part 2
sorry for the humongously long delay 😭 i hope you’re all fine!
requested by the darling @justdaphne
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Jude gets sick while Cardan is out. She hasn't told him. Cardan is about to rage Hellfire.
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Cardan’s POV
Something’s wrong with Jude.
Whenever Cardan goes out of Elfhame for missions, Jude always makes it a point to bombard him with letters. Every day. He loves it.
This time however, something was off. He’d just received one letter, from the Bomb - asking him to update about the mission. There wasn’t much to update on, nothing sketchy was going on here. Another one of their incorrect predictions. He was supposed to be back to Elfhame in another week.
Still, he couldn’t get his mind off of his ever-growing suspicion that something was gravely wrong back home.
He’d written to The Ghost a few days prior - to ask whether everything was fine back there. His first instinct was to write to Jude, but even if there was something wrong; she wouldn’t tell him to avoid him coming back to Elfhame in the middle of his mission. He also almost wrote to The Bomb but Jude most likely forbade her from telling him either. His only chance was The Ghost.
He’d gotten back a reply this morning. One that he couldn’t open then and there because of another darned meeting he had to attend.
He sat down on his desk and opened the envelope.
To His Majesty,
Cardan. Jude is going to positively kill me if she knew I was writing this - but it’s for her own good. She has a burning fever. She won’t let anyone tell you because it will disrupt your mission but it’s clear how much she needs you.
She keeps having nightmares - nightmares she won’t tell me about. But I overheard her telling Liliver that they were about you and her not being able to fulfil herself as the High Queen and your wife.
I won’t tell you to come back.
The Ghost.
Oh, absolutely not. Cardan packed up his stuff - rage burning in him; along with worry. I need to get to my wife.
🧭 how do you feel about writing an angst Jurdan fanfic where Post TWK Jude has gotten over her exile and is happily married with a child and husband and Cardan refuses to accept this. Like Madoc refused to accept it? You can have any ending you want…
it's more of a drabble/blurb, but here's what I pictured:
tw: angst, spoilers, a bit of a mad Cardan at the end (sort of)
a/n: in between bold quotations marks (") are the canon letters Holly Black wrote.
How the cruel prince and the wicked king had to let go of the queen of nothing
"Jude,
You are perhaps only being overly cautious, but I am writing to inform you that all is settled between the Undersea and Elfhame. The treaties are signed in sea foam and blood.
Expectantly, Cardan"
He has wrote the words with hope in his heart. A weak, fragile feeling that woke exaltation he never dared to allow inside his body so far.
They would be ripped and never sent.
Meanwhile, his spies would speak of Jude walking alone at night. And he would feel the pang of guilt biting at his brain.
"Jude,
Since I cannot imagine there is much in the human lands to interest you, I can only suppose your continued absence in Elfhame is due to me.
I wage you: come be angry at a nearer distance.
Cardan"
He bit his knuckles over the pen before signing it, tail slashing the air nervously. He thought his queen understood him and would come back at once. But perhaps he had been too vile again.
The letter was shredded and lost to the wind.
The spy reported Jude acquired a squeaky bicycle, beating the road all day long.
"Jude,
You are in no mood for them. Very well.
I am in no mood for them, either.
Let me write it outright: You are pardoned.
I revoke your banishment. I rescind my words.
Come home.
Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart if you must.
Just come home.
Cardan"
The king smiled as his fingers drummed against the table, already waiting for news even though the messenger has just left the room. Little did he know the letter arrived in someone else's hands. Burned to never see the human lands.
And Cardan's heart did shutter. Broken under the spy's words. Jude has been seen walking with a mortal boy, hand in hand, fingers entwined. She had smiled at him, laughed with him, hugged him, kissed him.
"Jude,
Not even responding to my missives is ridiculous and beneath you and I hate it.
Cardan"
What he really hated was the boy taking Jude from him. The mortal who thought himself better than the High King of Fae Folk himself. He clenched his jaws and gritted his teeth. For the first time in his entire life, he wished for a fight. Violence that ends with bloodshed. A duel to last until death takes out the loser.
This note too didn't make it to Jude. Who was happily saying "yes" to a marriage proposal.
" To the High Queen of Elfhame,
Above me is the same silvery moon that shines down on you. Looking at it makes me recall the glint of your blade pressed against my throat and other romantic moments.
I do not know what keeps you from returning to the High Court – whether it is vexation with me, or whether, having spent time in the mortal world you came to believe that a life free of the Folk is better than a life ruling over them.
In my most wretched hours I believe you will never come back. Why would you, save for your ambitions? You have always known exactly what I am and seen all my failings, all my weaknesses and scars. I flattered myself that at moments, you had feelings for me other than contempt, but even were that true, they would make but a thin gruel beside the feast of your other, greater desire.
And yet my heart is buried with you in the strange soil of the mortal world, as it was drowned with you in the cold waters of the Undersea.
It was yours before I could admit it, and yours it shall ever remain.
Cardan"
The High King toyed with the margins of the envelope before sliding the paper inside. He spilled the content of his heart out, forcing his tears back to not smudge the ink. Tears of lost hope, of heartache and hatred.
Oh, how he wished to kill the mortal who stole his wife! Cardan could feel the warmth of that boy's life leaking between his fingers. The pain Jude's fiance would feel at his hands. Would he scream for mercy? Would he yield? It would only prove him unworthy of Jude if something as peddling would be enough to scare him away. Would he fight for his queen, then? And would Jude support him or Cardan?
No matter. Because there would only be one alive at the end of the day. But the High King could only do as much as imagining. As much as it pained him, Cardan couldn't go reclaim Jude. He knew of her story, her mother's story and how she came into Madoc's care. And while a selfish part of him was thankful for it, the fae king understood that type of terror.
Being lied to by family, deceived by kin and before fully comprehending it, parents being taken away. Growing up in a lousy household, raised by the one(s) who did the most harm and no one being privy of it. Instead, the fae worship the ground they walk on. Having so many mixed feelings, impossible to untangle, too hard to understand. And not being able to tell which are just what people said to believe and which are true.
Cardan respected that. He wouldn't add to Jude's torment. But he couldn't give up either. She was engaged to that mortal, but she was married to him. A thread of hope still lingered in his heart strings.
The messenger delivered the letter. Not to Jude in the mortal land. But to the king's mother, in her own suit down the corridor. The fae woman rolled her eyes and scoffed at her son's antics before destroying yet another piece of paper of Cardan's happiness.
Jude danced around the apartment slowly, humming a lullaby to the baby in her arms. Hers and her husband's bundle of joy.
Cardan broke the nib of his pen, spilling ink all over the paper. He didn't care. He kept writing trebling, unfinished letters. "Please, please, please," he muttered with no sign of stopping soon. The pleas were directed to no one, asking for nothing. Not anymore. It simply became a habit, a response to the woe he felt, the only way to take out the sorrow.
Some days, the High King's mumbles became screams. Some days, he'd let the forbidden name slip. "Jude," a prayer, a wish, a verdict. He cannot – refuses to – let her go.
And all the while Cardan grieved the loss of his wife, Jude and her husband filled the fridge with picture of their child, blissfully unaware of yet another missing note from Elfhame.
All Human, Rockstar AU (Part 7). Cardan is in a band on the cusp of fame, and Jude has been there from the start. They fall fast and hard, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.
Trigger Warnings: Language, Sex, Drugs, Death (and the word ‘cunt’ sometimes I guess.)
Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 ∞ Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13
∞
Jude’s POV
Help I’m Alive - Metric
I’m zoned out through school. That article is stuck on my mind. Not the contents of it, necessarily, but the photo they used. It’s stupid because I know Cardan isn’t like that, but it’s something Caelia had told me when we went to see them, and later after hearing their song on the radio for the first time, when Heather said what she did… and his hands on her hips – maybe it means nothing, but to imagine it is one thing, to see it in a photo, on a night he’s celebrating something big without me, is a whole other ballgame. Do I even deserve to feel so hurt? That article just seems too soon, and my heart feels like it has been punt kicked. Repeatedly.
I promise myself I’d return his calls after class, but part of me wonders if he’d even answer. Maybe he’d given up on us already. Maybe this was a bad idea, trying to be together. But no – this is the same boy who’d spent months looking for me after an off-chance meeting at a lake house, a boy who manages to text or call me every single day without fail. So, he’s more of a rockstar than he was a week ago, I shouldn’t give up on him because of that, right? This is minuscule, in retrospect, to countless other things that could have been posted.
“Jude,” My sister says in astonishment as we exit the school building. Her voice is so awed that I have to glance at her, just in time to catch the widening of her eyes. I swing my head to Heather, on the other side of me, who’s looking in the same direction, mouth slack. Slowly, I check the person standing still next to her, then the other. The few people exiting the building with us have mostly stopped in their tracks, idling as a low murmur goes through them. My heart is absolutely in my throat when I brave it and follow their gaze.
“Oh my god,” I murmur. I clutch at my chest like it’ll stop the pounding from breaking through my skin. He’s leaned against the car just at the curbside. He’s got sunshades on but somehow, I can tell his eyes are on me.
“Jude,” Taryn nudges me forward. “Go,” she says frantically.
I feel the morbidly curious gazes watching me walk down the cleared path to him. Maybe he’s not as recognizable yet, but he’s stood there looking like he’s stepped out off pages of Blusher Magazine, leaned against a car only the drug dealers in this town can afford. My cheeks are flushed and I'm too mortified to be angry. My heart is pounding in my ears and though most every eye seems to be on us – or rather me walking towards him, I’ve got tunnel vision focused on Cardan Greenbriar. I stop in front of him and he pushes off the car, meeting me toe for toe. I look up at him, eyes blurring against my will.
“This is Caelia’s car,” I tell him, stunned at the wavering in my own voice.
His lips tilt down, “Jude,” he says, hands coming to my shoulders.
“Cardan,” I whisper as his hands glide up to my cheeks, spanning along to my neck.
“Jude,” he says again, this time pleading. I know what he wants but there’s something thick in my throat, stopping me from saying it. “Jude,” he says again. I reach up and take his glasses off, pushing them above his head. His eyes are rimmed red and sort of puffy. I wonder if he’s still hung over from yesterday’s big bash. “Say it,” he whispers, he begs, eyes searching mine.
“Rockstar,” I say thickly. He looks relieved, pulling me by my face to crash his lips into mine. My heart races, and it hurts to breathe too deeply. His hands tug me impossibly closer and I’m tasting salt on our lips. He pulls away, a peck to my top lip then to my bottom. His thumb swipes under my eyes, catching the tears as they fall.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers
“How are you here?” I pull back and wipe at my face with the back of my hand, mascara marking my skin. I’m embarrassed and confused and… fucking glad as hell that he’s here. I peek at our surroundings, all to aware that we’re a spectacle and I nervously twist at a ring on my finger. Cardan glances around now too, face grim as he takes in my peers.
“Come on,” he takes my bag from my shoulder and tosses it in the back seat before walking me to the passenger side, and holding the door open for me. He rummages around then hands me an unopened bottle of water when he’s back in the driver’s side and I take it gratefully suddenly hyperaware of how dry my throat is. “You have to know I wouldn’t do that, don’t you?” I could laugh at his lack of preamble.
“Hi Jude, I missed you too, thanks for not causing a bigger scene out there and kicking my balls in, that would fare bad for the inevitable babies I want to put in you.” I let out a huff, and he coughs to mask his sudden outburst of laughter. I want to laugh to but I settle for clearing my throat. “It just hurt. I needed time, I guess, to get out of my own head. You said…I thought…” I take another sip of water and tug the seat belt on. I’m paying way too close to the detail of the bottle in my hands. Since when was spring water not good enough – what the hell is this fancy mineral water from volcanoes and why does it taste like dirt? “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, peeling out of the spot. We take a few turns until we’re somewhere driving on clear roads. There’s a real quiet tapping I belatedly realize is the metal in his mouth hitting the enamel of his teeth. “I just wanted to be with you. I had to explain. Hell, Jude, I don’t even remember much of last night – and that’s probably not helping my case, but I swear I would never do what you’re thinking.” He glances at me every so often and I peel at the plastic wrap around the bottle before grumbling and tossing it on the floor.
It’s silent and I twist my fingers together playing with the set of thin rings I have on, trying to make sense of him being here, right next to me, trying to gather my thoughts. “You said, you didn’t want to share me with anybody,” I finally start off. “But I realized how unfair that is because,” I swallow, pressing a hand to my stomach as if the nerves would clear from that. “Cardan, I have to share you with the world.”
“No,”
“No?” My eyebrows raise to my hairline.
“Whatever is on stage or in the music, sure that’ll be for the fans – but me? I’m yours, Jude.” His words, stop my pulse all together. I hear them but, we’re only seventeen, what the hell do we know? Serpent Gold is on the cusp of fame. Maybe what we have isn’t enough.
“It’ll happen sooner or later,” I mumble, gazing past him and out his side’s window. He turns to me and I scowl at him, “Please, pay attention to the road, Cardan.”
He rolls his eyes but still turns to face forward. “Have you been talking to my sister?”
“Caelia? Yeah, I guess. She babysits Oak sometimes.” I shrug, wondering if I should let the change of subject slide or not. But it’s not a change of subject I realize, when he explains the gist of her sort of ultimatum with Larkin. I frown, “Cardan, I think anyone who dates a celebrity either at their peak or their up-in-comings would feel like this. I don’t agree with Caelia, there should be trust here – but I understand her.” I sigh. “Hell, it’s how I feel, but hearing it out loud like that makes me… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, and part of me knew that hadn’t happened like it seemed, but I was so ready to break my own heart. You’re too good to be true sometimes, you know? Part of me really thinks this won’t last and maybe I should run with it as far as I can, but part of me really wants this to last and I’ll be fucking devastated, Cardan, if you break my heart.”
He reaches over and grabs my hand. “I could say the same about you. I’m new to this, Jude. New to the fame, yes, but new to you, too. I’ll be more aware of myself,” he compromises, “in public situations and the likes. Will you trust me, next time? Will you hear me out? Call me anytime for anything. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a show or meeting or having lunch with Grandma Mab, I’ll answer you and we’ll sort whatever out. I’d drop everything if it made you happy, Jude.” he squeezes my fingers, his words so intense, I feel this severe ache in my soul. Does he know what he’s insinuating? Do I? “The thought of losing you did something really fucked up to me today. I’m not letting you go. Okay?”
I pull his hand to my lips and give him a kiss on his knuckles. “Okay.” It’s as resolved as we can get without me being possessive and him being jaded, but nonetheless, I feel less heavy.
“Good,” he sighs out, catching my eyes again. He takes in my apparel and a slow, shy, kind of grin forms. “I like your dress. I think I like those lacy things on your legs more.”
I blink down to my thighs, the hem of my dress meeting with the end of the lace on the thigh high stockings I wore today. I blush but roll my eyes, pulling my dress down modestly. He chuckles more relieved than at my antics, and I remind him to keep his eyes on the road; it’s near deserted but his gaze always flushes my skin. I’m scared of dying, sure, but I’m more scared of how vulnerable he makes me feel. “How’d you find me anyways?”
“Spoke to Val who gave me the address to Rhyia’s who all but throttled me. She gave me Vivienne’s workplace who then gave me two schools I could pick from. I tossed a coin and prayed it landed on the right one.”
I laugh and raise an eyebrow, “What if you chose the wrong school?”
“I’d find you eventually,” he shrugs. ‘I’d like to think that I’d always make my way back to you, somehow, whichever way you’d let me in.”
I rest a palm on my cheek while I squeeze his fingers with my other hand. “You’re something else,” I say quietly. “Where are we going anyway? Were we just going to drive around until I agreed to hear you out?”
He smiles all bashful and shrugs, “Maybe. At first, yeah, but now, we’re going here.” He juts his chin towards the sign at the main entrance to some sort of farm.
Confusion washes over me, “A pumpkin patch?” My eyes go wide and I clutch my hands – and the one of his that I’m still holding – to my chest. “A pumpkin patch!”
“October’s in a week,” he shrugs. “Let’s go find a pumpkin.”
He finds a parking spot and as soon as he’s settled, I take my seat belt off and clamber towards the back, one knee on the console, the other on the passenger seat. I bend over to reach my bag, rummaging through to find my camera. “Jesus,” Cardan curses.
“What,” I say startled.
“Just glad I have tinted windows,” he mumbles. I turn to face him, his eyes quickly moving from my ass to my face, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. I blush and tug my dress down further. He lets a slow smile grace his pretty face. “Come on,” He gets out first then tugs me out through the driver’s side. He places a kiss on the side of my head, looking as relieved as I feel. Part of me wonders though, if I’m holding him back – if he’d have to check himself at every event, making sure he’s not touching someone with a possibility of it looking wrong to me. He pulls me by my chin, and I find I have to stand on my tip toes and he still has to bend down and kiss me. Has he grown more since we last saw each other? “What’s wrong?” he asks, nose scrunching.
“You’re tall.” It sounds like I’m accusing him. He blinks, unable to hold back the snort.
His hand intertwines in mine as he buys the tickets. He keeps me in front of him and wraps his arms around my mid section, chin resting on my shoulder, nose caressing the fine hair on my neck. Maybe we’re naïve in this moment, but I settle deeper against him, letting myself be comforted by his presence. “Who was she, anyway? The lady you were talking with?”
“I…I have no clue. The whole night was just Randalin throwing people at us, trying to build a network. She could have been anyone, really. Or no one, I guess.” I nod, forcing myself to accept this. After getting our tickets, we’re handed a map that Cardan unfolds as I take in the scenery. My hand grips his tighter when I see the feeding pen and I drag him towards that, first.
“Okay, best apology ever,” I say in awe, holding my hand out for the farmer to drop pellets into. “Cardan,” I whisper, “It’s a baby goat.” He watches in amusement as I approach the pen and kneel down to feed him. “Cardan,” I cry out when the little guy licks at my fingers, poking his head through the fence. I rub behind his ears, “I’m sorry, I’m all out of food. But I love you so much, I promise I’ll return to feed you before we leave.” I reach out and peck his nose. He bleats in response. When I turn to Cardan, I see he’s got his phone pointed at me.
His brows furrow, “Baby, you’re crying again?” his voice is soft as he approaches me.
“I’m just so happy, Cardan. This morning was hell, and then you came and – baby goats!”
“I think they’re called kids,” he supplies, tugging me up and into his arms and give me a warm smile. I reach up and kiss him chastely, because I want to and I realize that I can. “There are children around,” he murmurs when he pulls away after my tongue has traced the seam of his lips. I grin and give him another quick peck.
The sun is setting by the time we’ve made it through every attraction, every display, every ride. We’ve gotten 3 medium sized pumpkins and a couple of baby ones for Oak. Cardan holds the bigger pumpkins and I tuck the two small ones in the corner of my arms. I buy us a cup of hot apple cider and a caramel apple I feed to him periodically. I try not to notice the way his tongue darts out to lick at the caramel by the corner of his lips, or the shiny metal barbell at the center of his tongue. I shiver, he notices. “Cold?”
I shake my head and blush, making my way back to the feeding pen. We finish off the apple and Cardan sets the pumpkins on the ground next to us before taking the cup from me as well as the small pumpkins. I hold out my hand for the food and the farmer smiles, remembering me from earlier. “You’re the one spoiling Beelzebub, huh?”
“Beelzebub?”
He grins, “I thought it was funny, seeing usually the goats are being sacrificed to him and all. My wife calls him Gunther.” He rolls his eyes and I let out a laugh I couldn’t help.
“No, I’m not spoiling this precious angel,” I lie with a bright smile and maybe he gives me a little extra food. I kneel down and Beelzebub/Gunther gallops towards me. I swear he’s smiling. “Hi baby!” I hold my hand out and laugh as he gobbles the pellets. “Told you I’d be back.” I lean close to give him another peck on his nose, but he licks my face instead. I laugh and rub under his neck. “We gotta go now, Gunther. I’m gonna miss you.” I wipe at my face as I get up. Cardan’s already beside me, offering the last of the apple cider.
“Just one more thing,” he promises, leading me to the car where we stash our pumpkins and my camera. He yanks out a jacket he had in the back, holding it out for me, and as I push my arms through, it’s clear how much it completely engulfs me, dropping just an inch past the dress I’m wearing.
“Where are we going now?” He leads me to the other side of the road, opposite of where all the main attractions had been. “Corn maze?”
He nods, “I always wanted to try it.” He shrugs, pulling the tip of the barbell between his teeth and I have to blink to focus on what he’s said. I realize he’s being shy and it’s the most endearing thing. It reminds me of that first night we met, him in the shadows, nervous before the performance.
I pull his hand, dragging him to the entrance. “You can’t scare me, though. You have to promise.”
“You’re no fun.”
I scoff at him, leading him down a trail, making quite a few wrong turns until I turn to him minutes later or maybe hours later and say, “I’m lost.”
There’s humor in his voice. “I figured when we walked past that scarecrow for the third time.”
I narrow my eyes at him, “You knew?”
“I thought you were doing it on purpose,” he lies. He glances up at the sun near setting, then lets out a sigh. He pulls out his phone and checks his GPS in satellite mode.
“That’s…really smart. But also cheating.” I peer over to see that we are literally at the far end of the maze, nowhere near the exit. He grins, bending down to kiss my forehead. I snuggle in closer to him, his hands wrapping around my shoulders. “You feel so warm,” I tell him. “Can we rest just a little? I feel like we’ve been walking for hours.”
“It’s only been thirty minutes.” He pulls off the jacket he’d given me and lays it on the ground. He takes a seat then guides me onto his lap. “How are you feeling?”
“Really happy, Rockstar. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe this is our first date.” I take his shades from his head and place them somewhere on the ground before I circle a lock of his hair between my fingers, “And I’m really sorry. About overreacting, I guess. I would have called you back, you know.”
His smile is somber, hands at the small of my back, and despite the chill in the air, I feel the heat of his palm through the material of my clothes. “If it were reversed, our roles, I’d have reacted mostly the same, I think. This morning…thinking about loosing you really ripped a hole in my heart. Then I thought, if I explained and you still didn’t want me, I’d let you go. Except I started thinking about you moving on and finding someone else,” he trails off, looking a cross between angry and embarrassed. “It gutted me, Jude. Felt like acid in my stomach.” His head turns, lips catching the inside of my wrist on the hand still twisting at his hair. I never realized how sensitive that area was until I felt the kiss flutter something hard in my chest.
Not knowing what to say, I crane my head to look up at the sky and I nervously muse, “So…Mercury is in retrograde.”
A smirk breaks out on his face. “Dork,” he says. “And it’s not our first date,” I look at him with brows raised and he looks genuinely confused as he thinks it over. “This is our… doesn’t the concert count?”
“You, taking me to your job, with your sister, is a date?” I wiggle my brows, “Then dry humping me and napping?”
His cheeks redden visibly even in the lack of daylight. I pull him in for a hug, squeezing him close to me, laughing. “Well shit, this is our first date,” he mutters.
“The best first date ever,” I press my lips to his neck and breathe him in. He pinches at my chin and guides me to his lips. Soft at first, and he tastes like apples and caramel, then my mouth parts for him and he slides his warm tongue against mine, the shock of the metal ball stroking down the middle emits a gasp from me. Hesitantly, I tease my tongue over it and he lets out a low moan that sends shivers raking down my body. One hand slides down to my hip, the other is rubbing over the lace of the stockings, slowly moving under my dress. I run my hands up his shoulders and into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Does it hurt?” I ask, voice rough as we pull apart. “Your piercing,” I clarify.
“No,” he says. “Not anymore.” His eyes are down cast. “Not at all. It’s all healed. Let me show you?”
I bite at my lip and nod. I let out a short squeal when he grabs my hips and lays me on the ground. My eyes widen, “Here?” I whisper, glancing around at the darkening area.
He nods, hiking the skirt of my dress up, parting my knees and slotting right between them. “Do you trust me?” I nod, not even giving myself a chance to think about it. He spreads my legs wider, one hand hooking under my thigh, the other, palming from my bellybutton down. I let out a breath, eyes focused on the night sky. The stars are extremely noticeable away from the city and it’s sort of unbelievably breath taking, realizing how small we are in the span of the entire universe. “What are you thinking,” he asks.
“You’re a supernova,” I say, almost drowsily. He kisses my pelvis and my stomach contracts at the touch.
“Are you space bound?”
I smile lazily, weaving my fingers through his wavy locks. He runs his thumb along my slit, over my panties. I shut my eyes, lolling my head back as I stifle a moan. My legs shake by the mere contact. “Yes,” I moan, quietly. His light stroke has me shifting my hips, begging him for more. “Are you sure,” I ask, one hand gripping his hair, the other kneading at my breasts through my suddenly uber-restrictive dress.
“Jude,” he murmurs, breath heating my pussy. I squirm some more and he holds me down. “I’ve wanted to eat you out for months now,” he says and my eyes fly open. When had I even closed them? “Wanted to taste this pretty pussy since our first kiss. Want to French it like I Frenched your mouth that first time.” I lick at my lips, inhaling deeply. My body arches, my center that much closer to his lips.
My grip in his hair grows tighter. “Oh,” I whisper, my face is heating at his words. “Oh!” I gasp when his hot tongue laves me through cotton. The pad of his tongue pressed against me and the ridge of his piercing perches right against my clit. “Holy…shit…” I tremble when his tongue starts a slow and hard lick, hitting nerve ends that have me seeing stars even when my eyes are shut. He pulls away and the cool air hits me like a shock. Cardan hooks his thumbs at the waistband of my panties and slowly drags them down, lifting my legs to take them off.
Cardan licks at his lips, sitting back to admire me, eyeing me as he tucks my underwear into the back pocket of his jeans. My chest is heaving and the blood rushing my ears is so loud, I almost don’t catch when he tells me, “I wanna see you touch yourself.”
“You do?”
He nods, “when I call you late at night, and you’re playing with yourself, I want you to show me what you do, Jude. I want to watch.” I blink rapidly, pulse beating like a hammer. God, I want him to watch, want him to see what he does to me, what he makes me do to myself. Taking a deep breath, I let my fingers spread my wet lips, and I stroke down to where my arousal pools and slowly drag my fingers up and down, feeling myself getting wetter and wetter. “If you’re a flame, I'm kerosene,” he whispers. Cardan’s eyes seem to darken further when I look at his face.
I let out a soft moan, pressing my finger down on that hardened nub, rubbing it tantalizingly slow. I spread my legs wider and lean back further, my back arching as I bite my lip in attempts to stop the noise I make when I slide a finger into myself. “Cardan,” I mewl. “Come on, Rockstar,” My voice is breathy and not my own in this moment. One finger turns to two and a low groan emits from the back of my throat as my strokes increase pace. “Touch me. Taste me.”
His hand is on mine now, halting my pleasure, dragging my wrist to his lips. I curse when he sucks my wet fingers into his mouth, the pulling sensation and his abrasive tongue making me restless, the barbell tracing a path to the tip of my finger when he pulls away with a pop. He guides that hand to his head and without much preface, buries his face between my thighs. I grab a fistful of his hair while my other hand digs into the dirt. His tongue laps up my center while his hands grab at my legs and adjusts them over his shoulders. “Cardan!”
My stomach tightens as he covers my clit with his lips, sucking as that metal ball in his tongue caressing me tortuously. “Oh,” I cry out, forgetting to breathe momentarily. “Oh, god, Cardan…” He slides a hand around a thigh and up to my navel, holding me still. I manage to uproot my fingers from the soil and frantically grab on to his hand, squeezing tightly. He adjusts our hold until we interlock fingers, letting me grip him harder the moment he sucks on me earnestly.
I let out a shriek, and I feel the vibrations as he chuckles against me. “Cardan,” I whimper, knees starting to shake, “I’m…I – oh god!”
His mouth sloppily kisses his way lower. He maneuvers his thumb to my clit, pressing down as his mouth works me. He sucks at my labia before sliding his tongue to my entrance. Thick and deep as he licks and suckles, the metal ball on either side of his tongue sliding against my walls. I’m barely even over that first orgasm and my body is almost unbearably sensitive to his touch. “Cardan, oh shit, oh fuck- oh my god, Cardan!” his tongue curves up and my hips buck. My thighs encase him, nails dig into his skin and hand on his head pushing him unabashedly further into me. He hums into my flesh, pulling away when I whimper. His lips glisten, as I struggle to raise my head to see him, the taste of me coating his mouth. He squeezes my hand and slowly inserts his long middle finger, calloused from his strings expertise and my eyes roll into my head, crossing when I fall back.
“You’re so tight and wet, Jude,” Cardan manages. “And you taste so fucking good.” He twists his wrists, his forefinger and middle finger periodically grazing and encasing my swollen clit. He’s lax with his movements, as if coaxing me down from my high. My body feels as if it’s spasming and my mind can’t comprehend wanting to lay out like a puddle and simultaneously wanting to tense against him. I tug him by his hair and he moves up my body, my legs falling to his hips, his finger still sliding in and out of me. I pull him down, his lips already parted so I lick into his mouth, tasting myself on him. Cardan pulls his hand from our interlocked hold, bringing it to the side of my face, holding my hair back. My hands find his sides and I clutch him tightly, nails digging in though the fabric of his shirt.
He pulls away and the look in his eyes – by God, I’m falling. “Are you okay?” he’s so breathy, sharp little exhales matching his fingering.
A slow, wry smile is all I can manage, “You made me come in a cornfield.” Cardan lets out a startled laugh, leaning down to kiss the pulse at my neck. He slides his finger out of me and tries to straighten out my dress.
“Do you think you can walk?”
“Can you?” I mumble back, gesturing to the bulge in his pants. He chuckles, slowly getting up and adjusting himself, then he’s holding his hands out for me. When he pulls me up, I’m only partially surprised at how unsteady my legs are. I hold on to Cardan’s elbow as I sway slightly. He laughs a little, a small satisfied smirk he tries to hide when he bends down for his dirty jacket. He shakes it out then ties the arms around my waist.
“May I get my panties back,” I ask quietly, as if we weren’t the only two people still in the corn maze. He smiles, but instead of even acknowledging my request, he takes my hand and guides me until I’m behind him.
“Grab my neck,” and I do as he says, his hands are free now, so they reach back and grasp my thighs from under his jacket. “Jump up.”
“Cardan!” I shift, not used to being without underwear, let alone humoring the idea of piggy backing on him all the while.
“Jude,” he says in mock impatience. He tugs me and lifts me on to his back. By pure instinct, my legs wrap around him and he adjusts me higher before reaching for his phone awkwardly. After a few seconds of fumbling, he hands it to me.
“Oh my god,” I coo, when I see his screen saver is of the baby goat licking my nose. He must have taken it earlier without me noticing. He must definitely feel the way my heart beats hard against his back, but I don’t care when I kiss the shell of his ear.
“Don’t get an ego over it,” he says dryly.
I laugh, “I think I need an ego, given that you’re all famous now.”
His grip on me tightens. He lets out a huff and mumbles something like, “I just play bass.”
I shake my head, “Cardan, the non-lead singers are the ones who get the most devoted fans – fans that assume you or other people think you need to be appreciated more. They go, ‘oh my god, Cardan needs more love, you guys’ or ‘ugh Larkin is hot and all but damn can Cardan play that bass – look at his fingers,’ and they hold up big posters that say something like ‘bassists do it deeper’ or something.”
“Right, and you know this, why?”
I roll my eyes, “Because I’m your biggest fan, you goof. Now unlock your phone so we can find a way out of here.”
Settled back in the car, I’m blissed out – sedated even. I ask where he’s learned his tricks and laugh when he admits to reading one or two or a few of Liliver’s raunchy novels. I lean against the window now, partially watching the footage I’ve gotten today and partially taking in Cardan as he drives.
He’s got a wrist casually resting on the steering wheel, the other hand reaching for mine. He gives me a small smile, like he doesn’t really notice he’s doing it and it makes my cheeks run hot. “What?” I ask, after he’s peeled his gaze from the road three times in the matter of a minute to look at me.
He brings our locked fingers to his lips and kisses my fingertips. “You’ve got the prettiest smile,” he tells me. I roll my eyes, but I want to kiss him silly. Quieter, in which I don’t think he intends for me to hear, he declares, “I get it.”
“Get what?” I ask.
I watch his tongue dart out to lick at his lips. He taps his piercing against the enamel of his teeth, seeming to think over his words. “Every song on our album,” he starts, suddenly coy. “I get it – I get why Larkin wrote it all for my sister.”
My lashes lower, and I focus on the hand I’m holding, on the crescent shaped scars I left on him. My thumb slides down to trace the dark ink on his skin, trying not to read too much into his words. Still, I can’t help but ask, “You do?”
He locks eyes with me. Calm, serious, intense. “Yeah,” it’s almost hoarse but still so steady. “I do.”
A/N: You asked for part two, and you shall receive. If you haven’t read part one, it’s linked above! This may or may not be more than two thousand words, but I couldn’t help myself. I really wanted to explore Jude and Cardan’s struggles and insecurities in their relationship post QON. Hope you guys like it :)))
Trigger Warnings: Mild Cursing (Let me know if there is anything I missed)
~~~
Jude wraps her hands around the warm tea Vivi made for her.
Vivi watches her expectantly. “So?”
Jude sighs. “Just… give me a second. I need to think.”
Vivi nods and moves to clear away the dishes drying next to the sink.
“Cardan and I got into a fight.”
Vivi snorts. “No shit.”
Jude massages her temples. “I know, but I think I really messed things up. God, I’m so stupid.”
Vivi doesn’t say anything, waiting Jude out.
“I- I just, I don’t know how to tell him things, things that are messing with my head, you know? And he could tell I was being distant, and I hurt him.” Jude squeezes her eyes shut.
“You aren’t the best at communication,” Vivi hedges. She looks up, eyes searching Jude’s face. “What couldn’t you tell him?” she says slowly.
Jude’s neck heats up, and she sips her tea to avoid the question.
But maybe if she can tell Vivi, it will be easier to tell Cardan. “The people, they’re talking about a-” Jude clears her throat. “An heir.”
Vivi’s face softens in understanding. “And what exactly about that is bothering you?”
Jude swallows. “I don’t even know if I want kids yet.” She pauses. “But if- if there were to be an heir, it would be half-mortal.”
Her skin feels tight, the fierce urge to flee and protect herself running through her at the confession. She forces herself to push through, staring intensely at her tea.
Her voice is rough. “It would destabilize the rule. You know how the fae are, they wouldn’t take the heir seriously with mortal blood running through his veins.”
Vivi finishes drying the dishes and pulls out the chair across from her. “Jude, you are their queen. If they have a problem with that, put them in their place.” She pushes a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “That’s not the issue though, is it? At least not why you can’t talk to him about it.”
Jude takes a sip from her tea, studiously avoiding a response.
“Jude, if you don’t talk to anyone about it, you won’t be able to move forward.”
Jude’s hands clench around her mug. “I know.” Her voice lowers, barely a whisper. “What if he doesn’t want a half-mortal child?”
Vivi’s voice hardens. “Then screw him. But Jude, if there’s anything I’ve learned from seeing the way he is with you, that won’t matter to him.”
“You don’t know how he was, before. He always brought up how mortal, how weak I was. I know he’s changed, I know that, but I still-” Her voice breaks.
Vivi sighs. “Jude, this is something you have to talk to him about it. You can’t just keep avoiding it like you always do. Trust me, I know. You’ll just hurt both of yourselves.”
“How?” Jude rasps. “How do I tell him that?”
“Just like you did. I know it’s hard, but it will be better after you do.”
“But he was so angry. He couldn’t even look at me. What if he’s still mad?”
“He was mad because you weren’t talking to him. I can see how much he loves you, and you probably hurt him. You have to at least talk to him. You owe him that.”
Jude nods, shutting her eyes and letting out a soft breath. “Okay.” She gets up, her motions jerky. “I need to- I need to go. I need to tell him.”
Vivi puts an hand on Jude’s shoulder. “You need some rest. I know you feel like you should go, but you should get some rest before you figure this out.” Vivi gently tugs Jude into the living room and onto the couch. Jude is too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to protest. Vivi pulls a blanket over Jude, her hand resting on her shoulder for a beat longer than normal.
Before she’s pulled into the welcoming tendrils of sleep, Jude reaches her hand out, fingers grasping Vivi’s arm. “Thank you. For helping me.” She falls asleep before she hears Vivi’s response.
~~~
When Jude returns to the palace, something immediately feels off. The flowers outside the palace are wilted, and prickly vines have encased the walls. The air is taut with tension, and Jude hugs her cloak around her.
Instinctively, she knows Cardan will be in the throne room. But instead, she makes her way in the opposite direction to their chambers to wait for him. It seems fitting, to work through this where it started. She gets ready for bed and slips into the blankets, picking up a book to distract her thoughts as she waits.
When Cardan returns to their rooms, it is late. The telling glaze of alcohol is absent from his eyes, yet Jude gets the sense that he had drunk after she left. He pulls off his intricate doublet, leaving only the undershirt beneath, exhaustion marring his actions.
She resists the urge to wrap her arms around him and rest her head in the junction between his neck and shoulder, to relieve some of the burden she had placed on him. He gages her wearily, opting to sit on the armchair next to the fire. He remains silent, and Jude realizes he is waiting for her to speak.
Jude moves to the chair across him. “Cardan, I’m sorry.”
He barks out a laugh, sudden against the steady crackle of the fireplace. “For what?”
“You were right. I was being distant. I wasn’t telling you things.”
His jaw ticks. “I know I was right.”
He has every right to be angry at her. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to-” Jude shrugs helplessly, “I want to try to be better. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I love you.”
Cardan swallows. His gaze is trained on the fire, shadows jumping across the smooth planes of his face. “You left.”
“I was scared.” She says, her voice small. “Sometimes it’s easier for me to go back to hiding.”
Cardan finally turns to look at her. The vulnerability, the openness in his eyes, even after everything she said to hurt him, rocks her. Despite everything, he is still trying with her. And she… well, she had run away at the first sign of trouble.
Jude reaches out hesitantly for his hand, and Cardan doesn’t pull away. She wraps her fingers around his, and Jude’s words stumble out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I lied. The break was a lie.”
Cardan sighs, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I want this to work, Jude. But you have to talk to me.”
“I know,” she says, voice small.
“I know what I want. What is it that you want?” Jude opens her mouth to respond, but Cardan continues. “I cannot… I cannot keep playing these games with you. If you do not want this, then tell me and leave me in my misery. Do not give me hope.”
He rises from his chair and gets on his knees in front of her, clutching her hands between his, his palms warm against hers. His eyes are gazing into her with determination. “You must know I want this future with you Jude. I want everything with you, everything I never thought I could have. You must know...” His voice changes then, something a little like yearning slipping in. “You must know that I want to spend my whole life with you, even have a family with you, if you’d want that.”
Jude flinches slightly, and Cardan catches it.
His gaze roves over her, assessing. “You do not want children?” he says slowly.
“No, that’s not what I… I don’t know Cardan.”
His jaw clenches. “You do not want children with me.”
“Cardan, that’s not what this is about.”
His voice softens, a tinge desperation sifting through. “Then tell me, Jude. What is it? Let me in.” In this moment, he is not the High King of Elfhame. He is her husband.
Jude tightens her grip on his hands and averts her gaze, unable to look Cardan in the eye as she lays herself bare. “The people- they are talking about an heir.” She feels completely and utterly foolish, yet she continues, forcing the words out. “And if we were to have an heir… it would be half mortal. If you do not want that, I understand. It would be smarter for the kingdom, and the people…” Her voice trails off.
Cardan’s hand reaches up to gently cup her cheek. “Jude, look at me.”
She grudgingly lets her gaze return to his, something inside her feeling scraped raw.
“I do not care that our child would have mortal blood. Mortal blood does not make you weaker. You are the strongest person I have ever known, and you are a mortal.” He pauses, his next words tentative. “I know… I know I have said things in the past, but Jude, believe me.” He presses a kiss to her knuckles. “If you wanted a child, with me, I would be the happiest man alive.”
Jude feels as though the weight of mountains has been lifted off her shoulders. Some irrational part of her thought that he would prefer to have children with one of the fae, all her old insecurities still lingering inside her despite everything.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.”
Cardan‘s next words are hesitant. “So that is what this was about?”
She nods, a little ashamed. “What did you think?”
His jaw clenches, and his eyes focus on the wall behind her. He removes his hands from hers and gets up, turning his back to her as he fidgets with papers on the desk. She waits, letting him gather his thoughts. His next words are quick, as though he forced them out. “I assumed you didn’t want me anymore.”
She opens her mouth to protest and then shuts it. It’s his turn to speak. She knows that no matter how irrational his thoughts may seem to her, they are there and it isn’t her place to dismiss them.
His speaks in a rasp. “I think I’ve been waiting for you to leave, because that is how it has always been with me. Why would you want to stay, when you can do so much better?”
Jude’s thoughts start piecing together what he’s saying. His mom, his dad, even Nicasia. They all left him eventually or didn’t even want him in the first place. Something inside her breaks knowing that she had done what everyone else in his life had. Yesterday, he had told her to leave before she could leave him, protecting himself in a way. And she had listened, like an idiot.
The way he gotten on his knees in front of her, telling her how much he wanted her, suddenly made sense. He was genuinely scared she was going to leave.
Jude moves towards Cardan and slowly wraps her arms around him, leaning forward so her head rests against his chest. He shudders and sags against her, his breath warm against her hair. His arms grip her like she’ll disappear if he lets go. The fierce urge to ward him from any evil overtakes her, to keep him here in her arms forever.
“Cardan,” she whispers, pulling back and pressing her forehead against his. “I’m not going to leave. I’m staying right here with you. You are better than anything, anything I could have hoped for.”
His dark eyes bore into hers, searching for the lie. When he finds none, his palms reach out to cup her face, and then he kisses her softly, so softly. She sighs and tangles her hands in his curls, kissing him deeper.
The connection between them, the string that has always been pulling them towards each other, strengthens until it’s almost tangible, an ethereal soft glow. The prickly vines that had grown around the edges of the room begin to soften, jasmines blooming on the stems, their soft scent wafting around them.
And Jude knows, in that moment, that what they have is irreplaceable, the love between them is more valuable than anything in her life. She cannot let him think he is undeserving, that she does not want him.
“You deserve to be loved, Cardan. You do. More than anyone. And- and- falling in love with you is the best thing that could ever happen to me.”
He smiles softly against her lips. “Your love is the greatest treasure I possess,” he murmurs. He pulls back and gazes at her, as if to commit this moment to memory. Slowly, his grin turns playful as his hand reaches for hers and pulls her with him as he walks backwards to the bed. “You are my greatest treasure. And I would very much like to cuddle with my treasure.”
She giggles, stumbling into his warm chest. “Treasure? That’s new.” The seriousness of the moment fades into this, this wonderful thing between them as he pulls her onto bed and into his arms and peppers her face with kisses.
He pulls back teasingly. “Is it not to your liking? I have several others.”
“Hmmm, I guess I’ll have to hear them.”
Cardan presses his lips to her jaw, whispering against her skin. “My sweet villain.” His lips move to her nose. “My darling wife.” To her cheek. “My love.” And finally, finally, to her lips.
Thank you for reading!! If you have sent me a prompt, I have them written, I just have to edit! Thank you so much for your patience <3
Could you do a fic where Jude gets amnesia and Cardan has to take care of her? (In elfhame and none of the people known what sickness she has lol). Please make it angsty and fluffy at the same time sjsjjsjs. Thank you so much if you do this! 💗
Ofc, love! I wrote this like, five times and just before I reached the end, I'd delete it so I'm quite proud for finishing at all.
Full Masterlist
cry me a river . . .
I wake up in an unfamiliar room, far too extravagant for my taste.
I grunt, momentarily blinded by the light seeping inside the chamber from the window before someone pulls it closed. The tall, lean figure comes over to sit at my bedside, touching the back of his hand on my forehead as if he is checking for fever. His hand feels warm against my skin and I almost whine when his touch disappears. Black dots swim across my vision and I have to blink a few times before I recognise the person sitting beside me.
Cardan Greenbriar.
If he has ever looked worse before, I cannot remember it.
Tear streaks run down his painted cheeks, glitter smeared all over. His coal black eyes, swollen and red, are fixed on me. I have the strangest feeling that I have seen this sight before, even though I have no recollection of seeing him so vulnerable. It is not something so small that I'd forget.
Did he find out I killed Valerian? That would explain the tears.
Perhaps he wants to finish what his friend started. It seems unlikely that he'd know but I can't think of another reason Cardan would abduct me and risk Madoc's wrath. It has to be the reason—
"Jude? How do you feel?" he asks.
He looks at me like I'm the most precious thing in his world. It scares me more than his hatred ever could.
"Stop," I choke out, stomach sinking more in fear with each passing second. "Tell me what—how am I here? If Madoc finds out you've been hiding me here, the consequences won't be pretty." I don't have to worry about him lying, because no lie can escape his tongue. I know faeries don't need the ability of lying to deceive someone.
Cardan frowns at me. "Liliver found you wounded across the clearing. You went to run an errand, got hurt and collapsed near the palace." I know what the words mean individually, but put together in one sentence, they don't make sense to me, which puts me further out of ease.
"Liliver?" The name tugs at my memory but I can't remember it.
He looks wildly concerned now. "The Bomb, Jude. She found you," he tells me before someone knocks on the door.
The Bomb.
Liliver is probably her true name; or part of it, at least. I wonder how Cardan knows it. I remember her as a part of Dain's court of shadows. The tiny, delicate girl slips inside the room when neither of them answer. Liliver holds a steaming bowl of soup in her hand, which elicits a series of rumbles from my empty stomach. I try to remember when I last ate and the moments from the previous night come crashing down on me: the horrible coronation, Locke's behaviour, her dance with Cardan and their peculiar conversation, then finally the butchering of almost all of the Greenbriar family.
I remembered running away with Cardan, hiding him in the court of shadows and the kiss we'd shared, my blade pressed against his throat. The implication that he liked me and he hated it. Surely, my present condition couldn't have something to do with it?
No, it couldn't have.
"How are you out of the office?" I turn to Liliver, who raises an eyebrow at me. "Who let him out? He is my prisoner, and you shouldn't have decided when he leaves." They exchange confused glances with each other.
Cardan furrows his eyebrows. "Leave? Jude, love, is this some kind of test?"
Balekin and Madoc planned against Dain and he is dead and the protection he'd given me could be over now. Cardan could glamour me into believing anything he wanted to. For all I know, he already has. I shove the panic down, resolved to find out more. If he had glamoured me, I'd be doing whatever he asked with blind devotion.
I ask the first of my questions. "Does Madoc know that I'm here?"
Both of them exchange worried looks. Liliver places a hand on my shoulder and says softly, "Jude, Madoc is in exile in the mortal world. He knows you're in the palace, of course, and we informed Vivienne you hurt yourself on a mission—she's probably on her way—so he also knows you're hurt, I think." My head swims. I can't wrap my head around all the information.
I blurt out the thing that shocks me most. "Madoc was exiled?!" Maybe everyone found out about his plot against the crown—
The doors to the bedroom are thrown open and there's commotion outside. I hear a voice I recognise well and Vivienne enters the bedroom, fuming and covered in sweat. She is panting, out of breath as she comes over to my side, discreetly pushing Cardan back. I am grateful for the familiarity but I cannot help but wonder if this is some elaborate game Cardan is playing, if it's really my elder sister or a product of faerie magic.
Vivi sits by my side, looking offended. "Do you have to face up all the dangers in the world alone, Jude?" Liliver observes me with a curious look. However, it is not her gaze that unnerves me but his. It sends shivers down my spine and I pretend I do not notice it. Vivienne is still talking to me, "honestly, would it kill you to share some load with your husband, Jude?"
I blink. "My husband? What—"
"Jude," The Bomb interrupts, "what is the last thing you remember?"
I am confused and scared and unsure if I should tell her. But she is from the court of shadows and I trust Vivienne. Cardan's presence is unsettling but there is no hint of cruelty and neither of them seem disturbed by his presence. So I tell them. "It was the coronation, Balekin—he killed Eldred and Dain is dead and Cardan and I escaped together and I took him prisoner." A blush rises to my cheeks when I realise what happened next, despite all my hatred for the youngest faerie prince—no, not the youngest. I recall my conversation with Oriana, Taryn's betrayal, Locke's lies and Madoc's plan. "Oak is the next in line for the throne, he's—Dain's child." No one looks surprised at the news, not even Vivi.
Cardan says with deliberate slowness, "Jude, you mean you don't remember anything after the day? Do you remember the arrangement we made?"
"What arrangement?" I don't know what he's talking about. It puts me at a disadvantage against him.
Cardan brings his hand close to me, as if he expects me to shatter. I do not shatter but I do flinch away from his touch. He looks like he wishes I'd struck him instead, blinking rapidly. For a moment, I swear those are tears in his eyes before they disappear.
"Jude," Vivienne says, breaking the silence, "I think there's something you should know."
⊶ ⊷ ⊶ ⊷ ⊶ ⊷ ⊶ ⊷
I listen in horror and fascination and barely supressed surprise as Vivienne narrates the tale to me. Cardan sits beside her, pitching in with details she doesn't know whenever the situation demands it. I grow more and more certain that this is something strange I have dreamed up with every word my sister utters.
It makes the perfect sense—my plan against Balekin and Cardan's role in it.
I remember thinking along those lines when I went to sleep that night, the only question being how I could secure Oak's throne. To be his seneschal but have the High King of Elfhame under my command—the thought alone is enough to make me heady with power but it grows worse as Vivienne reaches the part where Cardan asks me to marry him. I can tell they both tiptoed around what happened in the Undersea, Vivienne because she does not know what happened in there but the uncertainty in Cardan's eyes leaves me with no doubt that he knows what happened there. Perhaps I told him.
It is surprising that I am able to read him so easily, and the ease with which he talks to me implies he is comfortable around me. I keep looking for some hint of cruelty and rage and anger but he is all love and adoration and concern.
Vivienne reaches the part where Cardan turns into a serpent and I'm convinced this is some prank of theirs. Even in faerie, that sounds ridiculous.
But they can't lie, so when my apparent husband says, "It was hell, Jude. I didn't talk about it but it haunted my dreams. You told me it haunted yours too."
"I did?" It doesn't sound like me. "What—how did you come back?"
He looks at me, and his eyes shine with love and sincerity. "You brought me back. Madoc offered you a golden bridle to control the serpent but you chose to end it's life, even though keeping it as your slave would have made you an unchallenged queen of faerie."
Why? The words don't leave my mouth but sensing the question, Liliver answers. "Because you loved him, Jude, you chose to free him. You chose his peace above power, not knowing if he'd come back—"
"—but then he did," I finish for her. "I slayed the serpent and he came back?"
They all nod. I am surprised to hear the details, that the Undersea came to our aid. But it was out of love for Cardan that Nicasia allied with us. They recollect the aftermath to me, Madoc's exile and some of the events after.
Vivienne leaves to fetch me some water and mortal soup for quick healing. Liliver excuses herself soon after. When I look at him, there are tears in Cardan's eyes again, flooding down his cheeks. He makes no effort to hide them now.
"Why are you crying?" I ask, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper.
He shakes his head at me. "You forgot all the good parts, Jude. Without the good parts, I'm just a monster who gave you every reason to hate me."
"I don't hate you." The truth behind those words surprises me.
Even after all I've been told, the fact that I fell in love with Cardan Greenbriar is the one that makes the most and the least sense both at once.
"I—I need to be alone." Cardan's face morphs into one of hurt, and I feel the need to soothe it: "It's just—I need time to wrap my head around this."
He nods, "Take all the time you need."
Then he lifts an unsure hand, reluctant, and wipes a tear away from my face. I hadn't realised I was crying until now. He turns to walk away, his tail curled around his calf.
I say, "I'm sorry I lost all our memories."
"It's okay. We'll make new ones," he promises in a firm tone. And for a brief moment, I see what he talked about.
I see myself in love with him, so in love that I was prepared to sacrifice ambition for a small chance to have him back. I see us living together, teasing and taunting and completely in love with each other, ruling Elfhame side by side. I feel his phantom touch on my body from the night I danced with him at the coronation ball, before everything started—before our story began.
And even when the moment passes, I realise I can love him still, all over again.
⊶ ⊷ ⊶ ⊷ ⊶ ⊷ ⊶ ⊷
I know I say it after every fic but this one was hard so even if it's bad, I'm proud of it. I tried writing from the first person pov, so what do you guys prefer? This or the usual third person limited?
Cardan knew something was amiss, the sickening feeling creeping chilling fingers of unease down his spine doing nothing to ease the coiled snake of anxiety constricting around his stomach so tight it was hard to even exhale out a breath. A certain quiet had descended over his mind, all other thoughts drowned out by one resounding worry.
Jude hadn't come to dinner.
She was the most punctual person he knew, in stark contrast with him who ambled into gatherings at any time he so desired. Except for their dinners together. Neither of them were ever late.
He kicked his chair back with a well placed heel against its wooden leg, abandoning the wide array of delicacies arranged about the oak table in favor of seeking out his wife. The door to their private dining room slammed open under his hand, the look of him intimidating enough to send servants and guards hastily scattering out of his way and clearing a wide open path.
"Guards, with me," he sharply ordered with a tense wave of his hand, two Fae men falling behind him almost immediately as he stormed down the corridor. With every purposeful stride the dread in his mouth only grew thicker, choking him in a startlingly tangible manner.
His steps grew quicker, close to an all out sprint by the time he reached their chamber door that was harrowingly ajar.
No.
He stepped inside.
No.
It felt as if the world had stopped breathing, pausing on an inhale as if in preparation for the High King's wrath and agony.
Jude lay sprawled on the floor, blood dribbling from her lips and her eyes glassy and empty.
Gone.
Dead.
An unintelligible sob tore from his throat in horrible, violent glee, his knees hitting the floorboards as gravity crumpled his form into an immediate broken mess. The tears were immediate, hot and unrelenting, his vision already swarming with black as his breath heaved in his lungs faster and faster and faster still, blood roaring in his ears and drowning out everything else.
Everything else except the image in front of him, the love of his immortal life cold and unmoving, her normally golden skin already faded to a sickly grey pallor.
It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be. No. No. No no no no no no no.
Horrible, gut wrenching screaming ensued, whether it came from him or another or both he couldn't discern. Uncontrollable tremors took over his body as he half crawled, half dragged himself over to her side, vision hazing even further.
"Jude, Jude please, I'm here, I'm here now, I promise I'm here just wake up," he sobbed, stroking slender fingers through her loose curls still pinned in one of her signature horned hairstyles.
Nothing.
With the care of handling a china doll, he pulled her into his embrace, fumbling for her cool hand and squeezing painfully hard, as if that could somehow restart her heart.
Nothing.
"Please, tell me this is a nightmare, open your eyes and call me an imbecile, anything, anything," he shuddered, shoulders hunching against the weight of this impossible burden.
Nothing.
The blood dripping from her mouth was still freshly wet on her soft, rosy lips, her extravagantly beautiful jade gown spattered with speaks of red. She was cold. So utterly, completely cold.
A relentless rocking motion overcame him, tears blurring her face from his vision but doing nothing to dull the agony. It ripped through him with every breath, every beat of his once cold and cruel heart that she had so painstakingly melted away.
"How am I supposed to go on without you?" The question was desolate, a chant of grief that formed on his lips over and over. Taryn's presence was dim in the back of his mind, along with the Bomb, the Roach, and the Ghost, their cries of disbelief echoing his own.
A song of despair. A song of mourning.
Every look at her, the beautiful lines of her features, the emptiness in her golden eyes once alive with such cunning and begrudging affection, only fed the furnace of his unrelenting pain, burning so unbearably hot it felt as if his throat was being branded with an iron.
"She was poisoned."
It was the Ghost that caught his attention amidst the torment of his heart. His eyes flickered upwards, tears beading on his dark lashes and continuing to streak black kohl down his pale cheeks. The Ghost was holding up a bottle of newly opened wine, the cork soaked through with the dark red liquid. A scrap of paper laid atop the table next to where the bottle had previously sat, far too innocuous to be a coincidence.
Steel hardened in his veins.
"Let me see it."
It was the Bomb that slipped the parchment from the knotted oak surface, her expression frighteningly blank despite the glisten of tears that shimmered in the light. He snatched it from her without restraint, gaze scanning over the inked message.
A gift for the High King's enjoyment.
For him.
It had been for him.
Someone had tried to poison him and killed his wife instead.
The rage that ensued tore through him with white hot fire, his embrace tightening around her and pulling her closer still, as if that could somehow save her from her already determined fate. Flowers withered on the window sills, a rumble of foreboding thunder clapping in warning before torrents of rain and lightening ensued. He would have poisoned himself a thousand times over, died a thousand times over, if it meant she would have lived.
But there was little to be done now.
Except.
He bared his teeth, canines feral.
It seemed he had found the motivation to commit his first murder.
This turned out to be longer than planned. As soon as I submitted my last final assignment for the semester, I opened up Tumblr and wrote this for @duarteegreenbriar bc of this post. You can def expect another fic where he finds about Locke *wink wink*
I hope you enjoy it! This is kinda like hc/fic based in QON while Jude is still exiled. Also its unedited because I wanted to get this out before I went on Christmas break.
“We have news for you,” was the Bomb’s way of greeting Cardan one earlier morning. Yellow and pinks drops of sunrise had just barely started to fall over Elfhame when he received the Roach’s message, asking to meet.
Not too far into Jude’s exile and a few months since the old Court of Shadows had been demolished meant that the High King and his Queen’s band of spies were meeting in an old cellar long since forgotten in the palace. The only way to even enter it was through an opening Cardan had used his new-found magic to make. The opening was hidden in a fake armoire of one of their guests rooms. The room itself was perpetual damp, insufficiently furnished, and lacking any of fun memories the old court held. But it was well protected from prying ears and hard to access so it would due.
“How are my favorite pair of mischievous friends?” Cardan smirked reflexively at the serious look on their faces. His tail twitched uncomfortably beneath his clothes.
Mouth in a thin line. Back straight. Eyes narrowed. Hand on nearest weapon. Yes, everything about the way they stood told him whatever he was going to hear would not be pleasant.
“We have news,” the Roach mimicked his companion’s no-nonsense tone.
“So I’ve heard,” Cardan rolled his eyes. He retied the thick red cape he’d thrown on himself to fight of the chill of the cellar. It gave his hands something to do other than twitch at his sides. “Jude?”
“Yes and no.” The Bomb started. “She’s fine. Safe as usually doing some odd jobs for a faerie in the mortal world.”
“This about what happened before her exile.” Roach continued. His beady eyes were unreadable as usual. “We looked into Balekin’s connections with the Sea as you asked us to. We found out what Orlagh had been doing with Jude while she was imprisoned.”
A lump sat in his throat. No matter where she was Jude always felt like the center of his world. He couldn’t go longer than an hour awake or asleep without thinking about her. Her time in the Undersea had only intensified the problem for him.
“Out with it. What did you discover?”
“You already know that Balekin thought he could glamour her. I-” the Bomb looked anxiously at the Roach. They shared a glance and she pulled a weathered envelope from inside her coat. “We think it might be best if you just read this. It’s a collection of court documents detailing what the Undersea would do to her.”
“I don’t understand. Why would they keep records of that? What use do they have of collecting memories of Jude’s torture? I thought those events were mostly private for Orlagh’s own pleasure.”
“We can only assume that there were more people attending them than Jude was led to believe. Perhaps as secret spectators. One can only guess what Undersea’s Queen was plotting.”
“There’s more. Some came from Balekin’s personal journals, uncovered despite Orlagh’s attempt to destroy any evidence of her alliance with him.”
Cardan couldn’t stand their cautious looks. He turned to face the wall behind him. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to feel such a heady mix hate and fear and sorrow and freedom all at one time. Every mention of Balekin’s name was like a blow to the stomach.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“We think it might be best if you read it. You don’t have to. There’s nothing really useful to us if you’d prefer to not know exactly what they did.” The Bomb said I’m a voice usually soft for her.
“She’s right. But I think it’s important that you know regardless. Take the papers. Read them if you want to. When you’re ready.” The Roach said in a way that suggested that it shouldn’t have even been an option to not read what was contained inside the envelope.
Cardan faced them again. The Bomb handed him the collection of papers and left. The Roach stayed back long enough to warn the High King.
“It won’t be easy. What you find in there.”
Cardan looked him in the eyes, trying to find some comfort or understanding that he could lean on. Instead he just found pity.
“Thank you. Tell the Bomb that I appreciate it. No matter what I find.”
Roach nodded and walked out of the cellar. Within seconds it was just Cardan standing in a damp cellar by himself. He stared at the weighted envelop. It felt like it was full of explosive lead, not weathered folded leaves of paper.
Cardan tucked it into his belt and trekked back up to his room. The guards lined outside of his chambers looked curiously at the sight of their High King. He closed the door behind him and stripped off the heavy cloak. Cardan sat at the bench at the foot of his large bed. He wasn’t sure if it was his right to know what happened to her during her imprisonment. If Jude had wanted to share those details with him then she would have.
Cardan stared at an empty corner of his room. A spiraling curl of vines snaked up the walls. White dahlia’s sprung up amidst the green leaves. He’d been practicing how to control his pull of the land for a few months now but it still felt odd to be able to sway nature this way and that.
He thought about the dizzying display of power he’d used when he was face to face with Orlagh. It had felt as if the very land he stood on bowed beneath his fists. He knew she’d never admit it but he remembered the look on Jude’s face when she’d first realized what was happening. She was impressed by all that he’d learned to do while she was gone.
Not gone. Captured. Held prisoner.
Cardan didn’t let himself second guess his decision. He yanked the envelop open and scanned the first few documents.
The mortal is starting to loose it’s sanity. It’s clear even the glamour can’t help it hold on much longer. It is much thinner than it had been when Orlagh first brought it. There are also a considerable number of marks left along its body. Rumor has it the princess herself may be responsible fo them.
Cardan felt like throwing up. He remembered how Jude had looked like a ghost when she'd first returned. All bones and angles when she’d been hard muscle and soft skin.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the images of her skin touching his. Of his fingers touching her. The papers in this hands made him sick to his stomach. They called her an it. And said she had marks. Not one but many.
The dahlia’s crumbled up and withered to dust. Hot pink heart-shaped buds bloomed in their place.
He flipped to the next page, recognizing the handwriting of the thick stationary paper. His hand was shaking by the time he go to the end of the torn journal entry.
Jude has been an interesting toy. A fun toy. Her attachment to my brother has been a mystery. I though perhaps she had some sort of secret or piece of black mail to hold over him. Even with the glamor, she hasn’t revealed anything if she does. Though the nature of their relationship is still unknown, I believe I have a way of figuring it out.
Cardan stood abruptly. His body hummed with nervous. His tail wriggled uncomfortably until it came loose. It swung behind him and Cardan had to step away from the bench to keep it from slamming against it. The next journal entry had him regretting he’d stood up.
Any suspicions I’d had of their relationship have been answered. I used a glamour to force her to kiss me as she would kiss my brother. It worked perfectly. It was horrendous. I hate myself for even asking her to do it. For degrading myself enough to touch a creature like her but it worked. She kissed me with all of the fires that mortal are described to feel when they love something. Their bright and easily extinguished fires. She looked at me as though I was the only man she’d ever seen and ever wanted to touch. I almost withdrew the demand but I’m glad that I didn’t. Had I gone back on my command, I never would have understood how deep her affection for him went. She truly cares for him.
The next question is how much does Cardan care for her? It’s clear he’s fascinated by her. Curious about her. But cats are curious of mice when they first chase after them. It’s after they’ve caught them beneath their claws that they bare their fangs. Perhaps that’s what Cardan has been doing. Though knowing the naive nature of my brother’s heart, I highly doubt it. I’ll find out soon enough. for the girl’s sake, I hope it’s later rather than sooner. Should Orlagh let her live long enough to ever see Cardan again, I’d love to watch him destroy that mortal love of hers.
Cardan’s knees gave out from under him. He stared at the letters for what felt like centuries. They didn’t feel real. Balekin had forced Jude to kiss him. He knew she wasn’t glamoured as he thought she had been. That meant Jude had to kiss him completely aware of her actions. She had to force herself for kiss Balekin in a way that would convince him of her love for his brother. Cardan reread it a forth time, praying that somehow the letters would rearrange themselves to tell him a different story.
Distantly he realized why the Bomb and the Roach had opted out of telling him themselves. How did you tell the High King of Elfhame that his abusive older brother forced the woman he loved to kiss him.
The paper crinkled in his hands. Cardan released an angry growl. His blood boiled as he read it for a sixth time. She never mentioned it. Not that they had much time before her banishment to talk through all the details. Nor was it likely that Jude, with her affinity for secrets and lies, would tell him the truth about the situation.
Cardan paced back and forth in the room. If she would just answer his damned letters. If he could just get her to come back to Elfhame and talk to her. To see her. To apologize for what happened between them. Between her and Balekin. He was never more grateful than he was in that moment that she killed him.
After reading the letter Cardan almost wished he’d come back to life just so he could drive the blade through his older brother himself. Cardan heard the crackling fire of the hearth. He threw the stack of papers into the fire. A thick puff of smoke fizzled out of the flames as they blackened into ash.
The ugly words disappeared from existence but the High King would never forget the torturous curves. He’d never forget what the Undersea did to her. What Balekin did to her.
Cardan rushed to his desk, brashly scribbling out a missive to send to Jude.
Jude, he started the letter. Jude. He couldn’t think of anything else to write to her. Jude. Please come back. Just come back. Jude. I’m sorry. I’ll be better. I promise. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude .Jude. Jude.
He’d filled the paper with her name. If he couldn’t see her then maybe the letters of her name would be enough to erase the sickness he felt after opening the envelope.
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Author’s Note: I couldn’t figure out how long she was exiled bc I’m still on campus and my books are at home so excuse the ambiguous timeline. If anyone knows the answer to how long she was imprisoned/exiled/when the letters were written please let me know.
