#folk of the air fanfic

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found - Chapter 8

Summary: Jude, Cardan, and Pellia head to Hollow Hall, where they encounter a few surprises—including a betrayal that could end everything. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 9168

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, death.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER SEVEN

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

A/N: I barely edited/proofread this. What's that one meme? "No beta. We die like men." Something like that. Yeah.

Also, about what happens in this chapter...? I'm sorry in advance.

***

By the time Jude made her way back to her room, the pixie had helped herself to her host’s brushes and hair ties and rooted through her drawers looking for creams and cosmetics. 

Cardan couldn’t blame her for the frustration she’d shown upon finding absolutely nothing; he had already decided that once he was turned back into himself, whether they were enemies or not—and truly, he wasn’t certain where they would stand—he would have to talk with Jude about her dismal lack of reverence for her poor skin. 

Pellia had also taken it upon herself to loot the makeshift armoury beneath the bed and had found a sleek, curved knife—an assassin’s blade, she’d said, pointing out the hidden poison compartment in its hilt—which was now thrust through her belt. She’d also liberated a whetstone and was now sharpening the blade of the stolen guard’s sword, with no small amount of cursing as her shaky hands made the task more difficult. 

Cardan didn’t miss the way Pellia flinched and froze momentarily at the creak of the door when Jude entered, balancing a tray of food on one hand and a steaming teapot in the other. He headbutted the door closed as she brought the tray to her vanity.

“Dinner rolls, vegetable and chicken soup, fruit—and tea, to help with the pain,” Jude announced. 

“Chicken soup?”

Jude gave a one-shouldered shrug. “My sister likes to bring us human things sometimes. Here.” She nudged the tray toward Pellia. “And stop going through my stuff.”

The pixie smiled sweetly at the last part, fluttering ruby lashes at the mortal girl as if to say, Who, me? But she didn’t comment as she moved from the bed to the vanity. Cardan envied her ability to remain insolent in the face of Jude’s sharp-enough-to-cut-glass glare.

Pellia didn’t even flinch, just lifted the teapot one-handed, swore as she nearly dropped it, adjusted her grip, and poured, sloshing tea over the sides of her cup as she did. She set the pot down with a clunk and a grimace.

 “What’s in it?” Pellia’s teacup was only half full, droplets running down the porcelain sides. She watched through the steam as Jude listed off a handful of herbs on her hands. Those ruby brows went up, an expression she seemed to make often.

“Girl, that’s not painkilling; that’s, like, all-sensation-in-my-entire-body killing.”

“If you don't want it—”

“No, I absolutely do. Please,” she added with a wince as Jude gripped the pot’s handle. Cardan wasn’t certain whether that wince had been borne of pain or out of the mere fact that she’d said please so genuinely, without a hint of sarcasm. He got the feeling it was both in equal measures.

As Pellia ate, Cardan joined Jude at her wardrobe to save her from committing egregious fashion sins. He hissed his disapproval to veto the tunic she was reaching for—grey on grey was not the look, especially when the leggings were a cool shade while the tunic carried warm undertones—and nosed the one beside it. 

“Jude,” Pellia said quietly from her spot at the vanity. “We need to find Balekin as soon as possible. I read the letter to Madoc, and—hold on. Did you just take fashion advice from a cat? I wish I had that on video.”

Jude’s cheeks warmed slightly and Cardan meowed indignantly. I may be a cat but I still know how to dress! he wanted to shoot back. 

At the same time, Jude demanded, “Why were you going through my stuff?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Her tone was, somehow, both genuinely confused and unbearably haughty, but before Jude could respond, Pellia waved it off and pointed out, “Anyway, you know cats can’t see the same colours we can, right?” 

Cardan would have protested, but he had noticed colours were different, especially in the beginning. He was mostly used to it now, though, and he knew some of Jude’s wardrobe from memory anyway. This top in particular was a desaturated dark blue with green undertones, long sleeves, and a deep V-neck that she had first worn about a year ago. He knew that because the image of her in that shirt, the way it hugged her waist just right, had blazed in his mind every time he’d closed his eyes for a solid week afterward. He knew good fashion when he saw it.

“Stop changing the subject,” Jude snapped.

“I wasn’t, I just thought you should be aware that you are taking fashion advice from the equivalent of a half-blind—”

Cardan’s angry growl cut her off.

“Okay, alright, sorry,” she retreated. “Don’t get your tail in a twist, kitty.”

“The letter,” Jude demanded.

“Right, yes. The deal I made with our favourite prince was that he wouldn’t harm my sister so long as I did what he wanted. But if Balekin thinks I’m dead, then there’s no more deal. There’s no one holding him accountable.” Her hands curled into fists on the hem of her borrowed tunic. “I don’t want to think about what he might do to her then.”

“You—”

“Should have thought the deal through more and made him promise to release her once I’d caught Catboy over here?” she snapped. “Yeah, I know. I was a bit panicked, considering my fourteen-year-old human sister was kidnapped by Elfhame’s soggiest piece of toast.”

“I—what?”

“Haven’t you ever, like, spilled water on your toast? And then it gets all gross and mushy? It’s literally the worst.”

Jude shook her head. “I can’t say I have. But regardless, I wasn’t trying to blame you for it. I was just going to say, you don’t look like you’re in the best shape to go tonight. Maybe we should wait a day.”

“No.” Pellia’s tone was sharp, her eyes flinty, her mouth set in a determined line. “I can do what I have to. I don’t care about myself; I just need Amber to get home safe.” More quietly, she added, “Please.”

Jude breathed deeply, then sighed. Slowly, she nodded. “Fine. I can tell I won’t be able to convince you otherwise, so we’ll go tonight. But for now, rest.”

Pellia nodded, one corner of her mouth tweaking upward in an almost-smile. “Thank you,” she said, and the gratitude in the pixie’s red eyes was the nicest emotion Cardan had seen yet. It almost made her seem approachable.

“Try to eat something,” Jude instructed, heading into her small bathing room. “I’ll be back.” 

Pellia gave a distracted wave of assent and mumbled something that could have been, “Try to stop me,” through a mouthful of soft bread. She ate quietly for a while, supplementing the meal with sips of tea. 

“This stuff’s strong,” she remarked with a nod of approval toward the teapot. “Painkilling, indeed.”

Cardan would have missed the next thing she said, breathed into her teacup as she sipped, had he not been bestowed the lovely gift of heightened cat hearing: “Maybe if I drink enough it’ll kill my emotions, too.”

He twitched his ears, letting out a short mrrow of laughter. The pixie glanced at him and huffed, something between a smirk and a wry smile crossing her lips. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought the same thing. You want some?”

In previous times, Cardan might have said yes. Yes, tea to fix the ache in his heart. Yes, tea to let him drink away the piercing, twisting blade in his gut each time his father overlooked him or his brother tossed an insult his way. Yes, because he was empty and miserable and he loathed it, loathed himself, loathed everything about this world and his place in it.

But now? Now he wasn’t so sure. 

Pellia, apparently, hadn’t missed a single one of the thoughts or feelings flickering across his face. She hummed, setting her cup down to take a spoonful of soup. 

“Perhaps I did you a favour then, dear prince.”

Cardan flattened his ears at that. Certainly he had been more content in these weeks with Jude than he had been—perhaps ever in his entire life—but he wouldn’t go so far as to say she was deserving of his thanks.

“Or not.” Again, Pellia had read his thoughts on his face. 

The hair along his spine puffed up involuntarily. It was unnerving—how she could read him so easily, even in this form, even having never known him. 

“Don’t worry, kitty,” she smirked. “I won’t tell her how much you’ve enjoyed being her pet. It can be our little secret.” She punctuated the statement with a wink. In response, Cardan gave her an eyeroll of epic proportions. 

It only served to make her laugh, which seemed to cause her pain, judging by her wince and the way she downed the remaining tea in her cup. Despite himself, Cardan felt a small amount of smug satisfaction at that fact. 

It didn’t last long. Her eyes fixed on his in a way he just knew was meant to be antagonistic. Then she dipped a corner of her bread in the soup and proceeded to chew with her mouth open. He glared back, ears flattened, and hissed his most menacing hiss. He wished Jude would hurry up with her bath. At least she wasn’t annoying on purpose, unlike Pellia, who seemed to delight in getting the last word. 

Rather than sit here with the pixie, Cardan headed for the balcony door, which Jude always left slightly ajar for him. But as he slipped outside, he heard Pellia call, “Don’t you want to stay and supervise me? Make sure I don’t get into trouble or steal her prized possessions or something?”

He turned back with a grumble because, damnit, she was right. If he left, nothing was stopping her from putting her grubby little hands all over everything in Jude’s room. Not that he would be much help if she did decide that was what she wanted to do—he was a cat and she was clearly trained in combat and treachery—but at least he would know she had done something. He could tell Jude, and Jude could end the pixie’s whole career with one punch. He’d seen her training, knew how fast she could move and what strength was hidden in her mortal bones. Jude was beautiful and deadly, and Pellia was roughly five feet tall and had just spilled tea on the desk while trying to pour herself another cup. 

So Cardan stayed, and Pellia continued to be dreadful by the mere fact of her existence and without even doing anything at all. 

They were quiet for a long while, Pellia staring across the room to the window as she ate small portions at a time, and Cardan shifting awkwardly every now and then. Pellia turned her unnatural gaze toward him, considering. His skin prickled. He wasn’t fond of the way she seemed to be sizing him up, fitting pieces of a puzzle together in her head, manipulating him into some undoubtedly terrifying plan as though he were a pawn at her disposal. He fought the twitching whiskers that were the cat equivalent of a laugh. She noticed regardless, and her own lips quirked up in a tiny, barely-there smile that didn’t match the hollow, aching look in her eyes.

She glanced away, blinking. When she looked back again, Cardan almost couldn’t see that depth hidden behind her bravado. Almost.

“Listen, kitty,” she began. Her mouth opened slightly, and she floundered a moment before she was able to force the next words through her lips on a quivering breath. “No matter how we prepare, this isn’t going to go how we plan it. Guaranteed.” 

She set her tea down and wiped her hands on Jude’s borrowed clothes. Her fingers drifted absentmindedly to the dagger in her belt, following its curves, tracing the seam around the top of its hilt. She nodded to herself, as if confirming something, before her eyes flicked up to meet his own again. 

“We need to plan for betrayal. From all sides.” Cardan's skin prickled under the intensity of her eyes boring into his. Slowly, he nodded, flicking his ears forward. 

I’m listening, the gesture said. 

A grim, determined smile played across the pixie’s face. “Okay. So here’s what I’m thinking…”

~ ~ ~

Jude towel-dried and braided her wet hair after her bath. She had taken her time to soak and wash as she sorted through everything that was unfolding. Pellia’s explanation of why she was here in the first place, as well as confirming Balekin as the mastermind behind it all, had helped, but it didn’t solve things completely. 

Neither Jude nor the pixie knew why Balekin had bothered with Cardan’s cat-metamorphosis in the first place, instead of just killing him the way Jude suspected he’d had done to Dain. Although, she supposed, considering Dain was widely thought to be the most popular contender for the next High King, it would make sense that Balekin might want him out of the way. And Cardan—pre–cat era, of course—was cruel and a menace, and would have presented less of a threat.

“Still seems like it would have been simpler to just kill him,” Jude mumbled to herself, then immediately felt bad for entertaining the thought.

She dressed quickly before leaving the bathroom, a habit she had gotten into since discovering her feline friend was actually the missing faerie prince. 

In her room, she found that Pellia had finished eating and passed out on the bed, curled on top of the sheets. Her dishes were arranged neatly on the vanity.

Cardan chirped softly in greeting from his spot by the window. 

“Has she been out long?” Jude whispered.

Cardan flicked his tail and stood for a long, languid stretch.

Jude sighed. “You could at least try to communicate with me.”

The annoyance that flared in response to Cardan’s answering yawn was quickly dampened as he twined between her feet, demanding to be picked up. She obliged.

“By tomorrow, you’ll be yourself again,” she told him, scratching the soft fur on his jaw. He purred at her touch, and she tried to pretend it didn’t make her heart ache. She wasn’t sure when she had grown so fond of him. Maybe, after this was over, she would get a cat. It wouldn’t be the same, though.

A sudden apprehension struck her. “Either that, or we’ll all be dead.”

Cardan’s purring halted abruptly at the words, and he twisted in her arms to meet her gaze, his amber eyes steady and determined. Softly, he rested one fuzzy front paw over Jude’s heart, giving her a slow blink.

There was something in his gaze, an emotion that took Jude a moment to decipher: trust. A small, hesitant smile fought its way onto her lips, and Cardan chirped softly, stretching out to poke her nose with his own. 

Then he flopped bonelessly back into her arms, lifting his chin so she could scratch his favourite spot. 

Jude rolled her eyes and released her grip on him. “Oops.” 

He scrambled as he tumbled from her arms, somehow still managing to land gracefully, and flicked his tail at her as he strutted away, nose in the air.

She didn’t bother trying to hide her smile as she began gathering the supplies they would need to confront Balekin, leaving the cat prince of Elfhame to sulk.

 ~ ~ ~

The moon was sinking low in the ever-lightening sky as the trio made their way toward Hollow Hall once more. Pellia set the pace, a steady march, while Jude brought up the rear with the lithe black form of Cardan riding fluidly on her shoulder. She had quickly discovered that walking behind her was the only way she could reliably keep track of the pixie’s movements. The red-haired girl moved so quietly, her steps often syncing with Jude’s own. Despite their truce, Jude didn’t entirely trust the other girl at her back. 

They walked in silence for the first half of the journey, the only sounds coming from their soft footfalls on the leaf-littered floor and the whisper of wind through the Milkweeds. Then Pellia stopped abruptly, and Jude promptly collided with the other girl’s back. Cardan meowed in alarm, scrambling to keep his place on Jude’s shoulder. His claws dug through her shirt and into her skin.

“Thanks for the warning,” Jude quipped, as equally annoyed at the cat prince as at Pellia.

“Ow,” Pellia accused. “That was rude.”

“You just stopped with no warning.” 

“My bad. I didn’t realise I needed your permission to stop walking.”

“You—”

“Look,” Pellia interrupted, pointing at a low bush a few steps into the underbrush. Its dark leaves were glossy and adorned with sharp points. There was some kind of black berry clinging to the stems. The pixie crouched next to the bush and began picking the fruit.

“You’re hungry?” Jude didn’t know Pellia very well, but after the way she’d refused to wait any longer to go after her sister, she was a little taken aback by the pixie’s apparent lack of focus. Then again, stopping for a picnic was certainly unexpected, and nothing about Pellia had been predictable so far.

“No, idiot,” Pellia clarified. “It’s sanguineberry.”

Jude stepped forward to take a closer look. The berries, which she’d thought were black, actually appeared to be a deep red in colour and were the size of cherry tomatoes. They were clustered in twos and threes, but Pellia twisted them off the plant one at a time.

“Never heard of it.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to.” The redhead shrugged. “Most people think it’s mildly poisonous—stomach cramps, excessive sweating, maybe vomiting a bit of blood for a day or two if you’re really unlucky—so it isn’t really gathered much. But actually—” she unsheathed the assassin’s dagger and pierced the flesh of a particularly large berry—“it’s a powerful analgesic.” 

Pellia brought the punctured berry to her lips and sucked the juice out. It deflated like a juiced orange. 

“Pellia!” Jude exclaimed, trying to grab the fruit from the pixie’s hand. She was too late. The pixie had already swallowed it, leaving the skin slightly deflated. Jude’s hands curled into fists. “I really don’t think vomiting blood is something you need to add to your condition right now.” 

The pixie just laughed. “Do you actually think I’d eat something that I just told you was poisonous?”

“It is a distinct possibility.” From his spot on her shoulder, Cardan made a sound that was suspiciously close to laughter.

“Shut it, catboy,” Pellia rolled her eyes. “It’s only the skin that you can’t eat. Look.” She peeled the skin back to reveal a pulpy red interior. It looked like a warfield. “The juice is safe to ingest—and, like I said, it’s a great painkiller.” She grinned a seemingly-bloody smile, her teeth stained from the sanguineberry juice. “If you eat the skin though, then it’s a pain causer.”

“Ha ha,” Jude deadpanned. She was about done with this conversation. “Time’s ticking. We need to go.”

Pellia nodded, suddenly serious. “I just need to collect some of these first.”

At Jude’s slight frown, the pixie smirked. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all part of the plan.”

~ ~ ~

“Where did you come from?!” 

The guard on patrol outside Hollow Hall was easy to sneak up on and easier to dispatch. Pellia had barely finished quipping, “Your mom’s house,” by the time Jude had the guard on the ground, face in the dirt. He was thrashing, demanding to know about his mother and whether she was safe. 

“My humour is lost on you,” the pixie sighed. 

“That was supposed to be funny?” It seemed more like psychological warfare than humour to Jude, but then, maybe that was what Pellia found humorous. 

“At least he gets it,” Pellia shrugged, gesturing to Cardan, whose whiskers were twitching in a cat’s smile. 

They left the guard—incapacitated but alive—behind and headed for the door. They halted at the sound of a voice.

“Alas returns the lost prince,” it said.

Cardan growled. Jude’s hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. Pellia let out an impressive string of curses at the sight of the enchanted door and its inhuman face. Her dagger had suddenly appeared in her hand.

“I thought you’d been here before,” Jude said. “This seems like a pretty difficult thing to miss.”

“I didn’t use the front door that time,” Pellia said, scowling at the enchanted face. “I’d heard about this thing but what the hell—who dreamed you up?”

“What would your mother think of that vocabulary?” the door chided. “Or that nursemaid of hers, for that matter? What was her name—Annie? No: Angela! I’m assuming she’s the one who raised you? Spirited you away so you couldn’t follow in your mother’s footsteps?” 

“How do you—actually, nevermind. You’re creepy and I don’t need to tell you anything.” Pellia moved to shove the door open, but it spoke again.

“Ah, ah. Tell me where you’ve been hiding all of these years?” it rasped. “It mustn't have been on the Isles, or I would have known.”

Pellia gritted her teeth so hard that Jude could have sworn she heard them creaking. Her grip on the dagger’s hilt was turning her knuckles white. “One more word and I dig the point of this into your eye,” she threatened.

The door swung open.

With a last glare at the enchanted door, Pellia dragged Jude and Cardan inside. She led them out of sight of the entrance and its magical guardian before turning to face Jude. 

“From here on, we split up,” she said. 

Jude nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want to find your sister while I go after Balekin?”

Pellia gave the other girl a half-smile. “I’m sure,” she said. Jude’s frown deepened as the pixie added, “I need you to promise me something.”

“What…?”

“I need you to promise that, no matter what you see, you won’t interfere. Balekin is my fight. I just need you to find my sister.” Pellia’s eyes were blazing once again with that same determination. It sent a chill down Jude’s spine.

After a moment’s hesitation, she agreed. “Okay. You get Balekin. I’ll find Amber.”

“Thank you. And good luck.” 

“You too.” 

Pellia turned her ruby gaze on Cardan, and they locked eyes. “Ready, catboy?”

Mrrroow, he responded.

Pellia smiled then slipped away, practically melting into the shadows.

~ ~ ~

“She’s kind of annoying, but I hope she doesn’t get herself killed,” Jude said. She was following Cardan through the crooked stone walls of his one-time home. 

Was it still? He wasn’t so sure. Although he could never say so, when he closed his eyes and thought about home, the image he found was starting to look less like Hollow Hall or the Palace and more like whitewashed walls, wooden beams, and smoky windows. It was starting to look like the arms of a mortal girl who had dedicated so much time and effort into returning his sorry self to fey form. 

Cardan turned into a small room—a closet, really, and scratched at the carpeted floor. Jude got the hint, running her fingers over the rug until she found the catch in one corner where it didn’t quite fit so snugly against the wall. She drew it back to reveal a trap door and, beneath that, a ladder extending into the darkness.

“Fantastic,” she muttered. “I hope I’m not about to lower myself into a hole in the ground for no good reason.”

Cardan was half-amused and half-insulted by the implication in her words. She’ll be there, he wanted to say, but he could only chirp reassuringly.

Jude scratched under his chin with one finger before inviting him to climb up onto her shoulder. 

Happily, he purred. 

At the bottom of the ladder, the tunnel ran out to either side. He kept watch to make sure no one was coming, his feline eyes comfortable in the dim light. When they reached the bottom, Cardan gave a soft mrrow and gestured to the rightmost path. 

The tunnel was wide but low. Had he been in his own body, Cardan would have had to hunch slightly to avoid scraping his head against the earthen ceiling. As it was, Jude had a couple of inches to spare, even at the lowest points, and Cardan was able to cling to her shoulder as she walked. This suited him just fine—he didn’t find the damp, earthy scent particularly appealing, and he didn’t want it all over his paws, thank you very much.

The tunnel began to slope downward and continued like that for another hundred metres or so. Amber’s makeshift cell was at the bottom of that slope. 

The rooms beneath Hollow Hall weren’t meant to house prisoners—not really. They were a safety precaution and a way to sneak around, known only by Balekin, Cardan, and a small handful of Balekin’s inner circle. 

Amber was being held in the hastily blocked off back half of an alcove that Cardan distinctly remembered as having been used to store unopened wine casks at some point. On a hook set into the hard-packed earthen wall was a key, dangling alone on a large keyring. The metal bars of the cell looked like they had been repurposed from a fence or a gate somewhere. A bucket in the corner served as a chamberpot, and a few cushions and a blanket was her bed. 

All in all, it was better than Cardan had expected, considering his brother’s habitual treatment of humans. 

“Amber?” Jude asked, stepping into the alcove. The girl at the back of the cell looked up. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Her mousey brown hair was tattered, her brown eyes wide and cautious as they took in the girl and cat before her. A smatter of freckles stood out against sickly skin that hadn’t seen sunlight in weeks. 

“You’re a person—a human,” Amber said, studying Jude. “Are you… awake?”

“Um, yes.”

The girl sat up a little straighter. “The others weren’t. The servants. They’re like zombies.”

Cardan could hear Jude swallow. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the way her brow furrowed, her jaw tightening. 

“I’m awake,” she promised. “I’m Jude. I’m a friend of your sister’s.”

That got the girl’s attention. Amber’s whole face lit up and she was suddenly on her feet. Cardan couldn’t imagine feeling that much excitement toward any of his siblings, even the not-so-bad ones. 

“Pellia’s here?” Hope was blossoming on Amber’s features, brightening her eyes and bringing her back to life.

“She is,” Jude said, grabbing the key to the cell door. “We’re getting you out.”

With a metallic click and an aching groan, the door to the cell swung out, and Amber followed, throwing her arms around Jude. The young girl’s relief was palpable. When her eyes started to water, it sent a pang through Cardan’s heart, so strong he had to look away.

That was why he was the first to see the figure that loomed out of the dark tunnel: Madoc.

“I was hoping it would not come to this,” the Redcap’s voice rumbled off the walls. Jude spun around, shoving the girl behind her.

“Madoc,” she said. Cardan knew her well enough by now to recognise the slight tilt of unease on her mouth, the way her breathing sped up ever-so-slightly when she was surprised, just for a heartbeat, before she steadied it again. He felt the hair along his back stand straighter in response to Jude’s emotions. 

Apparently Madoc could read her too. “You think I was unaware all this time that you were sneaking around with that?” He jerked his chin in Cardan’s direction, a disdainful sneer curling his lips.

“A cat?” Jude said, eyes narrowing. 

Cardan hissed, half at Madoc and half at Jude for acting like he was some common stray—he knew her angle, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“You are too intelligent to think I would believe that you have not figured out who that is. You broke into my office, stole my correspondence, and expected that I would not notice? Unlikely.”

Jude shrugged. “Worth a shot.” She was edging away from the open cell and toward the freedom of the alcove, nudging Amber along with her.

“Not really.” Madoc rested a hand on his sword hilt, a subtle threat. “Stop shuffling and put the girl back in the cell.”

Jude’s hand found the hilt of her own sword. “No.”

The identical shiiiing! of two swords being unsheathed simultaneously sang into the damp earthen tunnels. Cardan leaped to grab hold of Amber, trying to drag her out of harm’s way as Jude and her foster father faced off. 

There was no escape with Madoc blocking the alcove entrance, so Cardan nudged the mortal girl toward the wall, where she could slip behind the open door. That way, Madoc wouldn’t be able to corral them back into the cell. A quick glance up showed him a wide-eyed, white-faced Amber. He clambered up to her shoulder and leaned in, forcing a purr in an effort to comfort her. 

As steel rang against steel, Cardan tried to figure out if the trembling he was feeling was Amber’s or his own. Probably both. 

He flattened his ears as Madoc slid his blade down the length of Jude’s, bringing him inside her guard. She tried to shove him back but he disengaged with a quick twist and sent her stumbling back. As she fell, the sachet of protective herbs she kept on a cord around her neck slipped from under her tunic. Madoc lashed out with one green clawed hand, snapping it from her neck. 

Cardan could feel the magic tingling in the air as the Redcap opened his mouth to speak. 

He couldn’t let Madoc glamour Jude.

That was the only thought on the cat prince’s mind as launched himself, all claws and teeth and feline fury—straight onto Madoc’s face. Hissing and spitting, Cardan clung to the older fey, raking his nails across green skin until blood oozed from various wounds. 

Madoc screamed—in pain and anger, deep and earth-rumbling and vicious. His sword fell from his grip, hitting the dirt floor with a dull thud. He clawed at the cat whose nails were so deeply embedded in his skin, howling the whole time. His hands were bruising, grasping Cardan around the chest and neck, and try as he might, the prince couldn’t fight him off.

Thankfully, there was no need: Jude, recovering her feet and her weapon, saw the opportunity as it presented itself. She planted one foot against the wild, reeling Redcap’s hip and shoved. 

Her foster father stumbled back, arms cartwheeling as he tried to keep his balance. Cardan sprang away as he fell into the cell. Amber, still behind the door, slammed it shut, and the lock engaged with a loud click!

No one spoke. Jude pocketed the key, and she and Madoc stared at each other for a long time, their panting breaths—one tired, one angry—the only sounds in the subterranean room. Slowly, Jude picked up the sachet of herbs from where it had fallen. She re-knotted the broken cord and strung it over Amber’s neck.

“To keep you safe from glamours,” she explained, but her voice seemed quiet and far away, as though it had been swallowed by the earth. 

Blood roared in Cardan’s ears. He tried to take stock of his body—was everything intact? He twitched his tail, his ears, then did a full-body shake. Nothing hurt too badly. His ribs and neck were a little sore from where Madoc had grabbed him, but nothing was broken, no blood drawn.

Not mine, at least, he thought, flexing blood-sticky claws. He shuddered. There was no way he was cleaning that off the cat way. 

A hand brushed his shoulder and he looked up into walnut eyes. Jude. He climbed into the proffered arms. She felt warm and solid, and Cardan could almost feel the tension of the past few minutes drain from his body.

“Thank you,” Jude whispered.

She cast one more glance at her foster father, whose hands  were wrapped around the metal bars, before taking the Amber’s hand and leading her out of the alcove. 

“Let’s go get your sister.”

~ ~ ~

The silver-eyed prince was in his room when she found him. 

The heavy wooden door was cracked open, a sliver of wavering torchlight spilling out into the hallway. An invitation, taunting. Apparently, Balekin was expecting her.

So much for the element of surprise. She almost wanted to laugh, to release the nervous energy that was curling in her stomach, rendering her body electric with anticipation. 

This is it. She was either going to free Cardan and save her sister… or die trying. Hopefully the first option, but still, her mind spun. Everything felt so similar to the first time—when she’d arrived in Faerie to confront Balekin, furious and fear-filled—and look how badly that had gone, her mind insisted.

She shook her head, as though doing so could dislodge the thoughts from her brain. She’d been stupid that time, rushing in with no plan, wielding weapons and white-hot rage as her tools of revenge. This time, she was ready. This time, she had a plan and allies and she knew what she was facing. This time, she was writing the rules.

Pellia drew her sword, the one she’d stolen from the Palace guard what felt like aeons ago. Raising it to deflect a surprise attack, she pushed the door open with one foot and stepped inside. 

The centre of the room was empty except for the large area rug covering the flagstones, the furniture pushed back against the walls. In a large armchair at the far side of the room, his loose white shirt unbuttoned halfway to expose his bare chest, sat Balekin. 

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming in,” he sneered. He held a goblet in one hand, swirling its contents idly. A naked sword was propped against the armrest next to him. “Where’s your entourage?”

Pellia said nothing, just moved farther into the room.

“Nothing to say today? No witty remarks?” 

She stopped at the edge of the rug and Balekin tsked. “Boring,” he said. “I thought you’d be more interesting now, not less. Maybe your sister’s life on the line is taking its toll, hm?”

“And whose fault is that?” Pellia responded, red eyes meeting silver.

The prince smirked. “She would have been safe if you had upheld your end of the bargain.”

“I did my part!” The words slipped from her mouth without any forethought. Her sword point was aimed at Balekin’s chest, like he wasn’t half a room away. Pellia gritted her teeth, calming her voice. “I did my part,” she repeated. “I was working for you. I was following your orders. I couldn’t have done anything else.”

Balekin hummed noncommittally. “I must say, I thought you would be a little more difficult to catch. You disappointed me, Nerium.”

“You’d know about disappointments,” she said acidly. “And can we talk about the whole ordering-to-kill-me thing, ‘cause that wasn’t part of the deal! They fucking tortured me, and I didn’t talk, but you couldn’t even do a little thing like not order my death?!”

“You were a liability.”

“Fuck off.”

“And so the teeth come out,” he chuckled. “Does that not feel better?”

“Things will be ‘better’ when I have my sister, and you’re six feet under,” Pellia snapped.

Balekin smirked. “Bold words, considering you’re the reason she’s in this situation in the first place.”

“Respectfully,” Pellia said, trying hard to keep a leash on her temper, “if one more dumbfuck sentence like that comes out of your mouth, I am going to violate the Geneva Convention.” 

When Balekin’s face flickered with confusion, she said, “War crimes. I’m going to commit war crimes.”

The dark prince smirked. “You plan to fight me? In that state?” He laughed, a full-belly laugh that made Pellia want to throttle him.

She knew it wasn’t the best plan. She knew she was weak, still unhealed from her injuries and recovering from torture and starvation. But she had no other choice. She would fight, and maybe she would even get in a few good cuts before he took her down. She just had to keep him occupied long enough for Jude and Cardan to free her sister.

“Are you scared?” she taunted.

Balekin chuckled again, recognising the bait for what it was. “I am not the one who should be afraid,” he said, draining the contents of his goblet and trading the cup for his sword. He rose to his feet. “Try not to bleed all over my carpet.”

Torchlight flickered off live steel as they circled, each tracking the other’s every move. Their feet shuffled across the rug. The fireplace crackled in the background. 

Maybe, if she was lucky, Pellia could get the first hit—incapacitate him early and end the fight before he could take advantage of her injured state. 

Fast as a snake, she struck, aiming for the muscle between his neck and shoulder with an overhead slash. Balekin met her attack, deflecting her sword and shoving his own point-first toward her throat. 

She swayed out of the way just in time, though his blade did catch the side of her neck. Blood welled from the scratch. Pellia ignored it, stepping into him in an attempt to catch him off guard. Steel screamed against steel as her blade slid down the length of his. They were locked toe-to-toe. She gritted her teeth as the prince pressed down harder. This may not have been her brightest idea, and she knew he recognised it too.

“Bad choice,” he said and hooked her ankle with one foot. Pellia went down. Her back hit the ground hard, driving the air from her lungs. She had just enough sense to roll out of the way before Balekin’s sword plunged down, piercing the rug where she had been a heartbeat before.

Pellia scrambled to her feet, eyes wide, and brought her sword back to the guard position. She was moving on autopilot, her muscles taking over while her dazed mind caught up. Balekin let her rise, smirking. 

They circled again, the prince’s movements smooth and predatory while Pellia was still trying to catch her breath. Her fractured rib burned, but she pushed the pain aside, blinking rapidly. She just had to keep him occupied until Cardan found them. 

This time, Balekin attacked first. He went low, slashing for her thighs, and Pellia brought her own sword down to meet him. The clash of their weapons rang off the stone walls. 

She disengaged, knocking his blade away, and that was when she saw the opening. With all her strength, Pellia lunged forward, her swordpoint thrusting for his heart—

Balekin’s smile was that of a predator, baring its teeth as it moved in for the kill. He swayed out of harm’s way, caught her wrist in one hand, and threw her across the room.

Pellia soared. 

During the brief moment she was in the air, she found herself hoping that Cardan wouldn’t be too angry with her for failing. She hoped he and Jude would find Amber and help her get home. She hoped her sister would be okay without her.

Then Pellia slammed into the ground.

~ ~ ~

Jude followed close on Cardan’s heels as he led the way through the stone corridors of Hollow Hall. She held her sword ready in one hand, holding onto Amber’s wrist with the other. She tried not to be frustrated at the slow but steady pace they were setting—it wasn’t fair to expect Amber to keep up after having been locked in a cell for who knows how long. 

Still, she worried about Pellia facing Balekin alone when she was already injured. She would need to be one hell of a fighter to have a shot at winning that match up, and while she carried herself like someone who was capable, Jude didn’t get the sense that Pellia knew when to back down. 

Which is why, despite her promise not to interfere, Jude wanted to be there to step in if it looked like Balekin had the upper hand. But first, she had to get there.

The sound of clashing steel rang out in the next corridor. Jude slowed as she rounded the corner. Halfway down the hall was an open door that spilled light from within and, about ten feet earlier, a shallow alcove. The trio stopped before it.

“Stay here,” Jude said to Amber, tucking her into the space. “And hang onto this—just in case.” Jude unsheathed the long dagger at her hip, handing it to the girl. 

“Is Pellia in—” Amber started, brown eyes wide. She was craning her neck to see past Jude to the open door.

“Yes,” Jude said, pushing the girl back gently and forcing her to meet her eyes. “And I’m going to help her but you need to stay here, got it? I can’t help Pellia and watch out for you.”

Swallowing, Amber nodded, taking the weapon.

It was confirmation enough for Jude. She headed for the open doorway, Cardan racing at her heels—and stopped just inside the threshold, in time to see Pellia crash into the rug-covered floor. 

Jude winced, stepping farther into the room, sword raised. Cardan hurtled past her to stand between the downed pixie and the menacing form of his older brother. Balekin regarded the cat calmly, spun his own sword, and glanced sideways at Jude. 

“Oh, look: your friends have come to your rescue,” he taunted as Cardan hissed, hair puffed and claws out. 

Pellia was on her back, eyes closed and chest heaving as she tried to recover the air that had been forced from her lungs. Cardan put one soft black paw on her shoulder. “Took you long enough,” she coughed. 

Balekin looked almost annoyed. “Having others fight your battles for you, Nerium?” he said. “I thought you had more pride than that.”

Still breathless, Pellia struggled to sit up. “I do,” she said, swaying and blinking hard. She looked at the mortal girl, red eyes meeting walnut. “Jude, you promised.” 

Jude’s lips thinned, displaying her scepticism. She searched the other girl’s face, trying to find something to indicate the pixie was okay, but Pellia was pale and swaying unsteadily. 

Yes, she had promised not to step in. But if she didn’t, the chances of Pellia being alive to take her sister home at the end of this were slim. Jude tightened her grip on her weapon.

“Pellia—” Jude started, but the pixie cut her off. 

“No,” she snapped. “This is my fight.”

Balekin laughed. “Stubborn to the end. Will you still feel that way when I run you through?”

Pellia smiled back, cold and ruthless. “Violence isn’t the only way to do battle, Balekin. You’re playing my game now; maybe next time you should read the rules.”

She grabbed Cardan by the scruff of his neck, hauling the cat toward her and climbing to her feet. He scrambled as she lifted him into the air, flailing against her hold until she drew her stolen dagger. She placed its tip against the delicate skin of Cardan’s throat, and he stopped struggling. 

She’s going to kill him, Jude thought, stunned. She could feel the blood draining from her face. After everything, she’s going to kill him. And she’s going to use my knife to do it.

Balekin was less stunned. “You won’t kill him,” he chuckled. 

“No?” Pellia gritted her teeth, adjusting her grip on the hilt. “And why's that?”

“What would you gain? Killing him won't get you your sister back.” Disdain coloured the prince’s voice, but there was something else, something other—the slightest tinge of uncertainty hiding in the space between his words.

Pellia nodded, considering. “Maybe not. But what do you really know about me?” Her breathing was heavy and pained. Her eyes bore into Balekin's with a fury so hot it could have started a wildfire. “Killing him might not get me my sister back, but it sure as hell will cause you some issues,” she spat. 

The fey prince was quiet for a long moment, calculating. Jude’s heart dropped all the way to her stomach. Her eyes flicked back and forth, from Pellia to Balekin, from hot, wild rage to cool, quiet calculation. Then Balekin straightened, an ugly half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“I do not think you have an accurate read on my relationship with my little brother,” he explained. The words were oily smooth and indifferent. Jude wanted to scratch them off her skin. “I would not cry if he were gone. I do not care for him the way you care for that mortal brat.”

The reference to Amber caused the pixie to flinch. "I didn’t say you cared," she snapped back. “I don’t think for a moment that you'd be sad over his loss—you’d have to have a heart for that.” She held Cardan higher and stepped closer to Balekin. “I just think it would cause you some problems. How can you be his benevolent saviour if he's dead? How can you manipulate someone who owes you nothing?”

Balekin opened his mouth to speak, but Pellia shook the cat, pressing the knife closer. Cardan squawked in alarm, and his brother fell silent.

“Isn't that your plan?” she ranted, voice rising. “Isn’t it?! Massacre your family, but keep him—” she nodded to the cat hanging uncomfortably by his scruff “—safe, so you can play the saviour? So he’ll be indebted when you find the antidote to the spell that made him this way? I’m not done,” she snapped as Balekin drew breath to speak.

Veins were pulsing in the dark fey prince’s forehead, his eyes a rage-filled inferno. His jaw was so tight Jude could almost hear his teeth creaking under the strain. Any moment now, he would erupt.

“You don’t care about Cardan,” Pellia continued, “only his royal lineage. You just need someone to put the crown on your head. Well, news flash, buddy,” she scoffed, “it won’t be him.”

Balekin lunged for Pellia with an inarticulate roar. She must have seen it coming as Jude had, though, and a quick sidestep carried her out of harm’s way. The fey prince’s momentum carried him forward to trip over Pellia’s extended ankle and he skidded across the floor to stop at Jude's feet. 

Jude, who jumped backward to avoid a collision. Jude, who looked up and felt the blood drain from her face. Jude, who couldn’t hide her look of complete and utter horror at the sight before her. Her heart felt as though it had stopped, and also as though it were trying to beat out of her chest. Her body was numb. She stared.

Balekin turned, too, his sword falling from his grip as he beheld the scene taking place. 

“You bitch—” he snarled.

Across the room, Pellia crouched to lay the still body of Cardan on the floor. Darkness coated his cat's chest, a red stain seeping into the carpet beneath him. Jude’s dagger in her hand ran red from hilt to tip. 

When she spoke, the pixie’s voice was quiet. Flat. 

“What's your plan now, Balekin?”

Jude could barely tear her gaze away to see the prince’s reaction. His face contorted with fury, a hate so black it nearly seeped the light from the room. Balekin screamed and charged for Pellia—then stopped. 

He looked down. The silver point of Jude’s sword protruded from his stomach. The anger fell from his face as she tried to figure out what it meant, what had happened. When Jude yanked her blade from his body with a slight squelch, he swayed, stumbled forward, then fell at Pellia's feet. 

Jude barely noticed. She was halfway to Cardan, scrambling, the floor feeling oddly immaterial beneath her feet, when Pellia’s voice rang out, laced thick with glamour:

“Stop,” she commanded, and Jude felt her feet freeze beneath her. 

Those stupid herbs. In trying to uphold her end of the deal, in trying to help Amber before all else, she had given up the one thing that had protected her against the glamour. She threw herself against the magic restraining her, but still her feet remained locked to the ground. 

Panic began to creep through Jude’s veins and hot tears burned her eyes. 

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing in Pellia’s magical hold. "Let me see him!" 

The pixie looked taken aback for a moment. “I’m sorry for the pain this has caused you, Jude,” she said. She sounded sincere. It meant nothing.

“Fuck you!” Jude’s voice broke over the words. Her heart felt like it was being ripped in half. “How could you?! He did nothing! You were supposed to help him—you're a liar!”

Pellia shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, then, glamour lacing her voice again, she ordered, "Please, be quiet." 

The air rushed from Jude's lungs. No matter how much she screamed and sobbed, no sound came out. With silent tears streaming down her face, she collapsed to her knees. 

Pellia turned back to Balekin. Panting from the pain of his wound, he had struggled his way onto all fours and drawn a knife. It was a simple matter to knock one hand from under him, sending the prince crashing face-first into the carpeted floor. Pellia lowered herself to a crouch beside him and laid the edge of her dagger under his jaw. 

“Ah, ah,” she tutted. “Let's not do that, shall we? You lost. Now tell me: what did you use to bind the cat spell?”

“What does it matter?” Balekin snarled. “You’ve already killed him.”

“Humour me.” Pellia’s voice was sweet and deadly, dripping honey over a razor sharp blade. “I’m ever so curious.”

When he still refused, she applied pressure to the weapon at his throat. A thin line of blood sprang up where the blade met flesh, and the prince flinched.

“The ring,” he spat, voice dripping with contempt. “The match to the one you put on him.”

Pellia smiled, cold and sharp, giving him some space to move. "Remove it for me." Balekin's fingers trembled as he did, though with rage or fear Jude couldn’t be certain. The stone set into the band was the same warm orange as the cat's eyes. Jude’s heart ached at the thought of never seeing those eyes again. As Balekin dropped the ring into Pellia's hand, the air in the room seemed to crackle. Through wet eyes, Jude looked to Cardan; shimmering white light glowed over the cat's changing body.

“Thank you,” Pellia said from her spot with Balekin. Neither she nor the prince seemed to have noticed Cardan’s transformation.

“Would that misfortune follow you, any path you take,” the injured prince spat—an ancient curse. 

Pellia raised her eyebrows at him, unphased. “Go stick your dick in a toaster, fucknugget.” She glanced over her shoulder to where the naked-but-very-much-fey body of Cardan now lay. 

“It’s over, Catboy. You’re good now.”

Jude didn’t understand what she meant at first. Her confusion was answered a moment later as Cardan sat up, graceful as ever and uninjured. Then it hit her full force as she realised—Cardan had just sat up, graceful as ever and uninjured. The shock of it was enough to stop the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Jude,” Pellia said, “I release you, as long as you promise not to stab me.”

Still trying to wrap her mind around what was happening, the girl nodded, and the glamour broke. She hurled herself across the room at the newly-returned fey prince and dipped to her knees beside him, hands hovering, unsure whether to hug him or hold his hand or die of embarrassment over the sheer amount of relief she was feeling—or over the fact that he was sitting there, fully nude and still glowing with the effects of the spell, which she was just processing now. Jude felt her cheeks flame at the realisation. Cardan, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected. 

Instead, he gave her a crooked smile. “Hello, Jude,” he said. 

She could feel herself turning an even deeper shade of red. “Um—hi,” she stuttered, her tongue feeling awkward in her mouth. “I’m—I’m glad you’re back.” She studied a particularly interesting spot on the stone wall behind him, refusing to meet his eyes.

That didn’t last long. Cardan began to sway as the light around him faded. Instinctively, Jude reached out to steady him. He fell against her. 

“Jude,” he said again, insistent as his voice started to slur with sleep. “You need to know….”

Then he passed out.

~ ~ ~

Pellia watched as Jude hurtled across the room to Cardan's side. It had been difficult for her to intentionally allow the girl to believe she had killed Cardan. After all, Pellia knew firsthand what it was like to have someone important stolen from right under your nose—the feelings of helplessness and despair and anger that it provoked. She comforted herself with the knowledge that it had been a quick affair, just long enough to force Balekin to remove the ring that bound the spell. 

Pellia wiped sanguineberry juice from the assassin's dagger before sheathing it at her hip. Her body ached, protesting its recent treatment, and she knew it would only get worse as the adrenaline faded. She wished she had thought to save some of those blessed painkilling berries, instead of putting them all into the poison vial hidden in the dagger's hilt.

“Pell?” 

The pixie girl spun toward the voice. It came from the main doorway, where a slight figure stood, shrouded in shadow. Pellia swallowed. 

“Amber?”

“PELLIA!” Amber exclaimed. She rushed forward, tackling her older sister in a bone-crushing hug, tears streaming down her face.

“Can’t breathe—” Pellia winced at the pain in her ribs but held on just as tight. She pulled back for a moment to fervently check her sister’s face. Amber was pale, her cheeks sunken and eyes haunted, but it was her.

Pellia took a breath that morphed into a sob. She'd done it. Amber was here. She was real and solid and alive, and she was here. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Pellia whispered., burying her face in her sister's hair as they sank to the floor. 

Amber held on tighter. Her tears turned to sobs as the two girls clung to each other, neither wanting to let go. “I—I thought I was—" she hiccuped and started again. “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Pellia's heart cracked. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “You’re safe now. I’m so sorry.”

The younger girl shook her head, her face still buried in Pellia’s shoulder. “You were right,” she admitted. Her voice cracked, and she clutched at Pellia's clothes, holding on as tightly as she could. “It’s scary here.”

Pellia’s heart broke in her chest. “I know,” she whispered, stroking her sister's hair. “But it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take you home.”

***

A/N: That wasn't that bad, right? Happy ending? For everyone except dear Balekin? Also, I know this started mainly with Jude and Cardan. I'm sorry to anyone who is disappointed about the copious amounts of Pellia screentime. I haven't read FotA in like three years and I don't remember enough to write them in-character. So yeah, Pellia took over.

Theoretically, there is one more chapter to be written. Will I actually write it? Who knows. (Probably, but it'll take A Bit.) (I've learned my lesson about posting as I write... So much respect to people who are dedicated and organized enough to do that. You really gotta have the plot figured out first. Anyway. Lesson learned. If I ever write anything else, I will finish the story before posting.)

Thanks for reading, friend. Hope you enjoyed. <3

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @black-like-my-soul @mirubyai @eldritchred @hpcdd3 @myunfortunatenightmare @angelpaulene ​ @localgoof @garnet-baby @iamaprincessallgirlsare

[atlasrep]

Hey, i just began writing a jurdan fic based on a prompt i saw here. So a fortune teller comes to class and tells them that they're gonna get married.

[daphnechantandshant]

Sometimes, Jude will let herself cry into Cardan’s shoulder, let herself be held in his arms, let his hand stop the shaking of her own. She will let him whisper “I’m here” and “I love you” into her ear and let him kiss her tears away. It happens rarely, but when she lets her thoughts spindle out of control (again, rarely) she will think of those three horrible days that Cardan was gone. Those three horrible days that she thought he was gone forever despite what she had been telling herself. She thought about how those three horrible days could have turned into three horrible weeks, months, years. And so she lets herself sink into his warmth and remind herself that he is here, and he loves her, and he’s real. And she prays to a god she didn’t and still doesn’t believe in that it isn’t a dream.

[viivdle]

this happened

and i totally don't have a fic abt it.. cough bloodshed, crimson clover cough

[avelanlorelay]

Hummingbird

She opened her eyes. There was no way she wouldn’t wake up, with him moving around so much. Jude thought about waking him up with a poke and asking what his problem was. Instead, she watched.

Cardan tangled his feet in the sheets, his long eyelashes flapping like the wings of a hummingbirds on his cheeks – soft and fast, as if he was going to wake up at any moment. He didn’t.

His tail twitched slowly from side to side, as if it were also asleep but restless. Which was strange, because when they slept he always wrapped it around Jude’s leg or left it glued to his own body. So as not to disturb her and probably to prevent Jude from lying on top or pulling it unintentionally. She thought it should be as sensitive as a cat’s tail.

The soft lips and the black eyebrows furrowed. A low, hoarse, frustrated moan escaped his mouth. He rolled over and tangled his feet again. His tail twitched and he accidentally hit Jude. She sighed. There was no way to sleep, indeed.

Jude reached up and stroked its raven-feathered hair. It were fluffy, although always messy, and slightly damp with sweat. She brushed it away from his face and left a small kiss on his exposed forehead.

Cardan sighed and as Jude stroked his hair, his breathing became heavier. He finally stopped tossing and turning.

Jude smiled, unable to stop the caress even when he closed his eyes again. Just as she was about to fall over the edge of sleep, she felt his hands pull her around the waist, bringing their bodies closer together until there was only room for the warmth between them.

She opened her eyes, but the hummingbird on his eyelids had finally stopped. Jude felt a slight tickle on her calves as his tail wrapped gently around one of her legs.

He let out a long sigh in his sleep, their bodies cuddled together in a corner with most of the large bed empty. Jude closed her eyes again and finally fell asleep, feeling the perfume and the loving warmth of his arms.

I found this in my notes. In Twk, Jude sees Cardan tangling his feet in the sleep and I thought it was so cute 🥺

[ilianapatataa]

Incorrect quotes pt.3

Jude and the Bomb in the mortal world:

Bomb: what’s that?

Jude: A bath bomb.

Bomb: So can I blow it up?????

Jude: Nooo, it’s for a BATH!

Bomb: but that’s so boring!

[iscreammutiny]

Primroses

Jude x Cardan

Post Qon/Cardan's pov/Angst/Hurt/Comfort if you squint/Cardan is traumatised/Jude is also traumatised damn/bit of fluff in the end

(FIRST EVER JURDAN FIC HELLOOO sorry if the pacing is off and if there are some horrendous mistakes guys english is not my first language☝️ but I'll get there someday ong)

——————————————————————

Several jagged branches snake over a glass window, covering it, as dusk spills onto the High King's sleeping form in slits of pale, shifting light.

But the land, drowsy as it is with the slow rise and fall of his breath, isn't fast enough to stop the cold from creeping in and nipping at his fingers–a troublesome little gift from winter's last of evenings.

He stirs, slumber disrupted from the sudden sharpness in the air, blearily stretching his hand out to grasp for more warmth, fingers splaying out across the bed for the familiar dip of a waist, only to be met with cold, bare sheets. Cardan stills then, eyes snapping open in alarm.

The High King of Elfhame has never been fond of the colder weather. Not only does he find it dull and dreary, he finds it to be cruel too, ironic as that would've been a few years ago.

It irked him then, the fact that there was too much to miss, too much to long for. And It irks him now–now that it holds too many reminders. Of wretched times, of his own year of hollow hands, pierced with the stinging absence of sharp blades and even sharper eyes.

It terrifies him still, the idea of winter returning.

He lies there, frozen in his spot, staring at the ceiling as the branches and leaves covering it start to writhe, coalescing into a dense, panicky mass of rot, sprouting and resprouting again.

Fear is familiar, his one constant, he should be used to it by now. But this...this is entirely separate. A kind of sickness he can't seem to shake off, a bone deep terror, of waiting for the other shoe to drop, the arrow to find its mark, the price of his undeserving head to finally catch up to him.

He doesn't dare turn his head to the side or tear his eyes off the ceiling, doesn't want to look. Because what if he finds out that he's been dreaming all this time–another one of those illusions borne out of plum wine?

That, drunk and slumped over, he's awoken just now to realize that the other side of the bed has been empty all along?

"Jude?", he whispers into the near dark, heart sinking when he hears nothing but the sound of his own breathing. A brief vision of empty palace halls at dusk flashes in his mind, looming above him, echoing with the ghostly voices of distant revels as he shuffles along, moth eaten fur pelts trailing behind his small form. He closes his eyes, allowing the dark to have its way with the unwelcome memory.

It was funny, really. A soundless twilight still seemed to him like a token of his own misery, one he can trace all the way back to the sour tang of cat's milk on his breath, long before the days he’d spent on hollow hall's floor crouching and heaving, finding a detached sort of similarity between his own soul and those terribly vacant halls in his childhood.

And yet, of all the weapons that have ever been used on him, his queen's silence is, by far, the one that has wounded him the most.

Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude-

His chest heaves, straining as the panic fully sets in. He kicks at his sheets and scrambles upright to check, to see for himself because, miraculously, he might just be wrong. Perhaps he has been worrying for naught–and yet.

And yet, a part of him is already thinking: just rip the bandaid off, just rip it and be done with it.

He turns to look and, immediately, the rush in his head goes quiet. The branches overhead cease twisting as breath stutters out of his chest in a faltering sigh. Everything stills, then eases back into place because there it is, silken sheets rumpled on the far side of the bed. There she is, whole and hale, pale light tracing the familiar outline of her silhouette. Must've rolled off to the edge of the bed in her sleep, the chestnut of her hair spilling onto a half occupied pillow, the slow rise and fall of her sleeping form, curled into a scythe of a girl and stars above, could he get more foolish than this?

He uncurls his hands from fists he'd unknowingly wounded them into, watching the crescents buried into his palm turn red. Haltingly, Cardan scoots forward and reaches out towards her. His hand shakes, a whisper of a touch, barely there as he tries to brush the hair out of her face. Her lovely, and for once, untroubled face. He has to be careful because Jude is a light sleeper and any manner of respite is rare for her(and if she is a figment of his imagination—he doesn't want to let go just yet).

Unconsciously, she nestles into his palm as he gingerly traces the hollow of her cheekbone. A sick little laugh crawls up his throat, turning into a quiet sob as he tries to steady his heart. She's here, he tells himself, be still, be still, be still.

Instinctively, his fingers curl around the shell of her ear, thumb caressing its soft, mortal curve. And as his nails lightly press into the skin behind her ear, a hand grips at his wrist, and Jude is bolting upright, taught as a bowstring, shoulders squared as if to attack.

She pins his arm to the bed frame and uses her other hand to push his shoulder backwards. Cardan stiffens.

Her eyes, momentarily wild and unseeing, focus onto his face and she falters mid twist. Her hand on his wrist immediately relaxes, the other one trailing up to rest against the side of his neck, an apologetic frown already crossing her features.

"I'm sorry I–" she sees the stricken expression on his face and stops short – "what is it?"

Her thumb brushes the edge of his jaw and Cardan lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes stinging.The gesture is simple, one he hasn't gotten used to yet, but it is involuntary. The familiarity in her touch has him unspooling.

He covers her hand with his own and shakes his head in what he hopes is an assuring gesture, not trusting his voice at the moment, struggling to collect his thoughts. He knows he's doing it again. That old trick with the mask, trying to smooth its edges over his face. A game of hiding where no one seeks him out–even though he knows now that she will. She'd drag him by the scruff if it came to that. But old habits die hard.

A long moment of silence passes and he realizes that Jude is waiting for him to speak, gently stroking the inside of his wrist, entirely at odds with the smooth, unperturbed set of her face.

And yet, even in the near dark room, where the old wood of her eyes is illuminated only by a thin slash of dusky light, he finds in them a scrap of fear akin to his own–one he knows will take longer than anything else for them to wrestle with and have it buried along with the rest of those who have threatened this fragile peace.

He tucks an unruly strand of hair behind her ear, as he'd been meaning to do before, and presses his mouth to her temple, breathing in the familiar scent of verbena. "It's nothing. You're here." he whispers.

She tilts her head back to look at him, eyes searching, "Of course." She says, lacing their hands together, and then peers around to stare at the window. She waits for a moment while the branches recede to give a clear view of the sky, which is now a luminous ink blue. Humming in thought, she turns back to him and says, "We are to attend council in another hour or two."

"Yes." He answers tiredly, dragging a hand over his face.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to rest for a little while longer, no?"

Cardan smiles a little at that, already nestling back into the sheets and dragging her along "No, of course, it won't." He pulls her in to tuck her head under his chin, "Besides," he continues, "you'll require it if you have to deal with Randalin today."

At that, Jude groans into his chest and he can already feel the cogs turning in her head, coming up with more ways to outmaneuver the council. He chuckles into her hair and rubs her back, "Rest, first." He murmurs and she hums, sleep prodding at the edges of her voice again.

Primroses bloom along the edge of the bed frame, wilder and whiter than any other.

Right there, with his fearsome queen tucked under his chin, the king of Elfhame knows this too: That no fear could ever be stronger than the weight of her battle worn body in his arms. And even that pales in comparison to the ruthless glint in her eyes for when she wields her blade to kill.

[wanderingpages]

peach!! can you write a car sex jurdan smut? it can be short but the concept is so sexy 😭 on my knees rn

∞

“You’re trouble,” Cardan had told me minutes prior, but he repeats it now, more wary than he had been when he said it by the bar. Maybe I had used him then, because it sounded like flirting to me and I so badly needed his help. It’s how I’d always gotten what I needed before. Maybe I thought he was no different, so I took him down to a hall no one ever used and pressed him up against the wall. I smiled at him, feeling shy from his attention but not wanting to admit it. My hands had wound around his neck, and his fingertips traced up my shoulder, guiding my hair to one side. He placed a kiss on my throat and I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Then further up he trailed his soft lips and I gasped. I gripped at his hair to guide his lips to mine. He tasted heady and like the scotch I had given him. Cardan had cradled the back of my head, tilting me as he pressed his tongue into my mouth to open and deepen the kiss. He felt like mine, I felt a little guilty answering his question.

“Jude,” he had murmured against my skin, kissing a patch from my mouth to my throat, then his lips were by my ears and he asked, “What do you want from me, princess?” When I told him, he immediately fell back, only half in a daze but vehemently shaking his no – but I won in the end, because here we are, where I asked to be. I feel only a little remorseful and he’s telling me I’m trouble again.

I tilt my body, trying to get a closer look at the scene, but no matter how much I shift and turn, I can’t quite make out who my father is with, nor what he’s saying. My finger absently finds the buttons on the side of the car, but before I can lower the window, Cardan takes hold of my wrist. I’m already practically on top of him, my knees bracing against the console from the passenger’s side, and a hand planted firmly onto his lap. So it shouldn’t bother me when he pulls me closer, tightening his hold on me. Cardan’s warm fingers encircle my wrists, his thumb right where my veins sing.

I’m alive, he should note. I give him a look, eyes unable to stray too far from his still pink and swollen lips. I did that, I think to myself. I wonder how many other can say the same. And then I realize I don’t actually want to consider that at all. Cardan narrows his dark eyes at me, “Don’t even think about it, Jude.” My name on his tongue always felt like sin, but it’s when he teases me with my pseudo-reign that I feel like penance should only a breath away.

“But -” my mouth feels dry, searching for excuses but he shakes his head, halting my explanation.

“We’re not even supposed to be here,” he seethes, “and if you think we’re not being watched right now, you’re sorely mistaking.” I find myself pouting when he firmly guides me back into my seat, forcing me to gather the rest of my surroundings. We’re in a secluded area, backroads lined with trash bags and oily pathways between buildings. My father is currently having a “business meeting,” as he explained before abruptly leaving. I’ve only ever seen business meetings that take place between alleyways in movies that involve the mob.

When I tell Cardan this, pointedly looking at my father’s silhouette, he gives me a dry kind of look I choose to ignore. So long as he’s looking at me, I suppose. He was left in charge of watching over the club in Dad’s absence, but we both knew it just meant watching over me.  I was working the bar tonight, a job my father now is incredibly annoyed with, despite the fact it had been his suggested punishment for my overspending a bit.

“Just because there’s no limit does not mean you get to test that theory, Jude.” I roll my eyes now, because jokes on him; I'm a hit at parties now that I know to mix drinks and do little flairs that I’m quite proud of. I like to impress Cardan with them when he leaves Dad’s office and orders something boring on the rocks. I’m nearly positive that’s the charm that had him following me to that hall and led to him driving me right where we are currently parked.

“Haven’t you heard the saying? Curiosity killed the girl.”

“It does not go like that,” I tell Cardan, unamused.

I’m no idiot, I know Madoc’s club is only half of where our family income comes from, and the guests he entertains in the VIP section are never just guests. Business partners maybe, buyers or sellers, I could never tell. It was the same as usual until Dad had gotten a phone call in the middle of his hosting. It had seemed as if he had been waiting for the call all evening. However, him leaving abruptly made me too antsy to stand idle and make vodka cranberries all night. It always felt like the entire staff was in on a big secret I wasn’t apart of. It didn’t help that lately, Dad had been a little worn down, coming home tired or frustrated, answering calls curtly, stuck in his own head looking haggard. I’m allowed to worry.

“You didn’t,” Cardan says, pausing the sudden gnawing I’d been doing on my bottom lip, “by the way. Your bar tricks are not what got you into my car.” I guess he’s a mind reader now too.

“You’re telling me you weren’t impressed with my juggling?” I didn’t even break a bottle this time.

He sighs, “you probably could have just asked and I’d taken you.” I raise an eyebrow, not believing him since even with all my womanly whiles and eccentric charm, I still had to plead with him to get out here. The side of his lip tilts up in a smirk. “I just like watching you beg.” He shrugs, “So, you would have begged.” His warm voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Maybe I would have gotten you on your knees.” He could still get me on my knees if he asked nicely, but I don’t tell him that.  Cardan glances out the window, making a face at the two men. “There’s no point in being here if you can’t even hear what’s being said.”

I nod at this, finding my composure. “Exactly, Mr. Greenbriar.” I grin, “We should move closer.”

“No,” he tells me. He fumbles for the lock but my door is swung open before he manages to press the button. His eyes widen, “Jude,” he scowls quietly when I give him a triumphant grin. Without waiting, I duck for cover, sneaking up closer to the building. “Fuck me,” I hear Cardan moan. “Jude, you idiot,” he mutters, silently getting out of the car and following me. When he’s caught up, he pushes me behind him as we near the corner of the building. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Are you not carrying?” I ask a bit startled. “Wait so that wasn’t a gun in your pocket? You really were excited to see me?” His hand comes over my mouth, and my eyes widen in shock, absolutely enthralled with the way he’s decided to manhandle me tonight. I’m always the one testing boundaries, so maybe my heart pounds a little faster at our proximity more than the shooters probably ready to gun us down – if Cardan is right about us being watched.

“Have you always been this bratty?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him instead of giving him an actual answer. He looks heavenwards before moving to stand behind me. One hand is now across my chest, the other still firmly over my mouth. I lick him but he doesn’t let off. “Of course, I’m armed, but I’m not Superman, princess. I don’t even think I have 15 rounds,” he says the last part more to himself, but that’s news to me anyways.

We lean closer to the alleyway, bracing our shoulders on to the bricks of the building. Whatever Dad and his friend are talking about is only slightly less muffled than before. Its longer than I expect to finally make out pretty keywords like “shipment” and “missing equipment,” and then something that has me ridged.

“You have three daughters don’t you, Madoc?”

“Don’t bring them into this,” Dad responds clearly. My heart beats even faster, I'm all too aware of Cardan’s palm searing hot against the unsteady thumping. He pulls me even tighter against him. Dad says, “I came in good faith to hear you out. You’re the one who lost my supplies.”

“You’re the one who lost two of my guys,” the other man counters, not really angry and seemingly uncaring for the men in question. He makes my skin crawl on sight alone.

“That’s not my -”

The other man holds up a finger, cutting my father off, offending me in the process. His phone had been ringing and Cardan stiffens, as the man answers, eyes still boring holes into my father. “Yes…really? Okay...” He hangs up and tilts his head, “Good faith? Someone’s tailing us.”

“I didn’t -” whatever my dad says, I don’t get to hear. Cardan is cursing, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me towards the car. It’s a struggle because my entire body wants to run to Dad, but the hold Cardan has on me is iron tight. A shot goes off and my body seizes. My eyes go so wide they hurt. I only wanted to know what Dad was hiding, wanted in on the big secret everyone knew but me – wanted some type of undeniable proof so he couldn’t brush this away, brush me away. More shots are fired and I’m too far to know who’s shooting at who.

Cardan pulls open the car door and shoves me in before rushing to the other side. I don’t even have my seatbelt on when he pulls out of the spot. I hear more bangs ricocheting and panic begins to set in, “Cardan! Dad -”

“He’s fine – Balekin wasn’t lying.”

“Balekin?”

Cardan doesn’t exactly answer me, but continues, “Madoc definitely brought back up. No good faith and all that.” He waves his hand and it freaks me out that both hands are not on the steering wheel. It also unnerves me that Cardan knows my Dad’s tells more than me. “We, on the other hand…” he trails off, shifting gears and stepping on the gas. My heart flies into my throat. I hurriedly manage to snap on the seatbelt, but even then, I don’t think that’ll protect me at all if Cardan decides to bend us into a tree or light pole or worse – another vehicle. “God,” he mutters, “you’re so reckless, Jude” he mumbles, “absolute fucking brat,” he continues. My cheeks flare pink but I hold my tongue, scared I might vomit if I talk. I grip at the leather seats so tight I feel my knuckles start to cramp. “And me – I follow you like a fucking dog.” Outside is a blur of lights and the night sky. I'm too scared to look at the speedometer but I know it’s beyond what the legal limit is. The one reprieve is that the road is clear for now.

“I think where in a fifty zone,” I finally manage in a squeak. Cardan side eyes me and I let out a yelp, “Oh my god, pay attention to the road!”

My hysterical tone eases him somehow, because he begins to relax. He eyes the rear view mirror and shrugs, taking a hand off the steering wheel again. My heart is beating so fast that my eyes seem to shake at every little pump. “We’re good,” he lets me know. He smirks at me and when I look sick at his lack of attention to the road, he tells me, “Crack the widow, let your hair down and all.” He does it for me with his free hand reaching to the top of my head, pulling at the clip securing my bun. It unravels just as the window slides down. Air gusts through my hair and stings my face.

My ears are filled with the rush of wind. “I…” My words are lost in the noise.

“It’s okay, princess, I’m a good driver,” he promises.

“What are you,” I manage, hoarse, “Dad’s getaway driver?” he shifts gears and I'm seeing double. Soon we’ll be doing donuts in the parking lot.

He shrugs, “When he needs me to be.” I remember what he said about curiosity killing the girl and that must explain the stroke I’m having. I feel like an idiot – a little girl trying to be much bigger than she is. What the hell would Dad even say if I go to him about tonight? He’d probably gaslight me. I shakily look back, wondering if we’re being followed. I calm when I see that its just us. “Do you trust me?”  

I nod my head and settle back into the seat. I try to get my mind off of this, thinking about our kiss from earlier instead. Had only an hour passed since then? I should apologize for leading him on only to get him here. Except I hadn’t really led him on. I’ve wanted Cardan since the moment Dad introduced us. I think him working directly under my father only fueled my desire more. It felt very taboo. However, those thoughts only race my pulse for a completely different reason. Slowly, I release my death grip on the seat and hold my hand out to Cardan. He raises a brow, but takes it anyway, letting me squeeze it tightly. “Yeah,” I whisper. I clear my throat, “I trust you.”

There’s a lot to take in, but I'm trying to stabilize my pulse instead. It’s like an onslaught of adrenaline wafting through me repeatedly and I can’t find a release. The car rolls to a stop just off the highway and into the cover of trees and shrubbery, This feels like an illegal spot to park, but what do I know? I watch in a stupor as the slim needle on the dashboard falls from somewhere in the hundreds down, down, down to 0. I find myself absolutely petrified but yet a giggle escapes me. Suddenly, I have this uncontrollable urge to laugh because if I don’t, I think I might cry.

“Are you okay?” Cardan reaches over and unclips my belt. He then brushes my hair back, forcing my gaze to his. He thumbs at my eyes, tearing up from the wind, and not at all because of the emotional turmoil I’m going through.

The rush that had been whipping past my ear had been halted so suddenly that my head begins to sway. I turn to look at him, uncaring for once how unput together I must look. “Dad…”

“He’s fine,” Cardan says again, sure of himself. “Are you?”

“Not dead,” I confirm, and he gives my hand a little squeeze. I give him a dazed look, and then, I smile softly at him. It must have been what he was waiting for. In one swift motion, Cardan tugs me over the console, guiding me to straddle is lap. My skirt hikes up and Cardan only pushes it up higher. There’s a pulse between my legs and when he pulls me down, his breath tickles my skin, filling me with heat all the way to the pit of my stomach.

“You’re okay,” he tells me quietly. “It’s okay, Jude.” I nod, placing my hands in his shoulder, fingers teasing at his dark curls. I stare at his neck, at the tendon there that I want to place my lip against. I bend down to do just that, letting his steady pulse beat against my skin. “Jude,” he murmurs, tilting his head to give me more access. When I press my lips on his skin, he sucks in a breath.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, leaning up.

His hands run up my thighs, and if I had survived a shootout and a lone speed race, I don’t think I can survive Cardan and the way he looks at me right now. “For what?”

“Using you?”

Cardan chuckles, and reaches one hand up, working at the buttons of my shirt. Slowly, he pushes it off my shoulders, letting the material fall to the floor, all the while he’s admiring the swell of my breasts, contained only by sheer white lace. He looks up at me, gauging my come down from the adrenaline. I’m still utterly tweaked, and every touch of his is no help at all. My skin is on fire everywhere his fingertips touch. He teases a digit over my breast, up my neck and to my chin, pinching it between his fingers and pulling me forward. “I don’t think it counts,” he tells me. “I would have done this anyway,” he reminds me.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

His lips graze against mine and there’s a heat pooling between my legs. I shift, only to find him already hard and straining in his jeans. “Tell me to stop,” he mouths against me. I don’t. My eyes flutter and I hold on to him tighter. I pick at the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them until my cool hands can press firmly to his hard chest. His muscle seem to tighten when I graze them. Cardan holds my wrist gently this time, guiding it further down to his navel. “Come on princess, tell me this is a bad idea.” I stay silent. Even if it was a bad idea, I won’t let it stop. “Then open your mouth for me.”

My lips part for him and when our tongues meet, Cardan moans softly. He pulls me in closer, nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it until my toes curl. His hand on my thigh slides over my ass and between my legs from behind. His fingers deftly rubbing at the already wet cotton and I gasp out, arching my neck, letting him trace his tongue down my skin. He pulls down a strap of my bra with his free hand, meeting my eyes and keeping my gaze as he lowers his head to kiss the tip of my breast. I inhale when his tongue laves my nipple, drawing it into his mouth. He sucks gently at first, finger rubbing over me just as soft. Then, he tugs my underwear to the side, now parting my pussy just as he begins to suck on me harder.

He makes a noise that vibrates against my skin. I hold his head against me, nearly close to weeping. His teeth graze my skin and I jump, hitting my head against the ceiling of the car. He pulls away from me, his lips obscenely wet and his eyes lidded. He reaches up, rubbing my head before feeling the side of his seat and pulling a lever to slowly recline the seat. “Sorry,” he says and I laugh, despite the ache in my breast and the throb in my pussy. I bite at my lip and undo his belt. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells me and my skin heats up. He pulls the other side of my bra down while I stroke his stiff cock. “Beautiful,” he repeats, I'm dripping between my thighs and his finger rubs me faster.

I go in for another kiss. Not short and sweet like I had been intending. This time Cardan kisses me rough and hard. There’s passion and ache between us. He reaches down to align the head of his cock where it needs to be. He rubs the tip between my slit with one hand, the other moves to come between us, rubbing soft circles into my clit. My knees strain on either side of him, and I let out a whimper when he teases the head shallowly. My hand finds his shoulders, and I cry out when he thrusts upwards, impaling me in one swift movement.

“Cardan!” My head falls forward, into his neck, and I try to muffle the cry into his skin. He gives me little time to adjust before he pulls out and slams back in. My muscles pulse when he pauses again, gripping him in spasms. He groans wrapping his arms around my back, moving me to his pace now, and I try to keep up with his steady pounding, but all I can find the energy to do is lay on top of him and take it as the length of him rubs every tender spot within me. I’m groaning and panting and he’s whispering my name.

“Jude…” my nipples feel so tender, brushing against his chest at every thrust, “God – you take me so good, don’t you?” I feel like I’m being spilt in two and its absolutely delicious. “Does that feel good, princess?”

“Yes,” I say, breathing hard. He thrusts into me harder, and harder and swear he’s rocking the car, but I want more of him, so much more. “Yes – Cardan…” my eyes get glassy, and I shut them tight, pressing my head onto his shoulder.  He slows down and grabs hold of my hair, pulling my head back. The slower he moves the deeper he seems to go; the tip of his dick kissing at my womb. I whimper, fingers flexing against his skin

“Look at me,” he whispers, sweat sheening his body now, slick and warm. His eyes are wild and full of lust and I'm so gone for him, so absolutely gone for this man. “Tell me,” Cardan requests in a slur. “Say it again.”

“It feels… so good,” I manage, “ah… more,” I beg and he’s ramming into me now, so hard and rough and then I say, “faster… please…” and it’s so frantic that I grab on to the headrest, bracing myself so I could take everything he gives me. There’s a tight knot at the pit of my stomach, and my cunt is dripping onto him. My heart hasn’t calmed down since the first gunshot but I find that I don’t mind the intense thumping anymore; it makes me feel so alive instead of being on the verge of death.

“Come for me, baby,” Cardan orders. He fucks me so recklessly, and his shaft rubs against my throbbing clit at every deep stroke. I feel delirious, holding my breath and clenching my stomach.

“Ah,” I cry out, back arching. His hand in my hair loosens to roam down my body. “I…Oh,” I bite at my lips, feeling the start of an orgasm that wouldn’t quite come. “I don’t know if I…” my confession trails off as I fall back with his guidance, careful not to honk the horn. He slows down again, torturing me. His finger finds my hardened clit and I scream when he presses down on it.

“You can,” Cardan lets me know. “You will,” he promises, in a breath. “For me, just for me.” My hands are frantic, unsure of what to hold onto. He pulls them around his neck, bringing me over him again. “I can go as long as it takes, princess,” he says into my ear before he kisses me there, then lower until his teeth latches on to the curve of my neck, all while fucking me hard and deep and so dirty, driving into me with little mercy. I’ve forgotten my name, it must be Princess with how much he says it. But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, just him being inside of me does.

He fucks me endlessly and I bite down on his neck, mirroring him, screaming when I come. It feels so intense, I see stars as I shudder uncontrollably.  Cardan cries out too, slamming into me one last time, his climax mixing with mine and it seems unending when I shudder again, tightening my thighs against his. I gasp again when my stomach clenches, “Cardan,” I whimper, slowly coming down.

Cardans hand brushes down my back, soothing me as we both try to catch our breaths. He gently lifts me up, letting his cock slip from me. Come drips out of me, pouring onto him but he doesn’t care and I don’t think I care either. He smooths my hair back and pulls me in for a kiss, soft and slow this time. He reaches between us, and my body jolts when he pets my pussy, rubbing at the soreness sure to come soon. When we pull away, I ask, “Where did that come from?”

“Long time in the making,” he grins wryly, “you already knew that though.” I roll my eyes but jump at the vibration in his pants. His phone was buzzing. He pauses his hand on me and reaches into his pocket awkwardly. It’s my dad’s name on the screen and my cheek runs from a soft blush to full on crimson. Cardan unlocks it and reads the message. He looks up at me warily. “He’s asking why you left early from the bar.”

“Tell him I went for a ride.” I grin.

Cardan fights a smile, muttering, “trouble,” like a praise as he begins to type.

[likecanyoujustnot]

Jude’s trial, Cardan’s pov

A/n: I’m supposed to be getting ready for my birthday party but I have massive procrastination issues. And this picks off right where the letter ended. Kinda long.

“What do you mean he is dead?”

There were tears in Taryn’s eyes as I paced in front of her.

“He washed up on the beach near our house.” She sniffed. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“When did you notice he was missing?”

I had last seen him two days ago. Entertaining a group of young faeries.

“He didn’t come home after last night and that’s nothing out of the ordinary, you know how he is.”

Yes I did.

“What are you going to do about it?” She looks at me cautiously.

“Hold a trial, I want to find who did this.” I may hate his cheating guts but I wanted to know who in my court thought it was a good idea to kill off my master of revels.

She froze. “Am I a suspect?”

“For now, until we can rule out your innocence.”

She nodded slowly. “What if it was Jude?”

It was my turn to freeze. “What makes you think it was her?”

“She doesn’t like him, and she doesn’t like you much at the moment either, this could be her way of sending a message.”

Not likely. If she wanted to send a message she would’ve crept into my rooms and slit my throat while I slept. This wasn’t her style.

“Trials begin at the beginning of the week, in two days, you are first Taryn.”

She nodded and walked off, a slight tremble in her hands.

Dammit.

Valerian and Locke. Both dead. I didn’t mourn valerian and I doubted I would mourn Locke. They were both awful. But it was now just me and Nicasia. I would probably have to tell her of the murder. She’d probably believe it to be Jude. I don’t know how Taryn could sell out that it might be her twin sister.

I didn’t think it was, but still.

I gave instructions to the guards and Randalin and went back off to my room.

My head was pounding and I wanted nothing more than to just sleep.

I was the king. I could do whatever I wanted.

And so I slept.

The next few days passed without hassle, until the day of the inquest came.

I saw Nicasia first.

She looked awful. Tired and distant. A dress the colours of the sea on her. And next to her stood my mother.

It was night time, the first of the stars visible when a mortal woman walked up to where we stood.

She wore a bronze dress and had a hood pulled over her head.

Taryn looked so much like Jude it hurt. I wonder what would happen if I just left and ran off to the mortal lands to find my wife.

The cold voice of one of my personal guards cut through the chatter. “Taryn Duarte. Wife of Locke. You must stand in the place of petitioners.”

She moved to where she was indicated to stand.

“Taryn?” I asked.

She raises her eyes to me and I am struck by a realisation.

That’s not Taryn.

That’s Jude.

The high queen of faerie.

My wife.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Your majesty.” She said.

“We recognise your grief.” I did my best to keep my voice even. “We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.” Though I supposed I’m her husband.

Jude.

Here.

“Do you really think she’s sad.” Nicasia cut in. I almost roll my eyes. She steps closer to Taryn- no, Jude- and I tense. Nicasia had a tendency to be irrational, had he friend had just been murdered, making her even more unpredictable. “Did you kill Locke yourself? Or did you get your sister to do it for you?”

“Jude is in exile.” Her words are soft, and I yet again marvel at how easily she can lie. “And I’ve never hurt Locke.”

“No?” I interjected. I leant forward on the throne. My tail twitched. She’s lying again. If she is truly Jude, which she is, she has hurt Locke in the past.

“I lov…” Jude stopped. To anyone else it would look like she was grieving, as though the words were too hard to say.

But I knew better. She was having to force herself to say it.

“I loved him.” She lets out a little sob.

“Sometimes I believed you did yes.” I force my tone to be absentminded, as though I didn’t care. I did believe she loved Locke. And I hated her, for loving him and not me, Locke for tricking her, and myself for not being good enough. “But you could be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” I curved my hand and magic shimmered in the air.

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

If she wears no protection, under the glamour, she will be forced to admit her title as well. Jude Duarte Greenbriar, High Queen of Elfhame, wife of Cardan.

And that would cause a huge problem.

“Taryn Duarte.” She curtsied. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.

Liar. She had to be Jude. I smiled. “What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed.” We were instructed together.

“Did you murder Locke?” There is a silence following my words. The folk quiet in apprehension.

“No.” She said, she gave a pointed look to Nicasia. “Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.”

I wanted to laugh at the poeticness of this moment. Either Taryn had killed Locke and didn’t want anyone to know, or Jude killed both of them and was know planning my own demise. That didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

Nicasia turns to me. “We know Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” I wondered how she would react if I told her she had killed him. “If Taryn isn’t the culprit then Jude must be. Queen Orlagh, my mother, swore a truce with you. What possible gain could sue have from the murder of your master of revels? She knew he was your friend- and mine.” Her voice breaks at the end, her grief palpable.

I peer back down at Jude. “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 looks like she wants to punch me. “She had no reason to hate Locke, I don’t think she wished him ill.”

“Is that so?” I knew for a fact she did.

“Perhaps it is only court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister and Locke.” I wanted to snap at my mother for bringing herself into a conversation where she is not needed. “She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.”

I glanced at her.

“Jude never loved Locke.” Her face went a slight pink. “She loved someone else. He’s the one she’d want dead.”

I flinched at both meanings to her words. She wanted me dead, and she loved me.

I wasn’t sure which alarmed me more.

She loved me

Loved.

As in past tense

“Enough.” I said before she could keep talking. “I have heard all I care to on this subject-”

“No!” Nicasia interrupted. Everyone stirred a little. She cut me off. The high king. She seems to realise it as she goes on. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.”

I glared at Nicasia for undermining my authority. I look back to Jude and give her a cruel smile. “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

I could sense Nicasia’s sneer.

Jude stood up taller in a position that reminded me of Oriana. “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.”

I admired the sheer will and determination in her voice.

My smile only grew. This is was chance to get her alone. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

I could barely keep myself from smiling in glee. Jude was back. And she was following me to my rooms. And there I would ask her why she stayed away so long. Why she didn’t come home to me.

She was nervous, she had no clue I knew she wasn’t Taryn. And that scared her. She knew that if I had her undressed I would know her body. Her scars and imperfections.

Never mind I could tell who she was just off of her face.

I passed a hooded servant carrying pale green wine.

There was a cry and a crash behind me and I wip around. Jude is on the floor, the servant with her. Her dress soaked in wine and the shattered glass around them.

Jude helped the servant girl sweep up debris before she says. “Oh no, my lady, your pardon, you ought not lower yourself.”

One of my guards catches her arm. “Come along,” he said as he lifted her to her feet, and we continued walking.

Two servants open the heavy doors to my chambers and I threw myself down in a low couch in the parlour, Jude stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.

My feet rested on the stone table. “Well.” I said, patting the couch beside me, an invitation for her to sit. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“What?” She croaked.

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.”

“Your majesty.” Her said, voice stiff. “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

I raised an eyebrow and my smile deepened. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.” Not in the slightest.

“What are you doing.” She’s desperate now. “What are you playing at?”

She still thought she can convince me she’s Taryn. It was adorable. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked in the brugh.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

I stood, watching her intently. “Come closer.”

She took a step back.

I frowned. “My councillors 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, pervades I must.” She was angry, and rightfully so, looking like she wanted to run me through with a knife. “Tell me it’s not true.” It could not be true, she wouldn’t plot against me, would she? Though if I died, she would be free to rule without me, Madoc whispering in her ear.

“I’m not the betrayer here.”

“Are you angry about-” I stopped, studying her face more carefully. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?” I’d never done anything for her to fear.

“I’m not.” She trembled. “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.”

“Of course it was a trick-” I noted that she was now holding a blade. Sheathed, but it looked deadly.

Suddenly everything shook. An explosion that was close enough to cause us both to stumble. Books fell and crystal orbs rolled onto the floor. I looked at her, surprised, before I realised, she could have done this. My eyes narrowed.

Then there’s the sound of metal striking metal, swords.

“Stay here.” She drew the blade.

No. “Jude, don’t-” I call after her as she slipped out of the room.

Dammit.

I had Jude back, and I would not loose her again. I drew into my power, commanding it to listen, to reshape the burgh. Commanding the doorways to crack and shrink. From the screams of the guards I knew that vines, roots and leaves were clicking them, starting to creep around their necks, strangling them.

They had taken Jude.

And they would not forget it.

[bellarkeex]

Let Someone, Let Me. [Jude x Cardan]

Jude's exhausted from her Queenly duties, Cardan takes care of her

☾ warnings: don’t think there is any, mention of the Undersea, soft Cardan, fluff 

☾ read on ao3: here

☾ wc: 745

Exhaustion had seeped into my bones many hours ago. The last few days had seemed like non-stop revels, living council meetings, and running around so often I'm surprised the soles of my shoes are still intact. In my strained attempt to conjure up any final bit of energy I had left, some may say my behaviour had begun to border on 'unseemly'. More so than usual.

Cardan had also been his usual, oh so helpful, self as he'd decided to fill his days with lounging on his half of the throne and entertaining our subjects. I mean, I suppose he's listened to the occasional request.  

I reach where Fand stands outside our room. I barely manage to greet her before I'm pushing my way into the room, making a beeline for the bed.

I don't register Cardan laying there until he's pulling me into his side, tucking an arm around me to stroke lazy patterns into my back. His tail coming to rest atop my thigh.  

"Well, I've had a very long day of entertaining our lovely folk, what about you my wretched wife?" He sighs with dramatised fatigue into the top of my forehead.  

"Is that why the ongoing revel is missing your wonderful presence?"  

"Would you stab me if I said maybe I've missed you these last couple days?"

"Not right now." I sign into his chest, letting my hand slide under his lowly buttoned shirt. "It seems like a lot of work."  

At that he gives me a small chuckle, before he's sitting up to take my feet into his hands. Fingers carefully untying the laces of the shoes I hadn't managed to take off, then reaching for my stockings to pull them off my aching legs.  

Then he's leaving me. Disappearing into the bathroom. I hear faint water begin to fill the tub and when Cardan returns his clothes have been discarded, moonlight illuminating the skin of his chest.  

Despite my exhaustion, I can't help but notice the skip of my heartbeat at his sudden nudity. But if Cardan notices the flush of my cheeks, he doesn't mention it.

I don't have the energy to resist as he picks me off the bed to haul me into his arms. Not that I would.  

"What are you doing?" I breathe against his neck.  

"Jude." he gently shushes me. "Just let someone take care of you for once. Let me."  

I'm placed before the filled bath, cool stone beneath my feet sending a chill through my spine. Flickering candlelight reflects in the steaming water below me, creating shadowed waves which dance along the bottom of the tub. I push away any thought of the Undersea, forcing myself to breathe deeper, and narrow my focus on Cardans hands skilfully unlacing the back of my dress to help me step out of it.  

"Should I be worried?" I raise my eyebrows in question, gesturing in the direction of the candle. "You seem to have an awful habit of setting your rooms on fire."  

He only smiles and begins to lure me into the tub with a soft hand, guiding me to sit in front of him.

I allow myself to rest against my husband as he holds me to his chest, grounding myself in his presence. I'm thankful for the window that has been cracked open, the occasional breeze reminding me I'm above water. Only then do I let myself become conscious of the warm water that's beginning to sooth my sore skin.  

Neither of us speak for a while, basking in each other's company trying to make up for lost time. Simply breathing in one another. 

Cardan takes his sweet time in gracing his hands over my aching joints, as though he's trying to relieve my body from the tension it holds, before reaching up to gently release my hair from the pins letting it flow over my shoulders. Under his touch I slip deeper into the warmth of his chest, eyes heavy lidded I try to focus on the steady thump of his heart and the light touch of his fingertips.  

I must fail in my attempt to resist sleep because I wake beneath the embroidered covers of our bed, washed, and my hair loosely braided.

It doesn't take long for me to fall back into a peaceful sleep, head leaning against the slow rise and fall of Cardans chest.  

But not before managing to mumble a barely audible, "I've missed you too."

☾ i like the idea that Cardan knows how to braid hair even though no one's ever taught him. i imagine he has it memorised from all the times he’s watched Jude do it, so he tried to recreate it when she was asleep. 

[court-of-forever-undone]

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. 

[xcruelprincessx]

My first Jurdan fic 🥳

(I feel like this a bit out of character for them. Especially Jude, but i liked that little moment in my head anyway)

___

The High Queen of Elfhame is rarely scared. She loves danger, and nothing could stop her. However, everything has its exceptions, and Jude’s was going back to swimming after her time in the Undersea. Every time she tried, the memories would come back to haunt her. But today, she was ready to face her fear and overcome it. After all, she wouldn't be alone. Her husband, Cardan, the High King, was with her, and that made her feel a little more at ease. He had always loved swimming—it was one of his few hobbies.

When he suggested they go for a swim, she refused at first. But after some begging on Cardan's part, she finally agreed.

She let Cardan choose the location, trusting him to find the best swimming spot, and that’s exactly what he did. They found themselves on a beautiful coast off the islands of Elfhame. It was full of green landscapes, magical flowers, and water as clear as crystal.

“How are you feeling?” Cardan asked with concern.

“Terrified,” she admitted. “I feel like I can barely breathe, and not in a good way.”

“We can go back home if you want. I know it was my idea, but you don’t need to do this. I didn’t think anything could scare my knife wife so much.”

Jude let out a small laugh at his words. He always managed to cheer her up with his jokes.

“No. I can do this. I have to. Fear isn’t something that can stop me, and you know that very well. I’m with you, after all, and you’re pretty terrifying,” she said, lightly punching his shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cardan laughed before getting serious again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Jude lied. She wasn’t sure. She was scared. But she was ready to face that fear anyway. “Let’s do this.”

Cardan smiled and took off his shirt, the rest of his clothes following. With a graceful walk, he entered the water and began to swim around.

Jude couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was beautiful. Well, he was always beautiful, but now, under the moonlight, in the crystal-clear water, naked and calm, he looked even more gorgeous. She smiled and started taking off her own clothes, joining him in the water.

She shivered at first when the water touched her body. Memories of the Undersea came flooding back, and she closed her eyes, her breathing becoming heavier. Noticing her reaction, Cardan swam up to her and wrapped his arms around her. His gentle touch made her open her eyes and look into his—those gorgeous black eyes with gold around the pupils. She was surprised at how the eyes that once terrified her now made her feel safer than ever.

“Trust me. I’m here with you and I won’t leave, no matter what,” Cardan said, calming her.

“I know. I’ll be fine,” she tried to smile. With that, she let Cardan lead her further into the water. At first, it was hard for her to stay steady, but with his help, she started to get used to it, even enjoying it. So much so that she decided to tease him a little.

When he was distracted for a moment, she splashed water at him, catching him off guard. His startled reaction made her burst out laughing.

“What was that for?!” he shouted in surprise but laughed along with her.

“I felt playful,” Jude said simply.

“I’ll show you playful,” Cardan quickly swam up behind her, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her neck and cheeks aggressively. She was surprised, but she couldn’t deny she enjoyed it.

She turned to face him and looked into his eyes. “If you do that again, I will—”

“Kill me?” he suggested, raising his black brows.

“No, but I’ll do things that are just as sinful,” she smiled playfully.

“Who said I would mind that?” he smirked, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer.

That was all the invitation Jude needed to kiss him with all the passion she had. He matched her intensity, and their kiss quickly escalated into a full-blown make-out session right there in the ocean.

“I love you so much, Jude,” Cardan whispered between kisses, his tail curling around her leg.

“I’ve never been happier to know you can’t lie,” she smiled at the soft touch of his tail. “And I’ve lied about many things, but this isn’t one of them... I love you too.”

[daphnechantandshant]

jude and cardan both have re-occuring fears that the other will leave them. And the other always know when they feel that way. jude's brow will twitch when she thinks about it throughout the day. cardan will fidget with his hands all day (because he thinks about it all day). They will pull each other aside on days where they notice this, and will just speak to each other softly. They will tell each other they love them. They will hug, and kiss, and touch each other, just to show each other that they love each other. Sometimes these conversations have a good ending. Sometimes they don't, and they need to talk it out at the end of the day. Sometimes these conversations have smiles. Sometimes these conversations have tears. Either way, they will always be there to pull the other into their arms when they're unsure.

[viivdle]

I stand before Cardan, and he looks mortifying in his beauty. He carelessly slumps down on the sofa in his chambers, blissfully unaware of my anxiety. Or, worse, blissfully aware.

“I ought to be mad at you,” he says, and I almost flinch at the sound.

“As I said, I didn’t kill my husband, Your Majesty,” my voice shakes, and I hold onto the hope he will think I am holding back tears.

“Yes, that would be correct. Your husband is sitting in front of you, well and alive. Is he not?”

viivdle productive era??

my ~1900w jurdan fanfic heaven and hell were words to me is out now!!

i tried something different with this one, hopefully it was a good something different

this fic is for @annamatix who i have the pleasure to call my friend. i hope this is just the right amount of "romancy"

happy ramadan<33

[avelanlorelay]

My mind 24 hours a day: Drunken Cardan playing the lute and singing

Also my mind at the first opportunity when I'm writing a fanfic:

Dernière Danse

[ilianapatataa]

Incorrect quotes pt.2

Heather: So Jude, what’s your hobby ?

Jude: murder

Heather: ok…., but what’s something you do for fun?

Jude: murder

Heather: something you do like every day??

Jude: murder

Heather: … something that calms you down when you’re angry???

Jude: murder

Heather: ….

Heather: You know what, I give up !!

(Heather walks away)