Chapter Text
The throne room was empty. Save for the High King himself.
Cardan sits atop the throne, dressed in the remnants of clothes he wore all day; a loose pair of black pants, an untucked white shirt, of which the first few buttons had been loosened, and black, silver tipped boots. A long, black suit coat was thrown on the floor beside the throne, the collar of which was covered in thick, black fur that twinkled like the midnight sky.
Laxed in his posture, he dangles one of his legs over an arm rest. His elbow sits propped up on the other, the butt of his palm holding up his cheek. His crown askew, he stares off into the vast emptiness, bored beyond reason. In his other hand he holds a jeweled, golden goblet, intricately detailed with vines crawling up the neck to the base. A single vine snakes up to the lip of the bowl, blossoming into a golden, thorned rose. He brings the cup to his lips, sipping a dark green liquid. It dribbles from the corner of his mouth, his tongue lashing out to catch the falling droplet. Streaks of gold are slashed across his cheek bones, his eyes winged out with a black, coal like dust. He huffs, puffing the air up in an attempt to push away some black curls that have fallen into his vision.
And then the door swings open.
Jude stands in the doorway, looking furious, steam practically billowing off her. Her hair is mussed, hastily pulled back as if she hadn’t anticipated the need to see anyone at this early twilight hour. She frowns, staring down the length of the room, directly at the king.
Cardan smiles.
“Jude!” Cardan raises his chalice, acknowledging her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of my seneschal joining me? Any new schemes you wish to tell me about?”
She does not answer him. Her heavy steps click loudly in the cavernous room, determination in her eyes. She quickly closes the distance between them, her plain, forest green frock lifting behind her from the speed at which she stomped toward the king.
“Is something wrong?” The High King asks, mocking, slashes of gold on his cheeks glittering in the dim light surrounding the throne. “Though, who can be sure. I think I should be more concerned if I ever saw you happy rather than angry.” He raises the cup to his lips, chuckling to himself as he takes another sip of his drink, clearly proud of his quip.
Jude stops at the base of the stairs leading up to the throne, still silent. Her muscles are tense, brow furrowed, mouth curved downward. Cardan looks down at her, hair still falling messily over his forehead, the corner of his lips curved in a smirk.
“What the hell is this?” Jude says, flashing a piece of paper in his direction. Handwriting is scrawled from top to bottom, rushed, as if in an attempt to rid the mind of its thoughts by scribbling them onto paper. Cardan leans forward slightly, reading the first line at the top of the page.
My dearest, lovely, Jude. I fear I must write these words down, lest I go mad…
Recognition hits him like a slap to the face. Words of affection, yearning.
His own words.
His smirk disappears.
A moment of silence passes between them, Jude holding the piece of paper up in the air, annoyed. She waits for him to say something. When he does not, she shakes the piece of paper, demanding an answer. “Well?!”
Cardan, silent, sets his wine on the armrest of the chair, his jeweled fingers catching the light of the bioluminescent butterflies that constantly encircled the throne. He waves a hand, brows pinning together in agitation. “Leave us,” he says, his voice carrying throughout the throne room to the few servants standing against the walls or in dark corners, on call to deliver more liquor, fruit, or whatever else the king fancied. Their eyes shift among themselves, sharing nervous glances, unsure if they should truly leave, in the chance that he would need them.
“Leave us.” He says, his voice taking on a demanding tone. They knew this would be the final time he would tell them. They scatter like mice, each finding a cleverly masked servant's door to scamper away into.
When Cardan hears the last door shut, he turns his attention back to Jude, who’s glare is unrelenting. The two are alone.
“Is this some kind of sick joke, Cardan?” Jude says his name with contempt, tossing the piece of paper onto the stairs. It floats down, riding the air in long, exaggerated waves. Cardan watches as it falls. When it lands, gently laid across the first step to the dais, he waves a hand dismissively.
“Hardly,” he replies, still lounging lazily in his throne, watching her through long, dark lashes. He taps a manicured finger against his cheek, thoughtful. “I suppose I’ve been found out.”
Jude stands before him with a statue-like solitude. She clenches her fists, staring up into the expanse pools of his eyes. She wasn’t expecting a response from him like that. She was expecting him to speak around it, or respond to her in some kind of a riddle that would keep her guessing as to what these letters were, and why they were left out among the things in his room for any servant to read. The last thing she needed right now was any gossip that could make things in Elfame more difficult. Especially because she had found multiple such letters scattered among his personal things.
How many letters have I written just the same as this one. Before bed, drunk and alone, with only thoughts of her to comfort me… Cardan thought to himself as he watched Jude simmer in front of him. I’m surprised she only just found them, this little spy.
The contents of the letters ranged from confessions of love for her, to confessions of disgust. One moment he was praising her faulted, fickle beauty, and the next he was detailing how much disdain he had for the way he felt.
“What do you mean?” Her question came out harsh, like she was demanding an answer. She knew he couldn’t lie - he was incapable of it. Could fae lie in writing? Was that some kind of a loophole of their kind?
“You’ve read the letters, haven’t you? The way you came storming in here, it certainly seems like you have. You’ve perused their contents, so you’ve found me out. My deepest, darkest secret.” He pauses, his finger now tapping against his bottom lip. “Now the real question is, Jude, what are you going to do about it?”
Jude unballs her fists, instead swinging her arms wildly to the side, exaggerated and exasperated at the audacity he would throw the ball in her court. “What do you mean, what am I going to do about it? This is about your lack of discretion. Especially with everything going on right now… What did you think? I read these letters and decided to come here and confess that I feel the same way about you?”
“Don’t you?”
She stood there, shocked. What was she supposed to say to that? Of course she had thought about him… in that way. More than once. Especially after the kisses they shared… How he told her to kiss him until he was sick of it.
He was the personification of beauty and desire to her. But he was also more than that. He showed her that she was desirable, beyond that of just the capability of lying as a human. He gave her a place; something familiar to come back to. A place where she was wanted. How she desperately wanted his arms to collapse into. A safe place to hide when everywhere else was trapped with dual meaning, trickery, and mockery if she wasn’t guarded enough.
But she felt as if she still needed to be careful around him.
“I don’t,” she said, lying to both herself and him.
“Ahhh…” Cardan replied in a long, drawn out breath. He knew she could lie, and that she did it often. Was it something she often did with him? Was this a lie?
It cannot be… He thought as he stared down at her from his high vantage point, cosmic black eyes locking onto hers. Not with the way she kissed me… Not with everything we’ve shared…
A corner of his lip peaks.
“Then tell me, Jude, with as much honesty as you can bring yourself to use… How did it make you feel to read my very personal and private musings?” He lifts his goblet again, taking a long draught of the spiced drink, draining the cup, the gold rings encircling his irises shining.
Jude did not know how to respond. Should she be honest with him? About how everything she read made her heart jump around her chest and catch in her throat... How she stroked the pages with her thumb in secret, wanting so desperately to keep one on her person at all times to remind herself that what they shared wasn’t just something for either of them to get out of their system. Or should she hide it, like she had been until now? Should she continue to keep Cardan at arm’s length?
“I trust you...” Cardan says after a moment of silence, half of his face still hidden behind the chalice, eyes barely within view over the rim. “...to tell me the truth.”
He trusts me? The word echoes in her mind. She says nothing, stunned. The two had always been at odds, constantly trying to overcome one another in this game that they played. Though they both shared the very important secret of her having control over his actions, they never seemed to get closer because of it. Until now.
“I….” Jude begins, eyes shifting away from him for a brief moment. The way he was looking at her reminded her of the way he looked at her in the garden at Locke’s party. She shook the memory from her mind as best as she could. Now was not the time.
“Did you like what you read?” Cardan asks.
Jude looked back to him. Another moment of silence passes between them.
“Yes.”
“Do you feel the same way about me as I do for you…? In all the ways I wrote in the letters?”
...
“Yes.”
“Even the intimate ways?”
Her skin felt hot, as if all the blood in her body was rushing through her veins, and straight to the surface of her skin, blushing for him to see.
“Why would you ask me that?” Jude starts, her tone annoyed. She steps forward, picking up the piece of paper off the steps to the dais, waving it in front of him again. Cardan sets his chalice down once more, leaning back into his throne as she begins to close the gap between them.
“Stay right there,” the pitch of his voice drops, a growl. He raises a jeweled hand, forbidding her from taking another step forward.
“You can’t make me,” Jude says, anger boiling in her blood, bubbling to the surface of her voice.
“Oh, but I don’t have to, Jude Duarte. For you see, you’re going to do it of your own volition. After all, are you sure you want to come up here?” He asks, voice lowering into a rumbling whisper. “After all of the things that you read?”
Jude stops, one foot up on the last step before reaching the top of the dais. Her throat tightens slightly, remembering what she had read in the letters.
“Listen, Cardan, I--”
“All the words I wished I could say to you… About how I think about you and only you,” he began, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, arching his neck. “You’re in my dreams, my nightmares… You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think of when my consciousness slips into the darkness. When others come to me, whispering sweet words into my ears and pressing their delicate kisses to me, it's you whose lips I wished they belonged to. Your breath on my neck, honeyed words dancing their way into my ears… And when I’m alone at night, thinking of you… Thoughts of you are the only thing that brings my release.. All the things I’ve thought of doing to you… ” He lets out a long, shaky breath as he leans back into his throne once again. Cardan clenches his teeth, tightening his jaw in an attempt to compose himself.
“And now that I know you know, perhaps I won't be able to contain myself. Why hide it any longer? I love you, Jude, more than anyone I’ve ever come to know. And this… lust that I feel for you… Is more powerful than the strongest liquor that’s ever entered my system...”
He cups his face in his hand, looking down his nose at her. He smiles.
“Now then, are you sure you want to approach me?”
Jude stares at him, eyes fixated on his own, feeling as if she is being swallowed whole by their pure darkness.
She ascends the final step, fists clenched at her sides, and stands before him. They were always in a constant battle of who would be more dominant than the other; who would succumb to the other. This was another win for her. He admitted that these feelings he had for her were deep, well beyond anything he had felt before and more grand than just pure physical attraction. She had to maintain the power she had.
He looks up at her, tilting his head slightly at the sheer willpower she showed. He admired her fighting spirit. His lips pulled back, exposing his teeth.
“Would you like to see? The things that I do at night when I think of you?”
Jude stares down at him, her lips downturn, her cheeks flaming.
“Yes.”
He keeps his eyes locked on her, lowering his hands down to unclasp his belt. He removes it from the loops in one, smooth motion, tossing it to the side where it lands with a loud clang. Jude flinches at the sound, her nerves getting the better of her.
He undoes the buttons holding his pants closed, slowly, deliberately. She watches his every move, how carefully and deftly he moves. Cardan can’t help but smile at how focused on him she is. The fly falls open, the head of his cock peeking out, resting against his lower belly.
“Come here, then,” his voice rasps as he extends a hand out to her. “Let me show you.”