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ghoustlysoul · 2 years

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As The World Caves In | Part One

Summary: By the order of Prince Dain, Jude must seduce and sidetrack Cardan so he never becomes crowned King.

Warnings: pressured into a situation, remarks of pregnancy, poisoning

Rating: Mature

This takes place as an AU of TCP.

— — — —

Faerie

The Palace of Elfhame

— — — —

Trying best as he may, the youngest heir to the throne of Elfhame’s tail swished to and fro as the single sign he bothered listening to the King’s drowsing words. His midnight eyes, speckled with the evening’s first starlight, glimmered as he swirled the clear wine around in one of seven golden goblets all held by his very kin sitting to the left, right, and in front of him. He brought the sparkling liquid to his flattened, unaroused lips as if he were sipping down the contents, but he inhaled the lingering scents of crushed carnivorous berries, juicy honey suckles, and almond bark…

Letting the liquid wettened his full lips, he placed the goblet onto the table next to his matching golden plate piled high with forgotten, delectable food. He brought his hand across his lips and glanced up at the male who sired him. A rumbling, aging male. Or so, his youngest child figured on account of his brother’s debriefing him every so little on their father’s dissipating health after meeting with him.

Perhaps, if his father had been half the male he should have been, then he might be half bothered with the increasing wariness in his siblings, the way they all set on edge, and the odd scent of almond bark diluting the white wine’s usual sweetness, or at least, his glass.

The aging man, his creped face rolled with wrinkles beyond the number of years he existed, spoke in a voice old as time itself. “I have summoned all the heirs in my withering lineage in hopes of a proposition,” he declared. Those bronze eyes, usually so precise and watching, loured in golden clouds. He recited his words, his declaration as if the gods spoke through as a vessel. “The gods blessed my withering lineage with multiple heirs. The blessing in my blood has not been fortunate enough in spreading through the court over the past centuries, and possibly, my children. The numbers of our court dwindle. So, I foresee the ruler befitting of the blood crown must first produce their heir to ensure our ruling, our lineage, shall not be disrupted.”

Coughing lowly, Cardan sputtered on the nothingness catching his dry throat. “Father, I beg your pardon?”

King Eldred’s bronze eyes cleared, sharpening as fierce as poison-tipped daggers. “You beg nothing of me, Cardan. Should I already have your coronation prepped with the sibling of your choice prepared to lay my crown atop your head, or after all the lovers you have taken, have you failed in bearing an heir?”

Flattening his parted lips, Cardan’s swishing tail froze. The tufted tip straightened as if a dagger hardened and cold as ice ghosted over his nerves. “Father—”

“Cardan, as we all do I think, that your decision comes as a shock, Father, yet your words are final without any disagreement from any of us,” Balekin said assuring, sipping carelessly on his wine. He either had not scented the odd scent of almond bark or chose to ignore the added flavoring.

Bringing his golden goblet up, Cardan sniffed the odd-smelling wine he swallowed multiple times before. Directing the conversation elsewhere, Cardan inquired lowly, “the wine, have you chosen something new father?”

King Eldred lowered his menacing gaze on his youngest, undesired child. His last child a mistake ruining the bloodline connecting the essence of them all. His mother’s line, every faerie whispered, poisoned when jumbled with the High King. A lover, not a consort, yet as a lady of the court, Cardan’s father was forced to recognize his last child as an heir as much as Cardan recognized him as his sire.

Scooping up the goblet, the smooth wine sloshed over the sides onto Eldred’s weathered skin. He sipped back the wine slowly, smacking his lips together as savoring the taste. His face softened, “I believe so.”

Peering at his drink, Cardan became certain of two things. He had been handed the wrong drink during dinner, and the wine his father sipped had been the same one he drank every night…his glass had not tampered with tonight. Flicking his eyes around the table, Cardan nodded his head, “Delicious.”

Balekin met his brother’s darkened, midnight eyes. His silver leaded eyes reflected the glimmering stars in Cardan’s. The brothers had not shared a word as they joined their nearly silent siblings in digging into their dinner. Cardan poked and prodded through his food. He brought a fork full to his mouth very little. He spent the rest of his evening avoiding downing his drink though he brought it to his mouth several times, and he alternated the food he brought to his mouth.

As the evening drifted further into the dawn, Cardan found his mind a swirled mess. He struggled to dissect and pick the correct words while he conversed with his sisters. Both Balekin and Dain studied him the entire evening. The duo swapped uninspiring glances and whispers. Every so often Balekin face fell slack, letting whatever filtered through his mind be read outwardly, yet Cardan hardly kept his spinning mind focused on his two older brothers.

He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus. Sharp puffs of air flowed through his heavy lungs at each inhale. Heavy. His entire body was heavy beneath his mind. The swirling inside his mind let him sink further and further into his cushioned seat until he nearly thought the bottom fell out underneath his weight.

He giggled at his sister whispering words into his ear though they jumbled together. Cardan covered his hand over his mouth, eliciting his brothers’ gazes once more. “Don’t tell,” he slurred, “I am going, I am going to bed a female…”

“Cardan, that is no secret.” Rhyia laughed softly. “You have practically bedded the entire court of Elfhame besides your blood.”

Cardan shoved her gently. His tail curled around her arm, beckoning her closely. “Shh…no one, no one must know. I am going to bed a mortal.”

“How scandalous, brother,” Rhyia giggled.

Cardan joined into her fit of laughter, nearly dropping face first into his barely eaten food. He glanced at the food before him. The poisonous food. So, he suspected. However, he never concerned himself enough with family affairs to accuse or suspect any of his siblings. Hell, he saw Balekin whenever necessary though his brother burdened himself with caring for the youngest, and Rhyia seemingly was the only one to tolerate him when she had the occasional drink in her hand.

His family had not wanted him, nor had they needed him. His being recognized as a royal-born prince instead of a bastard was for two reasons none of which made his burden to his family any less. His mother was a lady of the court, and his father relished in his gift to impregnate nearly every female he slept with.

“All right, Father, I believe you need your rest, and Cardan, he has drunken himself into a foolish mess. I need to return him home. Goodnight, father. Siblings,” Balekin declared.

The entire royal family watched the oldest brother tugging the youngest out of his seat and guiding him to the door. Cardan stumbled around. Little groans escaped his throat. Balekin jerked him back and forth, guiding the way. To anyone else, the reason for the youngest being such a mess was his poisoned mind.

Cardan relished the spinning several times. He spun along as if he danced the night away. He watched the world swirl and spin until left became right and right became left. His grace had never faltered then, nor in the present moment as his brother acted as his guide, dragging him away from his father and siblings whom he hollered his goodbyes to.

Outside ragwort horses guided their carriage to the palace doors. Cardan grinned and leaned against his brother. “Always for the dramatic exit, Balekin.”

“Cardan, hush.” Balekin gritted the words out like he grounded out gravel from his teeth. His white, gleaming teeth. All bared at Cardan. Balekin’s four-pointed canine flashed as he muttered something at Cardan. “Luck is with you, brother. I should make you stumbled home in the daylight, but I shall not wait up into the late hours of the day.”

To deliver punishment.

Those were the words he omitted. Cardan glanced around the blurring scene. Knights forked every position possible. Waiting. Waiting to pass whispered words of guests leaving the palace or any intercept possible threats.

“Get inside, Cardan.” Balekin’s order was louder than the snapping of a whip and sharper than any blade.

Cardan gulped lowly. “Yes, brother,” was all he managed in his delirious state. His heavy limbs weighed him down, yet he fought the battle of his life as he slumped inside the carriage. The black speckles on his vision widened at each sharp or jagged movement. Soon, the young prince’s mind folded underneath the darkness as he collapsed into the spider silk seats.

Balekin had escorted his brother home and to his room. His sword in hand prepped and ready, yet Cardan’s state of intoxication was far beyond anything the oldest brother witnessed. Balekin placed his brother carelessly in the bed, listening to his mumbled words. Nothing of interest…

Shame. Something decent would have been nice to come out of tonight. Looking around the room, the oldest brother searched for anything of use, anything of interest. His eyes landed on his brother’s sword. Balekin picked up Cardan’s own sword from a pile of dirty laundry where he stashed the lethal weapon so carelessly. Placing the sword atop his brother’s desk, he eyed a worn book. The title smeared across the hardcover was barely legible, but he made out the wording—Alice in Wonderland.

How fitting, a mortal cast into a world she had not belonged. Balekin fantasized over the cunning Queen of Hearts. How she schemed cruelly to protect what was meant to be hers. Grabbing the book, he flipped to the marked page. A piece of parchment fell out, a single word scribbled across the entire page.

Jude.

Balekin stifled his rumble of shocked laughter. He locked it tight inside of his chest. Exiting the room, he possessed the piece of paper and his sword. Balekin made his way to his study inside Hallow Hall. He wrote a letter to Dain, dispatching the parchment within, and a plan devised to distract Cardan. How foolish his brother must be to be intoxicated by a mortal woman. No more than dirt and dust.

—

Jude hung desperately over her chamber pot, not caring about the waste inside, as sweat trickled down the sides of her heated skin. The stabbing pain inside her stomach consumed her. Too much, too much. She heaved quietly into the pot. Her knuckles tightened around the lid, keeping her upright, exhaustion running through her entire arms.

An alarming increase of pain seized her body. She spasmed over the toilet and fell back against the wall. The burn spreading across her eyes left her blinking rapidly. She blinked and blinked. The intensity inside her stomach, her eyes, and her breathing toppled her senses until everything around her blurred and blackened.

Stay upright. Stay put. She must not wake her family. No one could know.

“Too much, Jude?”

Piercing black eyes drew her in. Jude blinked rapidly, ridding her vision of the devil’s pure black eyes. The eyes remained, invading and unnerving. Fisting her eyes, Jude inhaled a sharp breath. She kept her eyes closed briefly.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“Oh, Jude, the sight of you… how frightening,” screeched an eerie voice.

Jude shot onto her feet. Her knees nearly buckled.

“Why, why are you here at this hour?” Jude managed through her ragged breaths. “Have I not completed the prince’s mission to his liking?”

Heat swarmed her body as her muscles turned on her. She was going to throw everything up inside her body. Not water. Not food. No, she had rid her body of all good supplements. Her intestines threatened to burst up her throat and splatter the floor.

Double over the chamber pot, she discarded all the bile left inside her. Her bones snapped and buckled. Her muscles dragged her to the ground once again. Laying against the cool ground, she pressed her forehead against the ground.

No one saw her this weak. No one else other than snapdragon. He only ever visited during the early hours of the morning, but he endured the latest hours of the afternoon today.

“I am here as Prince Dain has more information and a new mission. A long term. No one except Prince Balekin, Prince Dain, and you will know of. All information can be found inside the envelope on your desk regarding the mission,” the hob-face owl said. “Eldred has declared his successor will be whichever of his children bare a child first.”

“Okay,” Jude responded. Snapdragon flew off the faucet he perched on.

Jude pushed herself up onto her knees. The new information bombarded her mind. All other thoughts fleeted as she mauled over what her new mission might be, and how it was to tie into the King’s decision.

Leaning against the wall, Jude listened to the wings withdraw. Slowly, she clambered onto her feet. She found her way onto her bed and snatched up her letter. She ripped into it and devoured the information. Oh, how her guess regarding her new mission was extremely off as she memorized every stroke of Prince Dain’s movements that scrawled her instructions.

My dearest Jude,

I am pleased with your success.

Upon the new information given to you by word of mouth, Prince Balekin and I have come to terms with working together in ensuring my success to be crowned Blood King. To do so, you must seduce Prince Cardan and occupy his time. Remember preventatives are your dearest friends, but something tells me your womb is too ill to bare a child.

Your Prince,

Dain

Jude crept to her fireplace where the last embers fleeted in the chilling breeze creeping in. She tossed the letter inside. Through her blurred vision, she watched the flames waver fiercely as it at the paper to ashes. They were meant to be dying. It was funny how water disoriented so much. Inhaling a sharp breath, Jude crawled into bed. Sleep would invade the nightmare that was awaiting her.

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wanderingpages · 1 year

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High for this by The Weeknd but *jurdan*?

∞

Now Playing: High For This by The Weeknd

1:20 ───⊙─────── 4:15

Cardan’s lips taste sweet, like over ripe fruit; honeyed and heady, and Jude can’t help but want more of it, more of the feeling that slowly ebbs its way into her system. He holds her close, by the base of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her mounted on top of him while he nibbles small little red splotches down her neck. She’s breathing heavily, half dazed with the lack of oxygen getting to her head and something else that fogs and clouds the room. It’s so hot in here, she thinks, but she must have expressed this out loud, she realizes, when Cardan gives her an answering moan that vibrates against her skin.

“Ah,” she cries when his teeth nip at a spot just above her breast, leaving a sting he soothes with the pad of his tongue. Her knees on either side of him, tighten in response and he groans when the heat of her presses down against his groin. Her hands slide from the curve of his shoulders to the nape of his neck. One hand slides up, weaving through thick curls, gripping them tightly, pushing his face harder against her. She tilts her head, giving him space to move up, to that juncture between her neck and shoulder. It tickles her, but she likes the way she can feel it from the base of her spine all the way to the tips of fingers.

Jude would be lying if she said she hadn’t known what she was in for, why she heeded his words when Cardan told her “Come find me,” in the midst of the revel. It had been some time between him being the center of attention and being long forgotten in the haze of smoke and wine. With his finger tugging at a lock of her hair, letting the strands lace around his knuckles before slipping through, with his eyes so transfixed on the motion, Jude thought, he’s absolutely blissed out of his mind.

He left before she could offer him an answer and when she had finally given in just moments later, weaving through the crowd to the room where she knew he’d be. He had a faint smile across his lips, knowing that she’d come. Cardan offered Jude his hand, and she hesitated only for a moment before she let him pull her between his legs.

Her hands had found their way to his arms, her chest getting tight against her clothes as she suddenly struggled to breathe properly. He tucked a stray tress of hair behind her ears, letting his fingers linger. His eyes at half-mast, stared at her with something more than lust, maybe – she guesses it was concern, though his question didn’t really sound like a question. “You know what you’re here for?” Teasing, she thinks, because his hushed tenor when he pulls her closer, when their bodies flushed and her heart beat so hard against his own — and for a moment, it seemed like one rapid rhythm had mended between them; had tethered them to each other – his soft words had felt like the beginning of a fire. Heat and smoke.

Then his hands were guiding her, positioning her against him, roaming her body and letting her roam his, forehead against hers when she bent at the right angle, lost in her eyes while his lips barely skimmed hers. She kissed him first and when he parted his mouth, it was all the friction needed to ignite a spark. She bit down on his lips, tasting red as much as she felt it. He pulled back in a gasp, eyes blown out, but perhaps it had been like so from the start. Still, hers all but mirrored his. Cardan's fingers fumbled, then grasped at his own attire; buttons on his shirt, buttons on his pants. His top was off before Jude could catch up to him, her brain muddled for a little more than a moment. Then, Jude leaned in again and there was a flame.

“Take it off,” he tells her now, tugging at the laces on the back of her dress, loosening them with ease and expertise. He leans back on his elbows, watching her pull the dress up and then toss it somewhere on the floor beside them. In that time, it seems Cardan has absently found something amass the sheets and pillows. A golden fruit he had bitten into earlier that had coated his lips iridescent and his tongue in poison. There’s liquid gold between his lips after he's taken another bite, and Jude’s a little entranced, not realizing she’d folded her arms across her bare breasts.

Cardan reaches and gently pulls at her wrist. There’s no resistance as Jude’s hands are placed on his chest. She hovers hover him, stray pieces of hair, dismantled from pins and jewels, curtain the two of them. She’s nervous now, “Cardan,” her lips mouth over his, tasting that sweetness again. He squeezes the fruit, letting the liquid drip over his knuckles and land against his skin between them.

“I’m right here,” he tells her quietly, tossing the apple before letting his hand wander up her spine, the other sliding through her hair, letting glimmering traces of gold speckle over her body. “Don’t be scared,” he paints the places he likes the most about her... spine, neck, chest, breast, navel - up again to her cheeks, nose, earlobe, then down to her thigh and the curve of her ass.

“I’ve.. I’ve never…” she feels dizzy by proximity of him, by juices seeping into her pores. She's unable to finish her sentence, can’t really recall where she had been going, but she knows for certain that she wants to taste his lips again, wants to lick the elixir right off of him. But a small part of her wonders if that would be okay, if she could handle more than just the remnant of what he had taken hours prior.

“Do you trust me?” He’s genuine this time, reading her easily. Jude realizes, maybe outside of this moment, the answer would be different. She nods her head in response. He presses her closer, and uses the hand at her back to slowly guide her hips against his. “Then you can taste me,” he tells her. “I’ve got you,” Cardan promises.

Her tongue darts out, lapping at his bottom lip without thought, slowly pulling it into her mouth. Cardan's hips lift and begin to move in tandem with hers, hands at her hips, guiding her in wave-like motions, pressing their bodies harder against each other until she cries out against his lips. His eyes flutter shut and his fingers leave indents in her skin. The scant material of her underwear is dampening against his pants, and she’s kissing him sloppily as she rocks against his hardening cock.

His lips are swollen when he turns them over, has her on her back while he takes a nipple into his mouth. She sucks in a breath, exhales a whimper. “Ah – ah, ahh…” losing her words, unable to think straight. She’s trying so hard to muffle her moans, paranoid the remaining revel party would hear, let alone even care. She bites down hard on her lip, and Cardan thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His fingers squeeze at her other breast, twisting the pebbled nipple between his fingers, soothing the hurt with his thumb, then slowly traveling up her neck, over her chin and slips four fingers into her open mouth, helping her muffle herself, easing the hurt from her lips. She whines and spit dribbles down his ring adorned fingers. Her teeth bites down, but not harshly, and her tongue licks languidly at the sticky psychedelic.

Jude’s body thrashes in tight, mostly controlled movements, trying to cover more surface area, arching her back, buckling her legs over his waist, gripping his hair. Closer. He flicks his tongue and she sobs in rapture, silently begging him for more. His free hand holds her hip down, slides up and down her thigh until she releases him from her python grip, letting her legs fall against the mattress, spreading wide for his fingers to trace her nerves right to between her thighs. He licks off the remaining substance then his hand slips into her panties, two fingers slipping easily in her. She gurgles out Cardan’s name when his digits curl upwards and his palm presses down on her clit. Spit slides down the sides of her mouth, tears parallel from the corner of her eyes. She looks upward, finding swirls in the smoke, glitter in the air, stars in her eyes.

Her knees bend, soles of her feet pressing down firmly on the mattress, her hips lift in vain, breath coming concerningly fast. “It’s okay,” Cardan says now, “breathe,” he instructs her, “I know, Jude.” He takes her in, watching as her eyes gradually hone in on him, straining a pinkish color from the sting of whatever still permeates the air. They’re wet and wide and repeatedly losing focus as Cardan’s slowly thrusts his fingers in and out of her. “I know, Jude,” he whispers again, sweat beading along his skin, entranced with her every reaction. “I feel it too,” he promises.

“Cardan…” she manages, hands going to his wrist, holding on to it as he slides down her chin and collars her neck, all the while, she rocks against his other hand, finding a rhythm that makes her ache. Slowly, she hikes a leg up, fumbling to slip his pants down. His tail flicks against her skin, stopping her, holding her ankle tight and still. “Will it hurt?” she glances down, watching when Cardan takes pressure off of her pelvis and reaches to pull down his pants. His fingers glisten obscenely, coating the tip of his member as he strokes it slowly. He squeezes tightly, at the base, giving an already light headed Jude a visual comparison to go by. His hand slides up and down like a slow tease. Her hands begin to shake, “Cardan…?”

He strokes the tip between her folds and Jude’s stomach all but caves. Her body tenses, waiting for an intrusion that never really comes. Just a smooth teasing that has her twitching occasionally. “We’ll be good,” Cardan says in murmur of a slur, “So good,” he whispers, placating. His hand smooths down her pubic bone, thumb pressing at her clit.

“Ah –” Jude’s head lolls back, and she takes in a deep breath just as he enters, slowly, testing the waters at first before pressing all the way in. He’s slow at first, easing out of her tight grip whenever he pushes in. When she begins undulating her hips, he falls forward, encasing her with his body, beginning to move more nimbly. Her nails find his back, scraping skin between scars already healed over. He fucks her that much harder, forcing short little screams from her whenever he hits deep enough that her toes curl. She’s still fighting her vocality, still fixated on faeries in the halls, not aware that they won’t recall even seeing her slip past them the next day, won’t recall her entering the room Cardan had decided to occupy.

He grips at her hair, forcing her to look at him, driving into her harder. “Just me,” he manages, and whether she understands his proclamation, or she’s unable to hold back any longer, Cardan isn’t quite sure, but he’s so pleased when she screams out in bliss.

So fucking pleased, when she’s fighting her eyes to stay open, when she’s uttering a jumble of words next to his name, “Please, please, please…. more…Cardan …more…please…I – just…you…”

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neon-academia · 10 months

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bro i sketched a cute jurdan wallpaper for you bro 🛒

"𝐀 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐥𝐟𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲. 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥."

if you're lost dw, it's a scene from a fic i wrote :) i've had so many requests for art of this scene from ch.5 of snakes & lattes. clearly i had fun! it was a wonderful refresher sketch for working with this art style

links to the chapter and original post: post , ao3 , wp

#ill met by moonlight #a midsummer night's meme #snakes and lattes fic #tfota #the cruel prince #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jude x cardan #jurdan #tcp #tfota fanfic #tfota fanart #my art #my fic #broooo

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jurdanhell · 1 year

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Okay so basically, I was re reading the chapter where Cardan asks Jude “and is it out of your system?” And Jude’s like “oh yea yea totally” sis, we all know that’s LIES 😂. I was just trying to imagine an alternate scene thinking.. what if she says no? Idk about anyone else but I think it would lead to basically chapter 15 part 2 so I was wondering if you could write a filthy something something 😂🥴 (like I mentioned before, no pressure)

I Will Know Nothing (Until I Know You)

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 1,432

Rating: Mature

“And is it?" He asks. "Out of your system?”

I think of the blusher mushroom, the deathsweet, the wraithberry running through my veins with equal measure ferocity and instinct. We are alike in this way.

“No,” I say, because the indulgence of poison is one that I know greater than anything else.

I am unlearned at love and its making, but no matter how obvious that is to him, he does not let it show. Not when he guides my hands so carefully over him. Not when he redirects my nails to claw again at his back as he brings his mouth to the tender space just behind my ear. I suck my lip between the sharpest edges of my teeth, against the sound that rumbles in the back of my throat, because what this really is is a secret, and the more he knows is all the more he can use against me. I bite down on my lip hard enough to bleed.

The familiar sickness of poison roils through my gut, twinged with something else. A layer of sweat sheens over my skin and I am dizzy from the blood that rushes to my cheeks, my head, no doubt as diseased as what I’d ingested only earlier today. As infected as myself.

I tip my head back, again reminded of the things we’d done in that secret room behind the throne, and all the things we hadn’t. He brings his mouth to the hollow of my throat, pushing me back into the office in the Court of Shadows that I’ve taken as my own. He pauses only to push the door closed.

The dizzying absence from his hands on my skin leaves as quickly as it arrives, as though it was aware of how soon it would be replaced with another, equally intoxicating feeling.

Since my time in Faerie, I have grown very good at pretending. Pretending that my muscles do not sing from the acute pain from the swinging of my sword, pretending that it didn’t hurt every time I’d been made an example of being something lesser. Pretending that I do not feel as I do, hiding even from myself. I am not sure I keep the longing off my face, but with his hands drifting down the tie of my breeches, nose deep in the crook of my neck, I am not sure it matters.

Perhaps desire is like mithridatism, where I should be taking doses slowly, accumulating my body to the poison until it affects me no longer. Perhaps my overindulgence here will kill me as surely as any sharp blade.

It isn’t until he sinks down onto his knees, pushing the backs of my legs to the edge of the desk, mouth drifting across my navel that I decide that I do not care.

Religion in Faerie is scarcely discussed, brought up only with the slandering of poor fates and cursed as surely as any gambling man might blame the hand. There might have been gods, once, but anything infinite in an immortal mind is just as easily forgotten. But he slides my breeches down to my knees with such piety, pushing my legs apart with such reverence that I’m sure one of us has found it.

Something flutters in my chest as he brings his mouth to my center, looking up at me through his dark lashes. Not as though I ought to be the one praying, but as though this is the prayer. As though any noise I might make would make for choir, would carry the cadence of a hymn. He looks at me as though he means to memorize it, this moment. The shape of my very skin.

His hands move methodically against me, into me. There is strategy here yet, and I refuse to concede. I will not concede.

This time, I do not let my hands shake.

I bring one hand to his hair and knot my fingers so deeply I am not sure they will ever be free. I am not sure I want them to be. His tongue brushes flat against me, but it is the heat of his breath against my bare thigh that is my undoing. He moans my name against my skin, whispering dirty things I'm certain he would not say if his goal wasn't to make me give in. I will not give in.

I lean back against the desk, putting my weight on my elbow. I’m half-aware of something being knocked to the floor when he sinks lower to bring one of my legs over his shoulder.

There is an awful kind of pleasure in being granted what you’ve so desperately wanted, even if you’ve convinced yourself you didn’t. It seems we are both good at making terrible decisions.

This deep underground, it is too dark for plants to grow. There are no windows to allow moonlight to skim in, pooling like milk against the scarce furniture that was undoubtedly stolen for the home of thieves. That does not stop vines from snaking their way up the walls, cloying around any surface they can find purchase on. Surely, deep down in their making, they must know they were doomed to die the moment they sprouted. There is nothing for them here. No light, no water. No chance for survival.

That is what I tell myself as Cardan’s other hand slips beneath my shirt to palm at my breast. That is what I tell myself as I let him. There is no chance for survival. There is no way I would have survived this, anyway.

Maybe I can still take him down with me.

His finery is disarranged as I pull against his hair, beckoning him to his feet as I yank him roughly overtop of me, laying myself flat against the desk, my hair spilling over the edge. He looks dissatisfied, as though he were a cat whose cream I’d just stolen for no other reason than to be cruel.

I am, I know. But not for this.

His lips are swollen when I bring them roughly to my own, tasting myself from his mouth. It is a stupor that fills my lungs, my brain, working its way into my blood that controls me. My volition is not my own. I do not think it has been for a long while.

My hands go to his breeches, toying with the lace in the front, but not untying it. I do not know much, enough that he is aware of, but not so little that I am completely unknowledgeable. I refuse to think of the way he looked up to me, his mouth against the softest parts of my skin, drawing sensitive shapes with his teeth, his tongue.

A flower I do not recognize springs from the ivy that unfolds above us, a deep blue that might have been purple in the sun, trumpeting from its stem on the vine. Its yellow-white center does not shy away from the darkness of the room around us.

I move my hands to undo the buttons of his shirt with as much slowness as I can manage with his mouth working delicious cruelties over a soft spot on my neck.

The room is overcome with blooming buds in the darkness. One of my hands drifts over a knot of scars at his back, and I realize that it is not despite the darkness that they crest so fully, so openly, that it is in spite of it. That, maybe there is a kind of bravery in being so honest. In knowing the risks of a poison, and taking the plunge anyway.

He pushes himself against me in a way that is somehow more intimate than when we were both bare. It is not unlike when the clouds part from a silvered sky, letting the moonlight drink in the land, the faelights crashing up into the stars and melding into the air. Somehow, the unbrokenness of this moment is what is visceral, is so guarded by its profoundness that it will know nothing else. I am certain that when I open my eyes, I will see stars.

I am filled with a hatred so hot it warms me from the inside out, so bright that I might never truly be cold.

I hate that he is the one that makes me feel this way, and that the statement alone is as much honesty I can bare, even to myself. I am a coward.

My thoughts are splintering under the guiding action of his fingers, and I realize his clever poison is not simply along the sweat of his skin or tucked in between stolen kisses. It is in his words, his breath, and it is in me, too. And now, I am not sure I will ever be able to escape it.

Masterlist

i don't think i've ever written a first-person tfota fic. anyway i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. enjoy, sluts and whores <3

Tag List:

@cutekawaiihentaiboobies @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @whoviantalibah @snusbandxknifewife @goddess-of-writing @storiesandschemes @thesirenwashere @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @andromeddea @clockworkgraystairs @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @the-chick-of-the-air @dorkzrul @sassylunars @justabunchoffandoms @queenofgreenbriar @fandomfanatic987 @df3ndyr @brittneyal @woodsbeyond1 @clouds-and-peonies @mis-lil-red @firestarsandseneschals @b00kworm @bisexual-bibliophile @greenbumblebee @danaanruhn @acciomanorian @ireallyshouldsleeprn @vanessa172003 @janeslandrys @potterpasties @nahthanks @ahdiejajdjsiaksudjjssj @queen-of-demons-and-hell @thefolkofthefic @myunfortunatenightmare @reneereadsstuff @lordoftermites @figonas @aftg-tcp-soc4402 @dumble-daddy @greenbriarxrose @shadowhuntingdemigod @pollyaunt @kittkatandbooboo @savagelysarcasticsilence @romantic-loverr @teenyweenynightghost @bookcide

#i don’t know what to say for myself. so i simply won’t #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #jurdan #tfota #the wicked king #the folk of the air #the queen of nothing #tcp #cardan #tfota fic #jurdan fic #jurdan smut #jurdanhellwrites

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court-of-forever-undone · 2 months

Text

Something Precious | Jurdan Baby Fic

Chapter Two

Summary : After three years of exile, Cardan is determined to bring Jude back home with him. When he arrives, the last thing he expects to find is a dark-haired toddler looking up at him.

Tags: Jurdan baby, Jude’s exile, Dad!Cardan

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Cardan made good on his promise to assign more guards. They kept their distance, but Jude noted their presence. At first, it was bothersome, but with the reminder of how dangerous it could be for a king’s heir, it was nice to have additional eyes watching out for Everly. At least she no longer had to worry about hiding her from Cardan.

Jude had replayed the entire conversation over and over in her head, trying to find any hint of a trick. But Cardan’s words left very little room for interpretation. There was still the matter of ruling together and returning to Elfhame, something she would deal with later.

A week after Cardan’s unexpected visit, a number of packages with various faerie children’s toys, beautiful clothing, and food arrived on their front porch. Most of the presents were for Everly, but Jude found several boxes with her name on them too, including a new sword. The hilt was exquisitely decorated with tiny rubies, and the guard was made of golden twin snakes. After testing it out during one of Everly’s naps, Jude found the balance was equally extraordinary to the design. Beautiful gifts were not going to sway her decision to return, but she could appreciate them. At the very least, she could consider it child support and reparations for her loss of station after being exiled.

A third week passed before Cardan sent a letter requesting to visit again. Jude considered the request. If she refused, Cardan could always show up anyway. It would be easier just to say yes, and truthfully, the little enjoyment she had found in her mundane human experience had dimmed since being granted an opportunity to go home. Grief that had subsided after so long ago came back and pitted in Jude’s stomach. If it were only her, she would have returned back with Cardan the night he showed up. She would have faced whatever difficulties that came with returning as they arose.

Her sweet child changed everything, though. Jude had lived a childhood in Faerie, and it had been filled with too many close calls. Whether motivated by hatred, politics, or on a simple whim, the fae were ruthless. Vivi pointed out that Everly was half-faerie and, on top of that, would be a princess; she surely wouldn’t be as vulnerable as Taryn and Jude had been. Oak had nodded in agreement when she brought her dilemma to them. However, neither of them were present every time she had witnessed attempts on Cardan’s life in just a single year.

It was a battle between what she wanted and what she knew was best. A worrisome mother against the calculated crown’s strategist. Two roles that were entirely foreign to her just a few years prior, but both so ingrained in her personality now, that it was hard to separate the two. Jude didn’t want to make her final decision just yet. So, for now, she was content to let Cardan visit and see how their daughter would take to him a second time.

Three days after she sent the letter, Cardan arrived around dawn, impeccably dressed but not entirely inconspicuous in his royal tunic and pants. By all accounts, he should look exhausted, given that it was well past sleeping hours in Elfhame. Yet, he greeted Jude at the door with a soft smile and another armful of gifts.

“Err.. Good morning.”

The tension between them was palpable. Enemies. Schemers. Lovers. Husband and Wife. They had been all of those things. After years of silence, they were … co-parenting?

Jude set the boxes down and led Cardan down the hall to the nursery. As they entered the room, Everly, awake and wearing her purple and black striped onesie, beamed up at them. She reached over to the bars and hauled herself up into a standing position.

“Mumma!”

“Hello, little one,” Jude cooed. She scooped the squirming child from the crib and held her out to Cardan, without second-guessing herself. He fumbled for a second as if he had been expecting only to watch, but quickly regained his composure and held her securely.

“Hi! Hi!” The child chanted over and over, excited to see another face during the morning routine. Jude stood back and watched the look on his face, similar to the one when he first held her. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact emotion he was feeling, but he clearly wanted to be there. Cardan rocked her gently as she babbled some and then used her chubby little hand to pull on his curls again. The third yank was hard enough to jerk his head, but Cardan only laughed and twisted his hair out of her hand before opening his palm to reveal seeds in his hands.

“Would you like to see a trick?” He asked. Slowly, the seeds began to bloom into vibrant wildflowers with an unnaturally strong perfume. The child’s eyes opened wide with amazement; her full attention turned to the magic at Cardan’s fingertips. His focus, however, remained on the child, taking in every detail.

“Fwowers!” Everly said, reaching to touch them. Cardan repeated the trick once more before Jude gestured for Cardan to follow her into the kitchen. She grabbed ingredients from the fridge and cupboard and laid them all out on the counter. Cardan, with Everly still in his arms, took a seat on the barstool across from her. She began preparing breakfast, taking extra care to cut the fruit into bite-sized pieces. Cardan, who never cooked a meal in his life, nor likely ever would, watched intently and nodded every so often as if making mental notes.

“For breakfast, she likes to eat strawberries and yogurt. I also give her some eggs that I make for myself.”

“Is that what you are making now?” He asked as Jude moved back and forth from the oven to the plates.

She nodded. “Sometimes, I give her a half piece of toast if she’s hungry. It all depends.”

“Depends on what exactly?” Cardan asked, having switched his attention briefly back to Everly, who began blowing bubbles with her mouth.

She shrugged, “I don’t know. Every day is different, but you just learn to read what she wants.” Jude moved around the kitchen bar and slid her arm around Everly, moving her into the highchair and placing the breakfast plate down. “Plus, she is talking so much more now, so it is easy enough just to ask.”

On cue, Everly said, “Tank youuu,” before shoving a berry into her mouth.

Upon making her own plate, Jude sat down next to Cardan, offering the carton of strawberries to him. They all ate in silence for a few moments, before Cardan spoke again.

“I’d like…” he began, “...to learn to know what she needs… and wants.”

A twist of guilt formed in Jude’s stomach. Devastation was written in the hard lines of his face. It pained him to know he had a daughter, who he functionally knew nothing about. Jude let the silence grow for another minute before she began listing off things about their daughter; She was born on March 13th. Her favorite foods were grapes and cheese. She hated carrots and would throw them across the dining room if they were on her plate. Her favorite toys were blocks and a rainbow unicorn stuffed animal. She had a nap after lunch around 12:30, and dinner was at 5. She always fell asleep in the car after playing at the park and always played with other kids. Once she had started crawling, she discovered how to play hide-and-seek on her own, and frequently tried to scare Jude after finding it hilarious the first time Jude jumped in surprise. She had developed Cardan’s coy smirk, purely from genetics. Some “only magic could explain” events had happened in recent months, so it was very likely that she possessed her father’s fae gifts.

The corners of Cardan’s beautiful mouth turned up with each tidbit he learned and was practically beaming when Jude started to tell stories about what it was like during the teething stages, when she took her first steps, and other moments where she acted so much like both of them. Jude let herself take in the small enjoyment of being able to share so many of the moments that she had experienced with their daughter alone. While she had often shared these things with her sister and little brother, it felt different sharing it with Cardan. Jude never planned to share Everly with Cardan, but things had changed dramatically over the last few weeks. The fact remained that she was their daughter, and it was something that would bond them forever.

Before either of them realized it, it was almost dusk. Cardan had followed her around through a typical day at home routine with a trip to the park, a nap, and he even helped with potty training and preparing dinner. Cardan held her when she was fussy and didn’t mind the occasional smack to the face when she got too excited and threw her arms out.

She shouldn’t be impressed. These were things she did every day, alone. If Cardan wanted to know his daughter, then he should have to participate in everything that went into being a parent. But Cardan grew up in a palace. He had maids and cooks. He was king . Every need was taken care of at a single command. In the castle, Everly would likely have a maid tend to her. None of the skills she was teaching him really mattered, but he learned them anyway.

Unless he thought she would never allow Everly back to the castle, and this was the only way he would get to see her. The thought made her feel a flurry of emotions.

Everly was fighting sleep as she watched Cardan’s magic light up and dissipate from his palm. As much as she was in awe of the colorful lights he created, her eyelids dropped lower and lower until she fell asleep in the crook of his arm.

“She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Cardan murmured finally, brushing her dark bangs out of her eyes.

Jude rolled her eyes and laughed, “Well, she is the spitting image of you, so of course you’d think that.”

Cardan just shook his head, “I cannot deny we share the most obvious similarities, but when you look closely, she looks just like you.” He traced Everly’s tiny ear, much like he had with Jude’s that day lying in the grass. “She has your smile. Have you noticed?”

He looked back to Jude, who shook her head slowly. She had never noticed before. All she saw was Cardan in her beautiful features. Some days it had been a painful reminder of the past that she could never entirely escape. Their eyes met, and Jude noted the way Cardan’s eyes dropped to her lips before returning again. She mimicked the motion herself. His lips were as perfect as the rest of his features. Jude’s breath caught as she noticed Cardan had gone preternaturally still. Suddenly, the oxygen in the room had run out.

Meeting Everly had stolen the focus of their reunion. Without a moment by themselves, the true reunion between the former lovers ( and enemies ) had not yet happened. They needed to talk. They needed to be at each other’s throats; in violence or want, Jude wasn’t sure. It was standing at a precipice, balancing before that falling sensation that would be the future neither of them knew the outcome of yet. A future as united rulers, raising Everly in a loving environment was still a fever dream Jude wouldn’t let herself believe in.

Jude broke her eyes away first, jumping to her feet and walking over to the dresser to get her can of soda. The action gave her a moment to resume a normal breathing pattern again. When she returned, she reached for the baby, but Cardan pulled back ever so slightly.

“Would it be alright to hold her a few minutes longer? I haven’t got much time before I must go.”

Jude hesitated, shoving down the rage that boiled when he had moved away. She searched his face and found no malice in it, just a bit of exhaustion peeking up. A calming breath had her thinking rationally again. Nodding, Jude moved back to her original spot.

The king and queen sat quietly, watching the sleeping child, all the while ignoring the almost moment they had. After a few minutes, Cardan rose gently from the couch and carried the child to the nursery. He returned to the living room a moment later. “May I return next week?” Cardan asked.

“Next weekend is Halloween. We are going to be out for most of the day Sunday.”

Cardan looked puzzled for a moment before recognition hit. “The mortal holiday of candy and tricks? Such a day does not seem suitable for a babe.”

Jude laughed. Leave it to Cardan, who grew up in Faerie of all places, to think Halloween was dangerous. “It is hardly as dangerous as it sounds. It is mostly families who dress up in silly costumes and walk around the neighborhood getting candy.”

A spark lit in Cardan’s gaze. “Families?” he asked softly, “So… you intend to wear a costume along with Everly?”

Realization dawned on Jude, causing her to fidget. They still had not really established what type of dynamic they would have raising Everly. Being a “family” seemed too personal of a term, although they were bound together in more ways than one.

“Everly is going as a pumpkin. Vivi bought her the costume last week. I can show it to you if you’d like.” Cardan nodded, and Jude retrieved the costume from the closet. She handed it to Cardan, who held it gingerly. It was utterly adorable with its puffy bottom and matching hat. “Oak insisted that I dress up too, but I will probably just put on a witch hat.”

“Are you going with them?” Cardan set down the costume and walked to the door. He recognized her diversion for what it was.

“Yeah. Neither Oak nor Vivi have to wear their glamour on Halloween. So Oak is going as a devil, Vivi as a cat, and I think Heather is going as a mad scientist.” She trailed off as guilt washed over her in waves. The entire conversation felt wrong, especially when she knew what Cardan wanted. A different Cardan would have made demands and threats, but the three years she had been gone had changed him. He was more patient, more willing to give her space. She was waiting for something… for the cruel young boy she had known to make an appearance, but he wasn’t there.

Cardan took one look back towards Everly’s nursery door, before turning the handle and stepping out into the night. Sadness not well hidden on his face. Jude mentally berated him. He shouldn’t forget to wear a mask among his enemies otherwise they would take advantage of him and the kingdom. But... perhaps he didn’t bother because they weren’t enemies anymore.

“I’ll send a letter next-”

“You should come,” she blurted out.

Cardan turned to face her, equally shocked at her words. “I-” He starts, but Jude interrupts again.

“We are leaving at 4. You can wear a costume or drop your glamour, whichever you prefer. But…” she swallowed. “It would be nice for you to be there. Everly would like it if you were there.”

Heat burned across her cheeks. It was a silly thing to be embarrassed about. Cardan was Everly’s father. Parents go with their kids on Halloween. But the redness was not only from her words. Cardan was staring at her with an unrecognizable emotion. She met his gaze, and the intensity behind his eyes felt too intimate like it had on the couch. It brought up too many feelings that Jude had not allowed herself to feel in years.

Her lips parted, attempting to fill the silence that had grown too long when Cardan bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her warm cheek before saying his goodbye and leaving.

The spot where his lips had met her cheek continued to warm as she returned to the living room and threw herself face down on the couch.

________________________

Jude walked through the door into Heather’s apartment and was overcome with a thick wall of fall scents. The entire apartment had been decorated with Halloween and fall decorations. It looked like Heather and Vivi had not decided on a cohesive theme, as each room appeared to be at war with each other. Dismembered bloody figures were wrapped in glitter pumpkin-themed garland. Skulls lined the shelves and were accompanied by “Friends Gather Here” signs. It was utterly horrifying and amusing at the same time.

Everly didn’t mind and squealed at the string of purple and orange lights that covered the ceiling. She walked into the middle of the room where the lights were lowest and reached up for the lights. The child’s face exploded with joy when her little body was lifted into the air, close enough to the lights she could grasp them in her hands. Cardan had swooped into the room, drawn by the sound of Everly’s laughter, and lifted her above his head before Jude had a chance to track the movement.

“Good afternoon, my loves,” Cardan said while bringing Everly back down into his arms.

She smiled up at him, “Daaa.” The word was still unfamiliar in her mouth. Cardan looked to Jude for help. Without meeting his eyes, Jude walked over to them and smiled encouragingly.

“That’s right! This is Daddy.”

Everly repeated the word over and over, still missing the second syllable, but Jude continued to praise her as she had over the last week teaching it. Finally, she glanced up to meet his eyes and felt butterflies in her own stomach. Cardan’s cheeks had reddened, and silver lined his eyes. He continued to bounce her lightly in his arms and nod encouragingly. Any words that he might have spoken were cut off by emotion.

“I wanted to surprise you.” She said as a way of explanation.

Cardan nodded again, eyes glistening. He leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Jude’s cheek, making it her turn to blush.

“Jude…” his voice came out hoarse. Before he could continue, the moment was interrupted by the rest of the house.

Oak ran over and hugged Jude, “Can we play together now?”

Jude looked to Cardan for the answer, and begrudgingly, he set her back on the ground. Taking her by the hand, Oak led Everly to his room, where the two often played together. Vivi had brought out two large steaming cups of cider and placed them in Jude and Cardan’s hands before Heather motioned for everyone to sit down in the living room. Heather took the beanbag chair and clasped her hands together.

“So, look at you too. Co-parenting like pros. I wish my parents did holidays together. Instead, I just had to celebrate every holiday twice, which I suppose wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

A blush spread furiously across Jude’s face, and she refused to look in Cardan’s direction, but judging from his sudden stiffness, he too, was trying to process the comment.

Co-parenting.

Two twenty-somethings. High King and Queen of Elfhame. Parents of a two-year-old. Their lives had never been simple, but their current circumstances were especially new territory. Halloween was not the time to talk, but Jude wondered how much longer she could find an excuse to delay a conversation.

A half-hour later, the six of them left the apartment in search of candy. Cardan had managed to find a pumpkin costume himself in the short period he knew of their plans, but when he realized how unflattering he looked in it, he opted for an even more obnoxious orange suit instead, while Jude decided to wear a black skeleton costume.

With the King of Elfhame walking around in the open, Jude made sure to keep an eye on each and every ghoul, zombie, and vampire that crossed their path. Liliver and the Court of Shadows lurked, undercover and from the unsuspecting places around them, but Jude still kept vigilant herself. It was a taste of what their future would look like. Even as queen, she would still look out for Cardan and now their child too.

Everly didn’t make it long into Trick or Treating. Oak tried to walk with her up to each house, but her little steps made the process slow, and Oak’s excitement had him basically dragging her along after the first street. Eventually, Cardan swooped in and carried Everly up to each house, until her eyes dropped and she completely fell asleep.

Oak’s energy, on the other hand, was limitless, and it wasn’t until his bag was so full he had to resort to dragging the bag that he agreed to go home. Once it was time, Heather, Vivi, and Oak said their goodbyes and headed toward their house.

Cardan and Jude walked down the dark street and up to Jude’s apartment, remarking on the events of the evening. Once inside, Cardan helped remove the costume and wiped off the orange spots on Everly’s cheeks before laying her down in bed. She stirred for a moment before sleep took over once again. The two walked back to the entryway before Cardan interrupted the silence that had loomed over them.

“Are you coming home?”

There was no anger or sadness in his words. Rather, a carefully delivered question, not revealing any of his thoughts.

She considered the question. Yes, she wanted to. No, it was dangerous. How long before Cardan’s patience wore thin? How long before the desperation to return home would overtake her? How long before some enemy court found them here anyway with limited protection?

“It can’t just be about what I want anymore.”

A non-answer, but Cardan did not back down this time. “What does the mortal world have that makes it a better place to raise her?”

Jude’s brow furrowed. “Less would-be assassins or kidnappers, happy to snatch a royal baby.”

“I would like to remind you, that I survived a childhood in Elfhame utterly neglected and without any protection.” Jude started to object, but Cardan continued, “And that would not be the case with her. She will have all the protection our kingdom can offer.”

Jude didn’t miss the emphasis he had placed on “our” kingdom.

“Surely, someone will notice the rotation of spies and guards that are sent here, and our enemies will wonder why. We are being careful, but it is foolish to think someone won’t pick up on it. Not to mention, the risk we take with my absences.”

“Then stop coming.” The venomous words slipped out of her before she could stop them. The anger rising in her was from the truth of his words She had been foolish to think there was a way to continue this inbetween situation. They would either have to disappear again and cut off the connection to Cardan and the court completely, or they would have to return.

“I-” she began, wanting to take the words back. Cardan kept his features blank. His words were more clipped than before, the only reaction he would show to her words.

“I said before I want to be in her life, and I mean it. I want to be in both your lives,” he stressed. “I will not miss this time with her. And if you continue to live in the mortal world, I will not miss the limited time we have together.”

Jude flinched so violently that it was like an invisible blow struck her. He was right, though; she would keep aging in the mortal world, and Everly would only be a faction of the way through her long life before Jude passed from old age. The thought had her shaking slightly.

Her head emptied as he stalked up to her. It had her automatically stepping backward, pinning her back against the wall. His intensity didn’t waiver, but as he noted her body language, he took a small step back.

His eyes searched hers, despair burning his features. “I will have you however you decide. Rule me again as you once did. Take a lover if you won’t have me. But know, I will bend to your will with or without a bargain. Name your price, and I will meet it; just don’t torture me with your absence or delay any longer.”

A sob built in her throat; her words came out with unexpected anguish, “Cardan, I don’t want a new lover. I don’t need another bargain.”

This time, when he advanced, he did so slowly, and Jude didn’t move away. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. It burned under his touch. Cardan gently tilted her head up until they were eye level, “Jude…” He closed his eyes in silent prayer before looking down at her again. Almost too quiet to hear, he whispered, “I just want you home.”

Her resolve had melted, and she didn’t have the strength to fight the truth anymore. She wanted to go home too, with Cardan, with Everly.

It was time to reclaim her throne and her life with the family she never could have imagined.

“Take me home.” The words were barely off her lips before Cardan’s mouth was crashing over hers. He wrapped his free arm around her as they continued the kiss, her hands gripping his tunic. Before long, their cheeks were damp with tears of joy and release from all the years of waiting.

"Take me home, Cardan," Jude murmured again, "Take us home."

Cardan only nodded before leaning in to kiss her again.

#jude x cardan #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the cruel prince #tfota #the folk of the air #tcp #the wicked king #queen of nothing #just jurdan things #jurdan baby #tofta fanfic #jurdan parents #jurdan fic

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viivdle · 5 months

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if i had my books in reach, i'd reread queen of nothing and deliver the best letters and fics there have ever been

#jurdan #jurdan fic #tcp #tfota #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

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crescentmel · 2 years

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I just finished all of The Cruel Prince series and I can say that I’m never trusting booktok girlies ever again bc I saw so many tiktoks where The Cruel Prince was in the category “what I thought would be 5 stars” (implied isn’t) and boy were they FUCKING WRONG????

I was so scared I wouldn’t enjoy the book but HELLO??? THE WHOLE SERIES IS SO FUCKING GOOD??? I literally read The Wicked King so fucking fast and I finished The Queen of Nothing in a day I’m so so so in love with this series and Jude and Cardan

Like I guess I can see a little where they’re coming from, TCP was a little slow for my liking but once part 2 in the book hit I was fucking hooked, TWK FUCKING BROKE MEEEEE AND TQON WAS EVERYTHING I WANTED

JUDE AND CARDAN ARE EVERYTHINGGGG

#I’m crying I love this series I was crying by the end of it #time to go read tons of post-twk angst fics bc I feel Ike crying again 🤪#I might post like a full random thoughts thing about the series #tcp #twk #tqon #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

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curiosity-killed · 9 months

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There is a house where no one goes.

[ALT ID: Two versions of the same illustration. The leftmost panel of the illustration shows a pavilion overlooking a lake dotted with red lotuses and a gold path winding past to a small house; small figures are silhouetted in both structures. The gold path curves through jagged mountains painted scarlet under a vivid red moon and past them to become the thread sewing shut the smiling lips of a person whose head is upside down and eyes obscured by a red ribbon, which curls up and past to circle the scarlet moon in the second panel. The first version of the illustration shows the title whipstitch in gold.]

#i have no idea what to tag this lmao #uhh #mdzs #wei wuxian #untamed fic #my art #also. my writing. but that's not how i use that tag soo #cover series continues #i once planned out specifically which stories i was going to do but now i can't remember what the other ones were #anyway i like this one and tcp's much better than upon this altar :')

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 2 years

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JHMYY Masterlist

Summary: Three years after the events of QON, something has gone terribly, horribly wrong. Despite careful preventative measures, Jude has somehow gotten herself knocked up. No matter that it was by her husband, Cardan, who loves and adores her. No matter that she loves and adores him in return. This is a disaster of immense proportions. There are heads to be had. A Jurdan Pregnancy Fic.

Fic Rating: Teen/Mature

CW: angst, nightmares, brief descriptions of murder/blood/vomit, eventual smut

Read on AO3 | More fics by me

↠ Chapter 1: Kiwi ↠ While visiting the mortal world, Jude thinks she’s coming down with a fever and loses a bet.

↠ Chapter 2: Baby Won’t You Please Come Home ↠ Jude returns to Elfhame, furious and terrified. As she works up the courage to tell Cardan, reveries and nightmares haunt her.

[more chapters under the cut]

↠ Chapter 3: Tell Me Baby [In Progress] ↠ Cardan tells Jude about how he found out she was pregnant. More pieces fall into place.

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murderofcrowsss · 2 years

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Forever Winter

part 3

a/n: last part for forever winter! i’ll start a romajuliette fic requested by @bookishivy after a few headcanons and shitposts <4 requested by the smexy @justdaphne

(tagging @luciena-of-elfhame )

....................

Jude gets sick while Cardan is out. She hasn't told him. Cardan is about to rage Hellfire.

....................

Jude opened her eyes. She was cold. Everything was white – pure white. She grabbed the itchy blanket that was kept next to her and tried to get up.

“Hello? Cardan? Is anyone here?” She tried, with no response.

Suddenly, she felt searing hot pain on her back. She turned around and she saw…Balekin? He was dressed in long, black robes which were torn from the ends. He had a knife. He was strangling someone.

Run. Commanded her inner voice. No. Who is it? Help them. You’re the queen. Or am I?

Jude saw a glimpse of the man Balekin was strangling. Cardan.

“Help! Please!” Cardan cried.

“I’m trying to!” Jude replied as she struggled to free Cardan from Balekin’s unforgiving arms.

She was still struggling – when she heard a sharp cry – the last cry – from Cardan. Jude witnessed the life slowly leaving his eyes, until it was just a blank stare. He was staring in her eyes. .................

“No! No! Please! Cardan!” Jude shouted as she jolt up from her bed.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Lilliver asked. She looked tired. As if she’d been here for hours – waiting for Jude to wake up.

Her eyes were still adjusting to the bright lights when she saw Cardan – still in his travel attire; his lingering gaze on her.

“Cardan! Oh for heaven’s sake, Lilliver. I told you not to tell him.”

“I didn’t! I swear I have no idea how he got to know”

“Let’s just say – I have my sources.” Cardan said with a smirk on his face. The smirk vanished soon after. “Jude. You know I would’ve stopped all my work to look after you. I wouldn’t have gone in the first place if I knew you were sick-“

“No.” Jude interrupted him. “That’s the issue. You shouldn’t stop your work to come after me. You’re the High King. Your position must come first.”

Cardan sighed. As if he’d been in this situation multiple times before.

“I will not argue with you on this. Next time you’re unwell, I will be the first one you tell. Understood?”

Jude was surprised. Cardan never tried to overpower what Jude said. Ever.

“Yes.” She replied.

His gaze still on her, he turned around and left the room.

Perhaps Jude should’ve been mad. Angry at how Cardan wouldn’t listen to her. But she wasn’t. She felt this wave of gratitude coming over her. The warmth of someone caring so much about her – something she had never experienced wholly before. Plus, how could one ever be mad at Cardan Greenbriar?

#jurdan #jude duarte #jurdan fic #jurdan angst #jude x cardan #the queen of nothing #forever winter #its my writing era bitches #tcp #tcp fic #the cruel prince #cardan greenbriar #what is it cardan #cardan my beloved

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maingh0st · 1 day

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it's a midweek surprise 🥳 echoes (of your name inside my mind) is an appendix to my name is whatever you decide, containing scenes that didn't make the final cut during revisions. some scenes just got fully scrapped, but I was still fond of certain others, and this seemed the best way to share them without overloading mniwyd itself. each chapter starts with a note about where it falls in the overall story; this first chapter falls immediately after chapter 12 (aka—before the next unreleased chapter!)

#yes this is the 'taryn gets drunk' chapter #i'm very fond of it - but it didn't make sense to include it in the final version of mniwyd #anyways go read it and then feel sad about taryn/locke with me #mniwyd #echoes #tfota #taryn duarte #the folk of the air #tcp #taryn x the ghost #tfota fic

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wanderingpages · 1 year

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Hey Peach, I’m going feral for this Jurdan idea and you’re the only TFOA blog I follow anymore. So, set when Jude is still high key just in it for the power and after they’ve started getting intimate. Jude kills her dad, or someone else does in front of her and she’s playing it off like this is a win bc he was trying to get the throne ergo against her. And she and Cardan walk back to his chambers and he’s trying to gauge how she’s doing bc she puts up a good front but that man raised her. She asks for sex (rough) and he goes along w it and they start making out and she just…. Slowly breaks down and starts sobbing and Cardan holds her and they just cuddle and she actually talks about her feelings and problems and then it’s sappy hurt comfort.

Thank you for your time, just had to get that out. Hope the kiddo is growing up nicely!

∞

A victory, Jude thinks to herself, though her hands shake and tremble when she slides the sword out of his chest. She feels dizzy, as every bone and organ scrape against the blade of Nightfell. She’s done it. He’d be proud of her, that she’s bested him. Of course he would – that is, after all, how he’s trained her.

Blood rushes in her ear and unable to help herself, her knees fall to the ground, beside him. She hesitates then closes Madoc’s eyes, seeing the stain of blood on her finger tips as she does so. She wonders, almost as if she’s not quite herself – as if she’s looking in on the scene from somewhere else – but she wonders if it would be fitting to dip his hood in the blood she’s spilled. There’s a thickness in her throat, Jude can’t quite swallow properly; it tightens and constricts at her rib. She wishes she was a little more human at the moment. Maybe then she’d know what prayer to say to send his soul off. I’m happy, she tells herself, forcing a smile. Safe.

But then, why do her tears feel heavy when they land on his chest?

She doesn’t really know how or when the calvary came, who had helped her up and declared her righteous in battle, who’d led her back to the palace and bathed her. Who’d scrubbed off the remainder of her father’s blood from her skin, and dressed her in finery. Doesn’t pay attention to the speech being made in her honor, doesn’t look to the remainder of her family, mourning his death. She nods and smile when she thinks it’s the right moment, raises her chalice and repeats whatever cheer has been said. She eats her food, but hardly tastes her meal.

When it’s over, Cardan is beside, her leading her to her room. She gives him a smile when he turns her to face him. The door is locked behind him and he tells her it’s only the two of them. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Jude responds, “I’m splendid,” She doesn’t think she’s ever used that word before, because it feels so foreign. She thinks, perhaps, she hadn’t fully returned to her body since watching her father fall. She places a hand to Cardan’s neck. His pulse beats just fine, “Just absolutely fine,” she reaches up and kisses him, tasting the salt of her own tears on his lips before she’s even aware they had fallen. He holds her steady, pulling away in concern.

“Jude…” he manages to thumb at the corner of an eye before she turns her face from him.

“It’s a victory,” she can’t help but repeat, what must seem like the umpteenth time. She starts at the bobbles in her hair, sitting in front of the mirror. Her vision seems blury and her fingers get caught in the jewels. She sniffs, annoyed, but gentle hands are easing her digits away, taking out the rest of the adorning gold and pearls and gems. “Thanks,” she murmurs, watching him through the mirror, more than herself. She knows, she’d be unpleased to see the reflection of her red tinted eyes and swollen face. She doesn’t remember crying profusely at all, but why are all the symptoms there? She tests a smile, and if it hurts, she thinks she’s masked it pretty well. “Aren’t you happy?”

Cardan goes to the buttons that line the back of her gown, nimble fingers undoing them with ease. “I am happy you’re alive,” he tells her.

Jude rises, turning to face him, he pushes the dress down her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. He runs his eyes over her and Jude frowns when she’s realizes it’s not because she’s something pleasing to look at, but because he’s searching her for bruises and scrapes.

She yanks him by his head, forcing their lips to touch. Cardan lets out a startled noise, but rests his hands against her ribs, holding her steady as he mends his lips with hers, submits to her will, despite the taste of blood from the wound she’d inherently inflicted.

She’s managed to get him in bed, managed to rid of any remaining clothes, managed to get him behind her and inside of her, no foreplay or teasing, just, “Please, I want you –” I need you, she thinks.

“Jude…” Cardan’s hand had skimmed her body down to her mound, playing with the sensitive skin between her legs and he’d been so beautiful when she’d look back at him, with her back pressed to his chest, and Jude thought she didn’t deserve his tender look at all.

“No,” she had murmured, tugging at his hand, forcing it over her chest instead “Cardan, please…” When he’d given in, sinking his teeth in the crook of her neck as he fitted inside of her, Jude still wasn’t quite pleased. “Harder,” she’d whispers, now, digging her nails sharply into his bicep, wishing, hoping, begging that his blood would replace phantom residual from Madoc. “More,” she mumbles even though her eyes begin to sting. Cardan fists her hair, leaning her head against his shoulder, sucking harder at the tender skin until it breaks between his teeth. The iron in her blood is dizzying but she’s begging him, begging him, begging him – “Don’t stop…” between whimpers and mewls.

Cardan grabs hold of her arms, bringing them to cross behind her back, the hold is firm but not unbreakable. She sobs when he slams into her this time, hitting her womb at an angle, bruising the muscles so deliciously. He guides her forward, bending her until her face is pressed to the sheets. Jude lets loose a soft cry, fisting her hands so tightly, nails pierce the skin of her palms. More blood, she deliberates, to coat the grime she still feels.

“Cardan…” She manages, sounding broken. Her toes curl and her stomach tenses. She bites down on the linen, as he slows down enough that inch by inch of him is embedded to not just her memories but her flesh too. He pulls all the way out, when the shudders in her body feels utterly unbearable. He turns her over, but she grabs on to him and pulls him close, burying her face into his neck, breathing the mess of his curls, all before he can look at her face and see the worst of her.

“Oh Jude,” he murmurs, “My favorite warrior,” he lets her know, blindly reaching between them to guide himself back inside of her, more tender now, but it aches all the same. She weeps, wrapping her legs around him, gasping in pleasure at every slow thrust.

“Don’t go,” she whispers to him. “Please, don’t leave me,” she begs. He kisses the shell of her ear in promise, holding her slick body against his as they both reach climax and then some.

He still inside of her when he braces his elbow on either side of her head and brushes her hair back. She still pulses, coming down but not fully there yet. Cardan wipes under her eyes, giving her a small reassuring smile, “Let me get you cleaned,” he murmurs, lifting off of her, but she grabs hold of his arm, stilling him.

“Just for a moment,” she tells him quietly, twisting so when he lays back down, they’re both on their sides, facing each other. He fixes them more comfortably, pulling the covers over them as if to keep her secrets safe. They don’t sleep for a long while, don’t move for much longer. Then she begins to speak and Cardan listens intently as Jude walks through her thoughts, her emotions, the schism between how she should feel and what she actually feels. “I don’t think I’m okay,” she finally whispers.

“I know, Jude.” He places a kiss to her cheek, “I know.”

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neon-academia · 1 year

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"𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞": 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬

a gift (made with lots of ❤️) for my readers who made it this far

wp | ao3 | masterpost

after the truly horrible night they both had, it couldn’t end any other way. i hope you enjoyed this episode of Jude *thunking* her head on Cardan’s shoulder and feeling like maybe everything will be okay...

read the full chapter Faith, Trust and Moth Dust: wp | ao3

#snakes and lattes fic #sending you guys this and also roses #jude x cardan #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #tcp #tfota fanfic #tfota fanart #the queen of air and darkness #the wicked king #my art #my fic

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jurdanhell · 1 year

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that one twitter au

Episode I | Episode II | Episode III | Episode IV | Episode V

Masterlist

literally no one asked for this but now you have it

Tag List:

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homemadefantasy · 1 year

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Taryn's Inquest - Cardan's POV

Summary: Taryn's inquest and the moments that follow - from Cardan's perspective.

Across the room, Jude appears, dressed as Taryn. She is in all of the Court’s finery, looking as much to me like her sister as she always has, which is to say she looks nothing like her sister. Sure, they may have the same physical appearance, but the difference in the manner in which they carry themselves is unmistakable. Where Taryn is demure and desperate to please, Jude is unapologetic and strong. I am amazed she is able to fool anyone with how straight she stands and how high she holds her head; Taryn would be sniveling with her shoulders slumped.

I am at a loss as to why she would return this way, play-acting a part that could not suit her less. Nevertheless, I must assume she has come to me in this way for a reason. If she wants to identify as her worthless twin, I shall let her.

Despite my role as king and the image I must maintain, despite my resolve to protect Taryn, despite everything, it takes all the self-discipline, a skill of whose existence until very recently I was unaware, I can muster to refrain from running across the room and taking her into my arms.

Soon, she is standing before me, deep within a curtsy that appears to cause her physical pain. It looks entirely unnatural for her to be bowing to me, to anyone, not even considering that she is the queen of the land. Oh, Jude. I just barely catch myself before saying the wrong name.

“Taryn?” She looks up at me with reluctance. Her pupils dilate and her eyes glitter with barely contained anger.

“Your majesty,” she says stiffly.

I suppose she expects me to play my part as well. I suppose I shall. I hesitate for a moment, imagining with no small amount of difficulty that the sister before is the pathetic, sniveling travesty of Jude.

“We recognize your grief. We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.”

Questions, I suppose, I now know the answer to, since she sent her sister in her stead. Although, many other questions take their place. My jumbled thoughts turn to my many unrequited letters, and I wonder at her return. She must never have planned to; I suppose Taryn’s impending execution alone lured her back. But, for the time being, I will exploit any opportunity to convince her to rule beside me. In Elfhame.

I am pulled back to the present as Nicasia, with no small amount of malice, accuses Jude of Locke’s demise. Unbeknownst to her, it seems, she is standing before us. Am I really the only one who can see that this is very much not Taryn? I realize, with a knot of shame, that I alone pay the exceptional amount of attention to her required to uncover her slight so quickly.

Her voice changes then, the silence of the room glinting off her voice as moonlight off the edge of a particularly sharp knife. “Jude is in exile.” Is she really? “And I’ve never hurt Locke.” If there were any doubt of her not being Taryn, it has just been expunged from my mind, as Taryn would never have shown such repulsion, however subtle, at the necessity of saying the name.

Nicasia is too wrapped up in her own grief over Locke to notice.

I am not so encumbered.

“No?”

“I lov… I loved him.” She says with no small amount of difficulty. I think back to Locke’s ridiculous party, of her obvious infatuation. Of the ridiculous and unexpected anger that seemed to overwhelm me at the sight of her in his arms. Of my own fury mirrored in her eyes when she glanced at me. Of the countless weeks that followed during which I tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to think or care about Locke’s toying with the Duarte sisters. Of Jude’s defiance at that critical moment when Locke believed he would have both sisters under his control. Of the chaos that directly followed.

“Sometimes I believed that you did, yes. But you could well be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” Or at least it would, had she not foolishly bargained with the most abominable of my siblings. However, despite the idiocy of the choice, I cannot deny that it has ended up being quite a valuable little talent.

“Now, tell me only the truth. What is your name?”

“Taryn Duarte.” Jude dips into an unnatural-looking, at least for her, curtsy. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.”

As if. There wasn’t a single word that just came out of her mouth that was not a lie. That’s my girl. The thought comes to me unbidden and with sharp barbs that pierce through my heart. Because she’s not. She’s not my girl, is she? Regardless of what I thought before her exile, she chose to stay. She chose to stay as far away as possible from me. Nerves suddenly overtake me as I begin to consider just why she is here in the first place.

“What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed,” she says pointedly.

“Did you murder Locke?” The room goes silent as it awaits her confession.

“No. Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.” I do not miss the implication, or the glance she shoots my former lover.

Neither does Nicasia. She turns to me, likely believing she is imparting great wisdom and knowledge upon me. Little does she know that I only require answers from one person right now. “We know that Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” How did she know about Valerian? Perhaps I ought to keep a better eye on Nicasia.

“If Taryn isn’t the culprit, then Jude must be.” Perhaps I will ask her myself. “Queen Orlagh, my mother, – ” Yes, I know who Queen Orlagh is, thank you – “swore a truce with you. What possible gain could she have from the murder of your Master of Revels? She knew he was your friend – and mine.”

Debatable. In front of me, Jude appears to be having some sort of episode. After a moment of consideration, I decide to humor Nicasia.

“Well, what do you think? Did your sister do it? And don’t tell me what I already know. Yes, I sent Jude into exile. That may or may not have deterred her.”

“She had no reason to hate Locke. I don’t think she wished him ill.” I could think of a few reasons. I hate Locke for what he did to Jude; I can hardly imagine what she feels for him.

“Is that so?”

Right then, my mother decides to be… helpful. “Perhaps it is only Court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister, and Locke. She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.”

Jude regards my mother with veiled surprise before she counters her with – “Jude never loved Locke. She loved someone else.” I am on the edge of my throne. “He’s the one she’d want dead.”

My brain locks up, unsure if it should key on her confession of love in front of the whole court or on her declaration that she desires my death. Either way, I know it is meant as a direct attack – both halves. She can lie, after all. Before she can rattle me further, I cut her off, needing the rest of the conversation to be private. “Enough. I have heard all I care to on this subject – ”

“No!” Upon registering whose voice interrupts my command, I nearly snap. A murmur ripples through the crowd at the sheer audacity required to interrupt the High King mid-decree. Nicasia shamelessly continues. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.”

She’s already resistant to glamour. I want to scream. But if Jude is going to torture me in front of the whole Court, why can’t I? “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

Her shoulders subtly shift back as she stands a little straighter, stiffer. Hiding terror that I can’t quite understand, she counters me. “My husband was murdered. And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him. I will not make a spectacle of myself for the Court’s amusement when his body is barely cold.”

Very well, then. What a perfect excuse to get the answers I require. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

***

She stands rather awkwardly across the table from me, her face fixed with an odd expression I can’t quite place.

She’s back. She’s home. She’s here. I can’t repress a grin. I gesture for her to join me on the couch. Start with the question that’s been eating away at me since I saw her walk in, the one which may seem the most trivial to anyone else, but is the most important to me. I attempt nonchalance as I say it.

“Well, didn’t you get my letters?”

Six unanswered letters. Six fragments of my heart that were never so much as acknowledged. Six attempts to understand what was going on in her head.

“What?” Bewilderment flashes through her clever eyes.

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.” She may well have. This may have been intended as a short visit. I will change that intention.

She appears to be genuinely confused. Is it possible she never received them? Does that explain her absence?

“Your Majesty,” she begins. Your Majesty? Does she really hate me so much as to resort to such formality? “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

Oh. We’re still playing that game, are we?

I give her a look. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.”

Something in her snaps. Her facade, I realize. “What are you doing? What are you playing at?”

Did she really think I didn’t recognize her? I think back to our interaction in the throne room. Had she thought me beguiled by a simple wardrobe change?

You mistook one for the other once before.

The memory hits me like a punch to the stomach. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the borough.”

For some inexplicable reason, this seems to unsettle her more. Was she here on some agenda besides her own? The Council’s warnings of her potential allegiance to Madoc suddenly flood my thoughts.

“That’s not possible.” She shakes her head; that same unplaceable expression returns. She seems to be trying very hard to figure something out. Her scheming face strikes me as bizarre. What is her angle?

All at once, I become singularly aware of every inch that separates us. It’s worse, somehow, than when we were an entire ocean’s breadth apart, to be so close yet not touching. She’s not close enough for me to see the green in her hazel eyes. She’s not close enough that I can feel her breath as further assurance that she is, in fact, here before me. She’s not close enough that I could reach out to hold her hand, should she want that. No question of whether I want that. I want that more than I need air to breathe, in this current moment. She’s not close enough. I hate it. I stand up, needing to have her in my arms. “Come closer.”

She backs away from me, an emotion I don’t want to recognize screaming from her eyes. The pain in my chest swells. I clench my fists to hide their shaking, but I need to confirm one thing.

“My councilors told me that you met with an ambassador from the Court of Teeth, that you must be working with Madoc now. I was unwilling to believe it, but seeing the way you look at me, perhaps I must. Tell me it’s not true.” What will I do if it is? I cannot arrest her. She is my Queen. Every advantage is hers: her authority over the kingdom, her authority over my will, her authority over my heart. Should she be in an alliance with her adoptive father, the kingdom, along with its pathetic king, would be ruined.

Initially, this accusation just seems to confuse her again. Then, she seems to understand, though she does not voice whatever realization she just had. “I’m not the betrayer here.”

Oh. I hadn’t anticipated that her continued absence would still concern my paltry attempt at humor. Alas, for this at least, I can make amends.

“Are you still angry about—” Suddenly, as I study her body language, I come to a realization of my own. Her entire body is taut and shaking, and she seems to be wearing her anger as armor. I recognize this tactic; I’ve used it myself countless times. The tactic of using anger to disguise one particularly uncomfortable emotion. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?”

She fears me. How could she possibly still think I harbor any desire to hurt her? Can she possibly still believe I hate her? I thought this lie had been dispelled long ago.

“I’m not,” the quaver in her voice and the shaking in her body give her away. “I hate you. You sent me into exile. Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.”

Every word she says is like a tiny sword aimed directly at my chest. Is it possible she never realized? I had thought I had made it quite clear how desperately I had awaited her return. “Of course it was a trick -” She clutches a knife to her. Madoc must have sent her to kill me. Her hatred is genuine, and my heart lies in shattered remains all over the floor.

Before I can so much as utter another word, the whole world shakes. Or is it just my world? No, Jude seems just as alarmed as I am. Ah, of course. She must have been meant to kill me, and the explosion meant to hide her escape. I am unable to do much else but stare at her, concealing my anguish as I always have: behind a glare.

Her ears prick up as something akin to sword fighting echoes down the hall. With a muttered “Stay here,” she darts out of the room before I can react.

No. Not again. Absolutely not. I am not losing her again. Even if her plan was to kill me, let it be so long as I never have to endure another second of her absence.

She is already gone. When I make it into the hall, I am just able to make out Madoc’s figure as he carries Jude off down another corridor. A battle rages around me, and though I know I should be concerned about how close they made it to my chambers, all I can see is Jude’s absence.

It seems that Jude was the prize. Although the contingent of soldiers that Madoc brought here far outnumbers my guards, they recede as soon as they see that she is secured. The renegades begin racing down and out of the hill. Well, all shall soon understand the price that is to be paid for such an act.

Thorns and briars, vines and branches, commissioned by myself and empowered by all the cruel magic of Faerie, wind their way through the many corridors of the Palace of Elfhame after Madoc’s men like vipers after a meal. I fall to my knees and my vision blurs, every ounce of strength and every drop of energy pouring into the attack.

The Bomb finds me some time later, slumped against the doorframe to my chambers and surrounded by blood.

“She’s gone, Your Majesty.”

The world goes black.

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