Come on Love, Draw Your Swords - Part 3 & 4
For my own sanity I’ve chosen to combine these chapters on here.
Read on Ao3 here. More info and music recommendations can be found in the tags/chapter notes on there.
Part 1, Part 2.
Summary:
Sing to me, Moonlight
For you, dear, are honey-tongued
I dream just for you.
Or: The one where Jude finds out she's pregnant, and Cardan begins collecting a thousand plants.
Word Count: 6,675
Warnings: There is a depiction of a panic attack in this chapter. If you would like to skip it, stop reading at “But I never knew how to love,..." and continue at, "It's ages before she settles..."
Preview: She knows she should be thrilled. She is, deep below the surface. But her anxieties are almost overpowering, now, and she can’t keep shoving them away.
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Awareness comes to her slowly, the pull of sleep is heavy behind her eyes. The sun is just dipping behind the horizon, twilight lingering between the trees. Jude rolls to her back underneath a blanket of fur and her hands go to her belly without thought. She freezes, pangs of anxiety going through her. It always happens this way when she first wakes up; she has a few moments where she doesn’t remember. Of course, it’s hard to forget for long, now.
She started to show—really show—around a fortnight ago. It happened fast, like she could fit into all of her clothes until she woke up one day and couldn’t. That was when they announced her pregnancy.
Naturally, a large feast was held, one that neither she nor Cardan attended, opting to stay with each other in seclusion. It was a nice night.
Soon after she broke the news to Cardan, he got into the habit of pacing, which is still one of the strangest sights Jude has ever seen. It was short-lived, though, because it took him merely a week to fixate upon a new hobby that now takes up much of his free time.
To Jude’s absolute disbelief, Cardan began collecting plants. In the most non-magical, wholly mortal type of way. He disappeared once and came back hours later with an arm full of pots from the mortal world, as well as supplies Jude assumes are used to help them grow. She’s still stumped as to why he started it, but he has been faithful to them, shocking her and those closest to them.
It was ridiculous to her at first, and reminded her of Aleena. Back when she and Vivi first moved in together, their home was suddenly decorated top to bottom with greenery and has been that way ever since. Jude never cared for stuff like that, and she assumed Cardan didn’t either. When he first started, she was sure the plants wouldn’t survive, either because they weren’t meant to grow in Faerie or because Cardan couldn’t possibly keep them alive without magic, but she was very wrong. They’re healthy and decorate their bedroom and the windows throughout their apartments.
She still doesn’t know what happened to them over time, whether he enchanted them in some way or they just adapted, but they became magical, bit by bit, and now they’re lively little things with big tempers. Jude doesn’t question it, only keeps her distance so she doesn’t get poked or snapped at. When she finds Cardan pruning or re-potting them, a look of child-like concentration in his features, she marvels at how calm they are in his presence. The plants like him. She quietly leaves him to his tending whenever his schedule calls for it.
As endearing as his new pastime is, Jude wonders if it has gotten a bit out of hand. Now, as she slips out of bed, hand still on her stomach, and makes her way to the large, polished mirror across the room, she bumps into one of the newest additions to Cardan’s collection. It’s at the foot of their massive bed on top of a small, decorative chest. The plant almost tumbles to the ground, but Jude manages to catch it in time and sit it back upright. It’s a mystery, really, how she never sees him acquire any new ones, but they always appear in different spots.
She really needs to convince Cardan to put them all in an extra room somewhere else in the palace. Or a greenhouse, maybe.
Distraction taken care of, she glances at her husband to make sure he’s still asleep before continuing to her destination.
Mirrors frighten Judeas of late. She’s never been particularly interested in her appearance, per se, but now she tends to avoid them altogether. Her face looks the same as always, save for the rosy flush in her cheeks that seems to accompany her everywhere. Her eyes are tired, but her skin is clear and glowing even in the dim light.
It’s not her face that bothers her, but her body.
There’s no mistaking that she’s pregnant anymore. Her midriff doesn’t merely look like she’s put on weight. It’s obvious that she’s with child. The roundness of her belly turns all eyes to her form when she’s in public. It’s even more attention than she usually receives as Queen.
Cardan’s face brightens every time she’s in his sights, and when they’re alone he can’t keep his hands away from her stomach. Jude tries very hard not to let any of this bother her, but she can’t help it. It’s not that she doesn’t feel some sort of strange excitement deep within her at the thought of carrying and someday meeting her child, but she’s mostly just overrun with terror.
Jude is afraid and she can’t fix it.
The more time passes, the farther along she is, the more she can’t ignore what’s coming: she’s going to be a mother. And she’s scared.
She remembers what it was like to have a mom, misses her terribly, but she feels like after all she’s had to change about herself and adapt to that she’s lost the part of her that would be capable of raising a child in a healthy manner. Day and night, she’s plagued with visions of holding her baby and feeling nothing but cruel numbness. Or her child coming to her with some trivial problem, and Jude losing her temper. Compartmentalizing too much; dealing with them in the detached way she does everything else; neglecting them; not being able to show them the affection they need.
The list goes on. Jude’s anxiety grows. It always does in these private moments.
She loses track of the time she stands there, fingers caressing her stomach, but Cardan begins to stir at some point and she snaps out of her trance.
She says nothing of her fears and plants a small smile on her face. It’s not disingenuous, but it isn’t not a mask, either.
-------
She’s sitting on her throne when one of her personal guards approaches her. Cardan is late, probably off with his plants. Jude still doesn’t know what to make of that, but she’s grown used to his occasional disappearances at this point. She expects the message the guard gives her to be from him, not a request for an in-person and private meeting with her from Taryn.
The first thing she does is sigh. She’s allowed that much. Taryn, though Jude didn’t know it back when everything happened, could be as conniving as Jude is. Not as bold as Jude, never that, but cunning in her own way.
Jude almost tells the guard, Astor, to deny her. Instead, she agrees.
“The guest chambers in the Western hall, thirty minutes,” she commands quietly. Astor nods, disappearing into a hallway to her left. Jude folds her hands in her lap, trying to come up with what to say as to not start a fight or insult her sister. She barely sees her, now, and each time she does, Jude thinks that they look less and less alike. Or, maybe that’s just what she likes to tell herself.
Thirty minutes gives her enough time to make the decision to put on a more fanciful gown or dress down a bit. She does neither, opting to stay in her velvet dress the color of midnight blue. Gold beading is laid throughout it making it look like a shifting night sky from a distance. Jude likes this one. It pairs well with her crown.
She arrives at the last minute announced by the knights stationed at the door to the guest rooms. Jude strides in with her head held high. She always does. Taryn is already seated at the small, ornately carved table. A mountain of fruits and pastries stacked onto a three-tiered platter sits in front of her. She bows her head to Jude, not quite the standard that is to be expected for the High Queen, but both of them are under no illusions that Taryn cares much about showing respect to her.
The fireplace flickers, casting a lively glow into the room. Lanterns hang from the ceiling. The moonlight spilling in from the windows seems to bend and follow Jude’s form as she makes her way over to the table.
“Taryn,” Jude greets, voice neutral, and she sits.
“Jude,” she says back.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in some time.” Really, how long has it been since they’ve spoken like this? Two years? It seems like a lifetime.
“Yes, well, you do seem busy.” Taryn smiles sweetly. Jude says nothing.
Straight to thinly-veiled hostilities, then.
It’s been like this for years. They could never make up after everything. Jude is horribly stubborn, but so is her sister. They are twins, after all.
Silence fills the air. Jude refuses to fill it until Taryn does. She is not the one who summoned her sister here; she will wait. Eventually, Taryn’s carefully masked features soften slightly.
“How… is the pregnancy?” She asks. Jude’s defenses go up, she can’t help it.
“It’s fine. All going smoothly.”
More silence.
“How far along are you?”
“Eighteen weeks,” Jude says. Taryn looks at her. Really, really looks at her.
“I still have trouble believing it. I never thought you were one for children,” she says.
“Neither did I.”
Taryn lets out a hollow laugh. “It’s almost comical,” she says, sarcasm in her tone, “You never asked for any of this, yet you have it all.” She stares at Jude, jealousy rippling clearly across her face. “I wanted a place here in this world and I did what I had to do to get it. And I’ve always wanted children; a family, but no matter how much I plead, I can’t have it.”
Jude knows this. She knows Taryn wants children, but Locke doesn’t. Even if they fit together, Locke with his horrible schemes and Taryn with her love for watching them play out, they’re not very compatible in the ways that matter to Taryn. Eventually, she’ll get what she wants one way or another. Jude suspects it’ll be soon.
“Yet you got it all without trying, without wanting. It just fell into your lap,” Taryn grits out.
Jude is stunned. Taryn is never so plain with her; never so aggressive.
In the most indifferent manner she can muster, Jude says, “I beg your pardon?”
And Taryn lets loose. “I fought so hard to be where I am. I only ever wanted a place among the Court. I kept to myself, I never got in trouble, I found Locke, and you… You loved stirring it all, loved blowing it up in our faces, and you still ended up with everything, didn’t you? The most beautiful lover, a prince at that; the crown; the child.”
Jude takes it all in, and at first she’s furious. Taryn was always supposed to be the wiser of the two, and Jude is shocked at how twisted her point of view is from all of these years of tense silences and no communication. Back then, it was different. It was treachery and secrets, but that’s because it had to be, and Taryn had made her choice of which side of Jude’s she wanted to be on. Now, however… Jude is astounded as to how her sister came to that conclusion when she knew how much Jude wanted a place in the Court all those years ago, she knew Jude was lost and spiraling.
“You know nothing of my life, do you?” Jude asks calmly. And really, she is calm somehow. All traces of her anger have vanished, leaving only cool disbelief and an inkling of pity. “Nothing of it from the moment they pushed us into the river with the nixies… Or was it the mock war and tournament?”
“I know you were a spy for Prince Dain,” Taryn says, and there is a sweet distaste to her words.
“That’s right, I was I spy.”
“And you seduced Cardan.”
Jude barks a hideous laugh. Taryn glares at her, cheeks flushing.
“If I seduced Cardan, it wasn’t on purpose. How was I supposed to know he liked me threatening him? It was all with honest intentions of defiance, not seduction.”
Taryn looks puzzled and slightly scandalized. Perhaps it was the implications. Jude leans forward and says, “I didn’t seduce him. I never even liked him. We hated each other.”
“But the night of his crowning, you planned–”
“Yes, I did. I had a plan, one that I devised with my spy friends in our spy lair where I tied Cardan to a chair and pushed a knife against his throat.”
Taryn crosses her arms. This all seems like brand new information to her, and Jude is confused. She thought maybe that Madoc had told her more of Jude’s relationship with Cardan, or Locke knew some of the story, or… something.
“You really don’t know?” Jude asks. Taryn doesn’t reply, she just looks lost, even a little nervous. Jude is struck with a sudden sadness. She does not feel regret, no, because Taryn did things that were entirely her own fault, not Jude’s. But it is a deep hurt for the forfeited time between them.
There was a point where Taryn was her mirror, her best friend, her biggest confidant. The game of princes and crowns broke them apart. Jude can understand her sister’s motives back then. It’s much clearer now than it was.
So Jude decides now. She decides to try despite everything, despite the years of silence and awkwardness and her sister kneeling at her feet at the occasional revel. Jude will give it a chance. Her will has always been strong, but seven years is a long time to hold a grudge. Jude has forgiven betrayal before. She can do it again.
So she takes a deep breath and starts with, “Cardan had… some sort of feelings for me. I didn’t know. My honest thoughts of him were that it’d be better if he were dead and gone from my life. He was the bane of my existence.” It seems so funny now. Her hand goes to her stomach. Taryn looks bewildered at the fact that she’s even speaking.
Keep going, she tells herself. And she does.
Jude tells her sister of Prince Dain and his offer, his geas and the rules, her weeks of training and missions. She tells her of Valerian and his threats, his attempt at murdering her.
“I think I knew that part,” Taryn interrupts her, shoulders slowly relaxing then tensing again as if realizing what her words meant. Jude lets it go, trying not to dwell on them.
She recounts her side of the massacre, the Greenbriars falling one at a time, how terrifying it was for her future. She tells her of finding Cardan under the tables, escaping together, and taking him to the Court of Shadows.
Jude acknowledges that she’s never told this to anyone. None of it, really, except some bits and pieces to Vivi. If anyone knew, they didn’t know it from her. It’s exhausting to be so open with someone, especially when trust is so scarce.
She hesitates before the next part of her story, but trudges on.
“I knew I had to come up with something. I had the most valuable thing in Faerie right in my grasp. He just happened to be horrible. That was the night I found out how he… felt.” Jude looks up from the spot on the table she has been staring at and fixes her eyes on the wall behind Taryn. She remembers the moment vividly, especially the kiss. “I never seduced him. I was never his creature. I tricked him. I tricked him into becoming king,” she says. She isn’t guilty, but she isn’t proud of herself.
“How?” Taryn asks. After a moment, Jude tells her.
“I persuaded him into swearing himself into my service for a year and a day and lied that I would let him have a life free of the Court,” she says simply, gaze shifting to her sister.
“He never wanted the Blood Crown.” A look of soft understanding spreads on Taryn’s face.
“No, he did not.” Jude says. There’s a moment where she breathes deeply, pressing one of her hands into her belly over an ache. Taryn’s eyes follow the movement. “The night he was crowned was the night I became the Shadow Queen.”
“The role of seneschal was a ruse, then.”
“Partially,” Jude admits. “I still performed those duties occasionally.”
“Any other duties?” It’s harmless, not even quite teasing, but Jude reacts anyway.
“I told you I was not his creature,” she says snappishly. Taryn raises her eyebrows. Her poster stays straight and stiff, a sharp difference from Jude, who leans over the table, fingers drawing swirls into the surface.
“But the clothes… The way you both acted around each other.”
Jude huffs. “Cardan is dramatic. We were fools.”
The silence returns, but it isn’t uncomfortable; only weighty. Jude waits, hoping Taryn will offer her something else.
“Then when did it happen?” Taryn sounds unsure of her question, but it’s the first time she’s spoken that reminds Jude of how they used to be. It’s curious and open. It sounds like it’s meant to be asked between sisters. Jude is not the High Queen in this moment. She hasn’t been since she started her tale.
“Us?” Jude asks. Taryn nods.
“Somewhere along the way,” Jude says, recalling the exact moment they snapped, pressing up against each other, breathing into each other’s mouths. Taryn watches her, a small smile on her lips. Jude hopes she isn’t projecting.
“Before or after the Undersea?”
Jude succeeds in holding back a flinch at the mention of it, her mind flashing to what she did down there to survive. That, she won’t tell her sister. That is for her and Cardan.
“Before,” Jude says, “But he asked me to marry him after.”
“So that was true? I didn’t know if you returned and were married or did it privately before your… time away.”
“My exile, you mean. Yes, I was the Queen before. I wasn’t lying when I was embarrassed in front of the entire Court. It happened the night before, right after I murdered Balekin.”
Taryn’s eyes are comically wide. Jude laughs.
“It sounds so dramatic when I put it like that.”
And Taryn laughs too. “It’s dramatic put in any way.”
They giggle together like they used to when they were younger. Jude’s heart feels light. Just for a moment their past is behind them both. When they stop, there is silence. Taryn stares while Jude continues her patterns on the table.
“I missed you,” whispers Taryn.
And it’s not as hard as Jude thought it would be to say, “I missed you too.���
It doesn’t fix everything; it doesn’t erase the last years and bad faith and hard feelings. But it’s a start.
Jude finishes the rest of what she feels is necessary to be told now that she’s gotten this far. Taryn tells her bits of her own life and the moments she’s been happy, along with the moments she hasn’t. It isn’t fully comfortable, nor easy, but Jude is glad. And if she has a moment where she wonders what her sister’s motives are, Jude tries to think of other things and let herself enjoy her time.
And she does. She really does.
When Taryn leaves, Jude reaches to squeeze her hand within hers.
----
The sound of strings carries throughout the hall. Leaves sprout on the ceiling and fall, raining softly on the crowd. The Folk dance and writhe and drink before two thrones. The smell of faerie fruits and spiced wine curls in the air, enticing.
The ball is a magnificent one, Jude can admit. She’s wearing a new gown just for the occasion, many layers soft lavender fabric with white smoke patterns, hugging her just so to accentuate her features but hide her stomach a bit. Even Jude thought she looked lovely in it; healthy and youthful. Her belly looks less shockingly round hidden beneath the waves spilling from beneath her breasts. Her shoulders are bare and her sleeves graze the floor.
Cardan looks obscene in his pitch black silk clothes, shiny chains made of small gems swooping around his shoulders, white cape contrasting beautifully. His collar reaches up his throat like a shadow, his jawline and cheeks contoured with a smokey silver. The kohl around his eyes looks iridescent at some angles.
After so many years, Jude thought she couldn’t blush at something as simple as his appearance, but she was very wrong.
Indeed, all eyes were on them when they entered through heavy double doors earlier that night, sometime after the festivities had started. Jude had not been out publicly for weeks at that point, so when the whispers started up as the Court caught sight of her, she was ready for them. She was very obviously nearing her due date. Cardan, unfazed as always, prowls his way to their matching thrones atop the dais, Jude’s arm hooked gently in his.
This is where she finds herself, feet tucked beneath her, Cardan beside her, the ball in full swing around them. At some point he leaves her to speak with who she remembers to be a high ranking war master from far off. The crowd swirls around him, simultaneously avoiding him but inevitably drawn in as well. That’s exactly what it’s like to be near Cardan; he’s like gravity, unfathomable and too beautiful to touch.
Jude touches, of course.
Looking at him now, he chuckles at something, a genuine smirk on his face as he sips his wine. Something changed over the years, perhaps it was simply the passing of time, but he’s become much more open and inviting during these public events. The aura of authority is there, and he still acts the same as he did years ago, but the difference is in his stance and the way he looks at who he’s talking to. His shoulders are relaxed and pulled back, he leans forward ever so slightly.
It’s nice, Jude thinks. She likes seeing him work, watching him, because he is hers to study.
She remembers when he first became High King, how he would lounge on his throne without a care, drowning in wine. She loved him then. She loves him more now.
Jude shifts under the gazes of the Folk, becoming increasingly unsettled. She knows she looks big, but up on her throne in front of so many people and with Cardan somewhere in the crowd, she feels like a mouse in a sea of wild, hungry cats. Sweat gathers on her brow. She places a hand on her midriff.
It’s mere seconds later that she feels a dull twitch beneath her ribs, causing her to gasp lightly. Her pulse quickens, heart fluttering as she moves her hand to press down on the spot. Nothing meets her touch, for a moment, then it feels as if her entire stomach tumbles briefly. Her gasp is much louder this time, both hands cradling her belly.
She startles at the sight of Cardan kneeling before her. She could have sworn he was just–
“Are you alright?” His voice is rushed and quiet, one hand covering hers where is lies on her middle. Jude sees there are many stares pointed at them, and realizes she must have caused a small commotion.
“I’m fine,” she says, and makes to stand, swinging her tingly legs out from beneath her. Cardan tenderly takes her hands to help her up. “It’s okay, just movements.”
His eyes brighten at this, a small, private grin on his face when he looks at her belly.
“I’m going to retire for the night,” she continues, glancing from the crowd and back to her husband, anxiety coming up her chest and into her throat. She tries to swallow it down and put on a neutral face. Cardan looks as if he is about to say he’ll accompany her, but she shuts him down before he starts. “Don’t worry about it. You stay here. I’m going to take a bath.”
His squeezes her hands just so, the gesture barely there but warming her heart just the same, then he flicks his wrist in the air and a group of his personal guards appear behind him. She loves it when he does that, it never works so smoothly for her.
He presses a kiss to her cheek, one that has her eyes fluttering closed, and he murmurs, “I’ll come find you when the night is over.” Jude nods, a smile tugging at her lips despite the nerves, and she makes her way off the dais, a crowd of armed guards surrounding her and parting the swarm of bodies.
She keeps her composure until she’s alone, the doors to their chambers sliding shut behind her. She rips her crown off and sets it on her desk in the main room, and begins shedding the pieces of her attire. She reaches for a knot of fabric on her side, but it’s in a weird spot she can’t reach across her stomach, and she needs both hands to undo it so that her gown can loosen where it’s cinched at her ribs and can fall right off. She huffs, tearing out her earrings instead and ripping the braids out of her hair. Again, in her and Cardan’s bedroom this time, she tries for the knot, but it won’t budge without any help, and suddenly she’s so worked up and frustrated that she feels tears forming.
Stupid. Crying like a child.
She decides to lift the dress off of her instead, but the damned thing is too heavy, and her stomach keeps getting in the way and her skin is pulling and she feels too large to even breathe.
The first sob comes quickly. Jude drops the fabric, face crumpling. Then she’s sitting on the end of her bed, her dress swamping her form and piling around her. It just makes her feel worse. She cries so easily now and it’s infuriating, she hates it so much that it only makes her tears come faster. She doesn’t have the control that she desperately needs, everything is spiraling, she’s going to have this baby soon and she’s so afraid she won’t be good enough.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
Her breath comes in short bursts. She’s lived most of her life dealing with things like they’re a job or a plan, but this… This is something she doesn’t know what to do with. Putting off the thought of it being real worked for the first few months, but now the day is getting closer and closer, and she’s going to be a mother.
I can’t do this. I can’t be what they need me to be.
Another sob breaks free, and she buries her face in her hands, willing herself to calm down.
She thinks of her mother’s voice, and tries all the breathing exercises she knows of. After a long moment, she shuts her mind off enough that they work.
She’s still sniffling when she feels another flutter in her belly. By this point, she’s so tired she could fall asleep where she sits, so she doesn’t mind the feeling. The whiplash of her emotional state is jarring, but she doesn’t want to think about it, or anything, at the moment, so she unclasps a heavily jeweled necklace from her throat, kicks off her leather slippers, and lies down on her side right where she is at the edge of the bed. She falls asleep as soon as she gathers the fabric of her gown in her arms and squeezes, tension sliding out of her body and sleep taking over.
When Cardan finds her like that a bit later, his eyes soften. Jude barely wakes up as he unties the knot at her side and gently maneuvers her around, slipping her arms from her sleeves and working the heavy gown off her body leisurely. She doesn’t stir when he lifts her farther up the bed and covers her with the fur blankets she likes. And when he kisses her forehead, his palm splayed on her side, fingers dancing over the soft skin where her stomach meets her ribs, she sleeps through it all.
-------
Twinkling water rushes over smooth stones, the sight lulling Jude into a trance. She sits on a stone pew by a small pond with multiple swirling pools, the smell of wet grass filling her senses. It’s high noon, but the sun seems soft behind the clouds. Many Folk are asleep, but Jude is too nervous to attempt to settle her mind.
The midwives came to see her before the moon set. They say she has six weeks left. As soon as they were out of sight, Jude left her chambers and Cardan behind and escaped to her private garden.
She knows she should be thrilled, she is, deep below the surface. But her anxieties are almost overpowering, now, and she can’t keep shoving them away. There’s no time left, the days are ticking by quickly. She’s run out of things to distract herself with. All there is is her swollen belly and her headaches that never leave. Her thighs tingle and she can’t even put on her own shoes. If not for the team of human girls—willing, of course, and happy to help—that help her dress throughout the day and for different events, she would be barefoot constantly.
Jude never developed much of a liking for idle chatting, but she participates even less than she ever has, too caught up in her thoughts and the fatigue that follows her every step. She gets dizzy when she stands, now. It all makes her feel weak, and she hates it. It’s not entirely bad, though. The few moments she’s able to push her nerves away, she truly is excited to meet the child she has been carrying. There have been times that she’s almost gone to the mortal world to set up an appointment and figure out the sex of the baby.
She never does. She likes it this way. And, maybe, she thinks it would become too real if she knew. Denial has her closest companion these last months.
Cardan is visibly ecstatic. Jude never thought she would see him this way. Her heart does flips when he kneels next to her before bed, splaying his hands across where their baby sits. He presses kisses to her temples and cheeks at random, fingers gliding along her neck. When she bathes, he sits behind her, nose pressed into her neck, thumbs digging into the aches she has in her lower back.
He’s doting on her like never before, and truthfully, Jude would find it annoying if he wasn’t so unbearably charming.
Though it’s unconventional for a High King of Elfhame to share his apartments with his newborn child, they’ve both turned one of their rooms into a nursery. Besides, Cardan and Jude aren’t like normal rulers, anyway. Obviously.
Cardan seems overjoyed about it, and even takes a few of his smaller, gentler plants from his greenhouse—because, yes, he did move those disastrous things eventually—and places them along the large window in the room. Faintly sweet-smelling flowers sway from vines on the ceiling, and the walls are enchanted to seem soft and bright. The atmosphere is warm, like a blanket. Jude’s heart aches when she enters it, so she stays away more often than not.
She spends a lot more of her time in her garden the closer it gets to the due date.
Cardan leaves her alone there most of the time. That’s why she’s here now, he had seen the panic written across her features when talking to the midwives and she knew he would ask about it. He’s tried to get her to open up lately, but she brushes him off, not wanting to ruin his joy.
It only makes her feel more alone. The dynamic is strange. All of Elfhame seems excited for the birth of their child, mostly because that means lots of festivities, but Jude doesn’t know how to handle what her life is about to become.
Butterflies erupt in her stomach, nerves panging beneath her skin, and Jude wants to cry thinking about Cardan’s face when she stormed out of their room—as stormy as she could manage with a waddle in her step—before dawn. She’s nearing her breaking point. It’s not that she’s unraveling, anymore, like a complicated knot being pulled at. No, she’s completely loose.
She pushes herself up from the stone bench, back cracking, feet hurting.
Why couldn’t I have an easy fucking pregnancy? Or is this an easy pregnancy?
She huffs and walks back into the palace, personal knights flanking her movements. Jude wants someone, anyone, to understand what’s going on in her head.
When she comes upon her chambers, she waves her attendants off when they try to open the doors for her, not once, but twice. She needs to do something by herself. Pushing the doors open does strain her, but she feels better when she steps in and they close behind her.
She makes her way into her bedroom, expecting to sleep the rest of the daylight away, but when she enters, Cardan is sitting upright at the edge of the bed. The sheets are strewn haphazardly around, his tail is swaying in the air, gold cuffs and jewelry dangling from it. If she listened closely enough, she knows she would be able to hear the small tinkling sounds coming from the metal. Her heartbeat quickens. He’s staring at her, hands clasped in his lap, the Blood Crown lying beside him.
“I’ve grown tired of listening to you lie to me, Jude dearest,” he says, exhaustion in his voice and no malice to his words. Jude swallows thickly. “Will you be candid with me? Please?”
She frowns. She doesn’t want to do this.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, holding his gaze. The sigh he gives is dramatic.
“We will discuss this, I won’t leave you alone with whatever is tormenting you any longer.”
Jude flinches, though she tries not to.
“You see?” He says, gesturing to her, “It’s in everything you do. I’ve been going mad trying to give you space, waiting for you to come to me.” He stands, now, hand wiping across his forehead. “I can’t keep going like this, I want to help.”
And, really, with how fragile she feels, Jude’s not surprised that her resolve crumbles immediately when she sees for the first time how this has been affecting him too.
Silence hangs between them for some time, the sound of their breathing fills the air.
“I’m scared,” she says.
He just looks at her, worry in his eyes.
“I know.”
Something flares in Jude’s chest, emotion choking her. She feels like she wants to scream, like she wants to burst out of her own skin, and it’s so sudden that her carefully placed mask falls from her features, desperation and anxiety showing through. Cardan takes a step toward her, but she backs up two.
“Jude.” And it’s soft, laced with pain, like a question.
“No,” she says, voice watery. “I’m not just scared, I’m terrified.” She stares into him, willing him to understand all that she means in that one word. When she sees that he doesn’t, the words that follow build up on her tongue like her muddled thoughts have since the day she first took those tests in the mortal world.
“I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I’m– I’m– I can’t do this! I can’t. I don’t even know how to handle myself, or even what to do when we argue. How am I supposed to handle another living thing, with a mind and a heart and–” she sucks in a breath, tears forming.
“You have me,” he says, brows furrowed. “We’ll do it together.”
“But I never knew how to love,” Jude says, voice frantic, “After Madoc took us––stole us away, I just… Shut it all out. I never wanted children because I know I’m not capable, I didn’t even know I could, I could–” and she can’t breathe.
She can’t breathe.
And she can hear her heart pounding in her ears. She turns away from Cardan only to catch her reflection in the mirror on the wall near her and all she sees is her stomach and she needs to sit down immediately or she knows she’ll fall over.
“I– I can’t–” and she sobs, collapsing to her knees, hand grasping at the small writing desk beside her, sitting back on her feet. Cardan is on the ground before her in the time it takes her to blink. He’s right there, hands cradling her face, thumbs stroking in soothing motions. He looks panicked, and Jude feels all the worse for it. He’s saying something to her, but Jude can’t understand what. She just cries and cries.
In time, Cardan gives up on calming her down. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his lap, holding her tightly and gently rocking back and forth. When one of his hands wraps around the back of her neck, she fists her hands in his loose shirt, trying to bury herself within his embrace.
It’s ages before she settles, first by regaining control of her breathing, then by ceasing her sobs. Silent tears flow, breath hitching in her chest like a stutter. Eventually, she only sniffles, exhaustion pulling at her eyelids.
And for some time, all is still, a hush over the room. Jude doesn’t even realize that she’s falling asleep.
When she opens her eyes, she blinks blearily, and it takes her a minute to adjust.The sun has set outside of the windows. Moonbeams caress the stone floors, bright enough that even she can see clearly. Her head is cradled beneath Cardan’s chin. They’re against the arched doorway to their bedroom, Cardan leaning against the frame. Her heart aches when she realizes he’s probably been sitting like this for hours and he hasn’t moved so as to not disturb her.
His tail is curled underneath her belly. Jude’s hair is out of it’s updo. She can feel Cardan’s fingers tracing the shape of her ear. The rise and fall of his chest almost soothes her back to sleep.
“Do you not know that I doubt myself as much as you?” His voice is not angry, nor accusing, just resigned. “Have you not considered?”
Truthfully, Jude hasn’t. Shame twists in her gut. Cardan continues.
“I knew nothing of love as a child. Only loneliness. Desperation–” Cardan takes a long breath. Jude hears his heartbeat beneath her ear, tracks of tears dry on her face. “Despair of the deepest incarnation. The type of sorrow that one would hide behind rancid grins and hollow laughs. That is all I knew,” he says, a shakiness to his voice. He pushes his nose into her hair and tightens his arms around her.
“Now, each time I wake up, I am haunted by the thought that I will become my father, or Balekin, to our child.”
Jude feels more tears fall at his words. An ache spreads through her chest. She grieves for him, for herself, too, for how life was cruel to both of them.
“We will do this together,” he murmurs, quiet, but every bit determined. “We can do it. You can. I’ll be with you, always. I’ll be there for our child, always.”
And Jude relaxes into him. He slips his arms underneath her and lifts her as he stands, walking them over to the bed. There, they fall asleep, wrapped around each other, limbs tangled, breathing in tandem.
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