#jurdan fanfic

[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

[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)

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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.

[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. 

[judeandcardan]

Lured (Part-1)

He hated her defiant wicked mouth even worse, which was always ready to spew insults at him. And in the deepest, darkest, most secretive cranny of his brain, he thought of bringing his own cruel mouth against hers, her soft pink lips against his own, to shut her up once and for all.

Read it on ao3

Cardan stared long and hard at the textbooks sprawled in front of him. He sighed — rather dramatically — and picked one of them, flipping it open to reveal a bunch of scribblings about the constellations and their meanings. He threw it away in sour distaste. He hated learning about things as impractical as constellations. He scoured the other books, none it seemed took his fancy any more than the first one. He huffed. Why did he have to learn about all these measly things? Shouldn’t being royal pardon him from his useless studies? He thought bitterly.

He thought of his lectures, of Valerian, Nicasia, and Locke. His mind on its own accord, unbidden, went to the mortal sisters. Even thinking the word “mortal” left a bitter taste in his mouth. He shook his head, determined not to sully his day with even the mere thought of the Duarte sisters.

He abruptly stood up from his tall elegant wooden chair, stalking off to the low bookshelf kept just beside his bed, to procure his copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass bound in one pretty green leather hardcover with intricate gold lettering made on it, stating its title. He sat back on his table keeping the book that Vivienne had lent to him months ago on the side of the table. Ever since then he had read it as many times as he could and naught a reading went by where his treacherous mind didn’t stray to Jude, Vivi’s very much mortal half-sister.

He hated Jude. He hated her. He hated her dull brown locks of hair. He hated her light-brown eyes — which he never got to look into closely enough to determine the exact color of them — that always gleamed with hatred at him. He hated the swell of her breasts and the sway of her hips. He hated the sound of her name and how it rolled off his tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, like poison. He hated even the shape of her name, the loop of the letter ‘J’ in it. He hated her mere existence, that sometimes when she was near, he thought he might just combust into flames. He hated her defiant wicked mouth even worse, which was always ready to spew insults at him. And in the deepest, darkest, most secretive cranny of his brain, he thought of bringing his own cruel mouth against hers, her soft pink lips against his own, to shut her up once and for all.

Distinctly he heard a satisfying snap of something brittle nearby, he looked down and clutched between his fingers was a quill. Well, a broken quill now. Beneath it was a sheet of yellow parchment with the name “Jude” written repeatedly on it over and over again until the whole parchment was full of it and ink stains. Cardan brought the yellow parchment delicately closer to him to inspect it with sharp scrutiny. In some places, he had pressed the nib so forcefully that the paper had torn. Rage, shame, and worst of all, desire flared up in his stomach engulfing him whole. He quickly folded the parchments and stuffed it in between the pages of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass repressing any feelings he felt in the past minute beneath the surface.

He then slowly, languidly, strolled towards his bed, seemingly without any care of the world. He then carefully laid down on it, smoothing out its crumpled satin sheets, he made sure to think of anything but Jude. He thought of the wide expanse of the midnight black night sky outdoors with millions of glittering stars adorning it like diamonds. He thought of the evergreen trees with their deep gold everapples and their sweet, intoxicating taste. He thought of the turquoise ocean, the one where Nicasia’s mother — the Queen of the Undersea — lived, the one where he visited with her when he was in — or at least what he thought he was in — love with her. He then thought of the cold breeze swaying his soft white linen shirt as he drank his red wine peacefully sitting on fresh earthy soil, flipping the pages of a book. He thought of—

Just then there was a sharp knock at his door, breaking Cardan out of his — Jude free — thought train. Cardan grumbled under his breath, clearly annoyed with the interruption.

“Yes?” He called out with his head resting comfortably on his soft pillow. Yet, there was no reply but more insistent knocking.

“Who is it?” Cardan asked again. This time the knocking stopped and instead the elegant gold doorknob in the shape of a gargoyle twisted ever so slowly as if urging Cardan to stop it, but he remained silent unable to say or do anything, as the door eventually flew open.

In front of him — or well rather the door — stood an elegant young lady togged up in a beautiful ombré ball gown, its color deepening from white near her throat, through the palest blue to the deepest indigo at her feet. Over that was stitched the stark outlines of trees, just the way Cardan saw them from his window as dusk fell. Over them, little crystal beads were sewn to represent stars. The lady’s face — or well half of it — was covered by a pale blue mask encrusted with diamonds.

She looked at him with fierce eyes, a fire in them so similar to Jude, he thought with a surprised blink. Her eyes which were the lightest shade of honey brown he had ever seen, looked at him from under her long thick brown lashes behind her mask. Her lustrous brown hair fell in cascading waves down her back. Her breathing was hard almost as if she had been doing some kind of physical exertion before coming here, unannounced, in Cardan’s chambers. The rise and fall of her chest accentuated her generous breasts, clad in the tight material of her gown.

Catching Cardan starting at her breasts, the woman smirked wickedly. Her lips were painted the deepest shade of coral. Cardan gulped. A strange mixture of desire and dread pooling in his stomach.

“Who are you?” Cardan asked, his voice breaking at the end as the woman took a step forward towards him. The woman didn’t reply.

“What do you want?” He asked breathlessly, not expecting a reply and indeed there was none. The woman merely tilted her head, as if curious to what he was going to say or do next. He didn’t do either of those things but simply stared at her, in awe of her beauty. The woman seemingly bored with him proceeded to move across the room, her skirt trailing after her. She stopped near Cardan’s table. Slowly, carefully, she picked up his Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass hardcover book kept on his table. She examined it closely, bringing it closer to her eyes, her expression remaining hidden beneath her mask. Then, she precariously kept the book back in its place and turned towards him to access him, just like a wilder fair folk might assess their prey. Her cold gaze swept over him, making Cardan shudder from the sheer intensity of it.

She stepped towards him, it took Cardan everything in him not to shrink back from her. Suddenly, she was by his side, sitting on the edge of his bed. She held up a hand and Cardan watched, awestruck, as she brushed back a stray strand of hair falling on his face.

“I—” Cardan began, his breathing shallow but the mysterious lady having none of that, held up a long slender finger over her own plump lips, shushing him, making him gulp. She smiled a wicked smile at seeing his reaction, showing off her perfect white teeth. She then slowly but surely brought her perfect coral lips to his unworthy mouth.

Cardan became as still as a marble statue. Her mouth was surprisingly soft against his. But after what seemed like too soon she broke off from him. She stared at him, her face as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. Cardan daringly brought his shaking hand to her neck, beckoning her forward for another kiss. He was like a fairie starved for another sip of his favorite wine, begging for it. Fortunately, the woman, sitting beside him, was more than happy to serve it to him, if her smile, slow and sensual, was any indication at all.

Encouraged, Cardan brought her face closer to his by the hand still kept on her neck. Stopping, just as they were close enough for a kiss. He stared into her eyes, which seemed to hold all the answers, and promises, of the universe within them. Such a deep shade of honey was in them that Cardan was reminded of Jude as she spread honey over her bread, sitting on the white blanket with the stupid red stripes over it which she brought with her at every one of her lectures to sit on, laughing at some silly joke with her twin. Appalled by his traitorous thoughts of the rash mortal, he finally brought his lips to the exquisite-looking female, driving all his attention to the feel of her lips against his.

He groaned into her mouth, the sound embarrassingly desperate. Cardan could even feel the woman’s lip curve up into a smug smile against his. The woman never once breaking their kiss, moved to straddle his lap, rubbing herself against him, making Cardan moan with pleasure and desperation. Bringing her as close to him as possible, Cardan kissed her hard and rough something the woman was more than happy to retaliate with her own brutal kisses. Their mouths slipped together effortlessly, teeth over lips over tongues.

Seemingly done with kissing, the woman moved to place some hot, open-mouthed, sloppy kisses against his jaw and down his neck. Cardan was sure that by the next night, there would be a variety of bright red marks blossoming his pale skin that he would have to glamour them away but he couldn’t care less at the moment, as the woman’s mouth moved lower and lower until it reached the collar of his loose linen shirt. She looked up at him with inquisitive brown eyes and Cardan nodded, knowing what she was asking for. Nimble hands unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, showcasing his defined pale muscles. He wouldn’t describe himself to be particularly muscular but rather lean muscular but that seemed to please the lady enough as she continued the journey of her kisses down his chest, stopping just above his waist.

Leisurely, tantalizingly, taking her precious time, she slowly undid the silver buttons of his breeches, dragging them down slowly, her nails lightly scraping against his skin, the sensation weirdly pleasant. Surprisingly, she kissed him again. Long yet slow. Teasing yet sensual. Reverent yet careless. Cardan sighed into her mouth as her calloused hands gently moved through his smooth black hair, making her giggle into his mouth at the sound. A corner of Cardan’s soft mouth quirked up by her tinkling laugh. He almost thoughtlessly, caressingly fondled her sharp jaw with his thumb. The touch so reverent that it scared him. Even with Nicasia never had he ever truly been vulnerable. Even as they lay bare, with their limbs entangled, their breathing hard and their faces flushed with ecstasy had he ever felt this exposed as he felt now, with a stranger. A stranger wearing a pale blue silk mask.

Her small hand slithered down his chest, down his stomach, and came to rest on his waist. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at him, asking him for his consent. He nodded fervently, desperate to be touched. By her, his mind added automatically. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice as she uncertainly gripped his hard length, making him let out a harsh animal-like sound from the back of his throat. Breathing wildly, he looked down at the woman, her pupils were dilated, the black swallowing up the deep honey of her eyes, and a self-assured smirk graced her mouth. Cardan watched, mesmerized, as she slowly, more confidently, started moving her hand up and down his length.

Cardan threw his head back, pleasure and hunger humming through his body in wild waves of desire. Hunger for something more. Hunger for her. Hunger to have her body as close to him as it was possible. Hunger to have her moan his name in frenzied bliss as she pleasured herself with him.

He could still feel her rough hand move up and down over and over against him. Squeezing and caressing him from the base to the tip but what he wasn’t ready for was for her to take him in her mouth. He gasped as he felt the warmness of her mouth surround him. He watched in rapt attention — careful not to blink so as not to miss anything — as she took him whole in her mouth. He watched as she bobbed her head on his length, sucking when necessary. He was so close. So close to reaching his sweet long awaited climax, but just when he thought he could hold himself back no longer, she stopped and with a resounding ‘pop’ removed him from her mouth. He thought that he might have groaned with frustration and as the woman’s mouth connected with his lips again, his frustration only heightened with each brush of lips. The kiss was chaste but filthy at the same time. Almost as if she was apologizing to him for not giving him his sweet release but also promising something much better as her hands roamed his chest with reckless abandon.

Abruptly, she stood up, away from him, making a noise of protest, he said, “Why—” but the sentence died on his tongue as she tortuously slowly, began undressing herself. She first slipped off one of her flimsy sleeves then the other and then pushed the dress down all together until it pooled in a mess of blue at her ankles. Stepping out of it, she was left standing just in her underclothes but it was of a very different kind, he realized with a start. When he came to think of it, her curves were far too voluminous to belong to any fey. But all thoughts left his head as she reached behind her back and the strange blue under cloth covering her breasts fell to the ground. He almost groaned at the sight of her bare perfectly round breasts. Then, she pushed down her underwear until she stood naked in front of him. Before Cardan could so much as utter a single sound she straddled his waist again, kissing him, hard and hungry, parting his lips with her own, delving her tongue between his mouth.

Then, detaching her rosy swollen lips from his equally swollen ones. She moved to kiss his neck again but before she had time to do anymore, Cardan flipped them over so she was lying beneath him with his arms supporting his weight so he didn’t crush her completely but looking at her he couldn’t think that she could be crushed by anyone, but still he held himself up by his arms, anyway. Just in case.

The woman’s eyes went wide like saucers clearly surprised but pleased by this new change of position. He threw a lazy smirk at her and she laughed one of her rare laughs — rough and low — throwing her head back and exposing her neck to him. Cardan immediately began peppering the woman’s neck with kisses and her laugh turned into a long drawn-out moan. Pleased with himself, he made his journey down her neck and onto her chest, paying special attention to her breasts with his mouth, eliciting sounds sweeter than the sweetest of wines from her mouth.

One of his hands moved down to her thighs, nearing the region between her legs. He teased the woman mercilessly by never quite touching the spot he knew she ached the most. Just when he thought she might yell at Cardan with frustration and anger he finally gave in and touched her. He cursed under his breath. She was soaking wet. He tried to not let that get into his head but the rush of knowing that he caused this was as heady as the strongest of wines, if not even more so.

He parted her folds, rubbing small circles on her clit as she made sounds sweeter than everapple which fell on his desperate ears, instantly going to his throbbing length. He inserted two fingers inside of her, making her grasp and scratch his back hard enough to draw blood. Soon enough, he moved his head between her legs too, his tongue licking and sucking, determined to make her come. She tasted so sweet and bitter at the same time. Like poison, he thought.

He continued his ministrations till he felt her clench around his long slender fingers, obviously reaching her release. Her moans filled the room, echoing around it until she quietened, and then gingerly Cardan removed his fingers from her and moved up to kiss her, sweet and slow. He knew she could taste her own arousal on his lips but she didn’t seem to mind, she simply kissed him back, her fingers threading through his soft black hair.

She lightly pushed him back, surprised Cardan looked at her but seeing the mischievous glint in her eyes he laughed and lifted himself up from her to lay on the other side of the bed. She soon enough followed him to move over him, kissing him lightly before positioning her sopping heat over his length. She slowly as if keen on tormenting him even further, took him inside her. Whimpering, she slid even further down him, making Cardan groan loudly and grip her hips in a desperately poor attempt to hold onto any shred of sanity that he currently possessed.

The woman, once adjusted to the size of him, began to move more swiftly on him. Soon, her movements became reckless, wild, hasty, and brisk, that even Cardan had trouble keeping up. Fairies never did what this woman was currently doing with him. Fairies tumbled, they frolicked, they made love, they took hours to discover each other’s bodies, never in haste, always taking their precious time and Cardan never complained, he liked it, but currently lying beneath this woman as she took her sweet pleasure from him, he didn’t know if he could go back to the ways of the fair folk. He didn’t want to go back to the ways of the fair folk.

Cardan watched as if under a spell — though that wasn’t possible as no one knew his real name — as the woman’s movements began to waver, her release obviously close. Deciding to take matters into his own hand, he flipped the woman again — with her laying on her back and him hovering above her.

He slammed into her, never had he ever been this wild while making love, if one could even call it that. He was so out of control and he loved every second of it. It was the most free he had ever been since, well, forever.

The woman gasped under him, her eyes scrunched up, face down. He tilted her head up with one of his slender fingers and said, “Open your eyes, please.” He was practically begging but he didn’t care because she listened to him and opened her mesmerizingly stunning eyes, her eyes that were now so dark and filled with desire and reckless wildness, that even staring at them almost made him come.

“I—I can’t hold on much longer,” He murmured, hot against her ear. Apparently, that was enough for her to fall over the edge as she came around him, pretty little moans falling from her mouth. Just by the sounds alone he soon followed her into the sweet blissful afterglow daze.

He lay still against her, his breathing hard. When he finally calmed down, he looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, she was watching him. He smiled, and she smiled back a toothy smile. She looked without any care in the world as she lay beneath him, a small, genuine, smile plastered on her face. Cardan was sure he looked the same. He never knew you could feel this kind of feeling, this sweet nothingness, that he was currently feeling with anyone, let alone a stranger, yet here he was, freer and happier than he had ever been his whole life.

“I—” He began, then reconsidering, “It just occurred to me that…we just made love and I haven’t even seen your face.” And Indeed he hadn’t. She still wore her pale blue mask, hiding her whole face, except her deliciously swollen red mouth. He was proud to see that he had done that to her, but looking at it, he noticed that the smile she wore slipped off. He panicked, fearing he had said the wrong thing and ruined this beautiful moment he was having with her, one where he was not a prince but just a mere boy laying in the arms of his lover that he just met, but then, she smiled slightly and he felt his worries evaporate in thin air.

She slowly lifted her arms and then her head, just an inch, from the pillow where it currently lay, to undo the knots tying her mask together. He watched as she gently removed it from her face and he stilled immediately. His breathing stopped, it even seemed that his heart had altogether stopped beating itself too. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He wouldn’t believe his eyes. But as he stared at the woman’s face it could not be denied that she was who he feared she was. Jude.

He abruptly threw himself off her, horrified. The woman, no, Jude, just slanted her head as if in mild confusion, as if she couldn’t understand why he was freaking out. He wanted to yell at her to get out of his chambers but all he did was point an accusing finger at her and hiss, with all the vehemence he could gather, “You.”

Jude stared at him for a moment, then laughed, as if the whole ordeal was beyond hilarious to her. Lifting an amused eyebrow at him, she said, “Yes, me.”

“I—I will—” He stuttered stupidly, at a loss of words.

“You will what?” She asked, mildly interested. She stood up from the bed to stand in front of him and tilted her head as if waiting for him to continue and finish his sentence. He stared blankly at her, he also didn’t know what he was going to say because all he could think about at that moment, was Jude, standing naked in front of him. The familiar pit of desire opened up in his stomach once again but he closed it up. What he couldn’t stop though was glancing, for a fleeting moment, at her luscious lips, but unfortunately for him, Jude, who never missed anything, of course, saw this and smirked.

“Oh, Cardan,” She said, leaning in towards him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes fluttered shut automatically in anticipation, in want. He closed his eyes even harder as if somehow that would make this any less real and hide his growing desire for her.

“You really do want me,” She whispered, her mouth mere inches apart from him, “and you hate it.” With that, she brought her dangerous mouth to his own traitorous one. She kissed him, slow and rough, and he let her.

xxx

Cardan woke up with a start, cold sweat coating his pale skin, desire running wild through his body like a fast-flowing river ready to drown anything that came in between it. He looked around his room, trying to look for Jude, but then it dawned on him that he had been dreaming. It all had been a dream. Kissing Jude was a…dream. Making love to her was a dream. He shook his head as if somehow trying to rid his head of the ungodly image his brain was currently replaying, one that featured a very cloth-less Jude. Ungodly and not real, he reminded himself furiously.

He took a couple of deep breaths, willing himself to calm down, trying to think unpleasant thoughts about Jude, but none currently came to his mind. He was in a lot of trouble, he thought, appalled.

Horror, shame, anger, and worst of all stupid hope pooled in his stomach. He threw himself off his bed, opening up the shelf where he kept all the alcohol he possessed. Well, all the alcohol he possessed in his chambers, at least.

He grabbed himself a bottle of red wine, immediately opening it up and chugging it from the bottle straight. He couldn’t be sober for this. He wouldn’t be sober for this. When the familiar, soothing, taste of wine filled his mouth did he finally calm down. The sweet and bitter wine — like her, he thought but abruptly dismissed — guzzled down his neck and into his stomach, cooling down the intense feelings that seemed to overwhelm him until he couldn’t breathe.

xxx

Later that night, as he took a fairie with long ash-blonde hair and brown barky skin to bed, he thought of Jude and he hated every single second of it.

[murasaki-cha]

Truer words have never been spoken in a TFOTA fanfic amen

The fic in question is Between Enemy Lines by The Indomitable Smartass which basically has the majority of TQoN from Cardan's pov and it's SO GOOD!!! Please go read it!!

[moaihybitoyoidaics]

elite tfota fans ship cardan with his literal front door.

[wanderingpages]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾Gentle Sins AU☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Are you going to help me take my clothes off too?” I meant it to sound teasing – I wanted to show him I could play his game too – but I was breathless, I was buzzing with anticipation.

“You know it wouldn’t end there, Jude,” he gave me a wry look. “It's a shame,” he rose and ruffled my hair, “It's a shame you’re my sister,” he murmured, needlessly reminding me. “Because that was some damn fine pussy, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Jude and Cardan do things step-siblings shouldn't do.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Allusions to Drugs/Alcohol, Debauching Catholicism/Religious Metaphors, Taboo Sex.

Shoutout @headcannonxgalore for holding down the set ❤️

Jude's POV

Cardan is never home – at least not when I am, which is usually always. As far as I knew, he stayed with his dad, went on long vacations, and otherwise only met up with his mom once in a while. So, it irks me a little when I see him waiting for me after my last final, asking, “Are you ready to head home?” Home – as in my home.  

He waits for me to pack and say goodbye to my friends, then leads me to his car, and holds the door open for me. “You’re staying with us?” I ask a few minutes into the drive, finding whatever was on the radio to be a little annoying and dull. I open the glove compartment, nosily, sifting through the pack of wipes and snackbars, and pull out a thin worn out book. It’s mostly a discolored yellow, with red writing, in french, La Chute – The Fall by Albert Camus. I flip through the pages, surprised to see dog ears and sticky notes throughout. 

“My father isn’t in the country, and why be alone, when I can be with my favorite sister?” His eyes are on the road but his wry smile is directed at me when I glance up at him. He reaches over and takes the book from me, tossing it to the back of the car. “You don't need existentialism now, Jude.”

I grimace; it’s not as if I could read French anyways, though it is surprising that Cardan has that copy in its original language. “Is it your favorite?” I ask. I wiggle my brows, “Do you think you, too, have fallen from grace?”

His smile is Cheshire in response, “Since the day I met you, little sister.” I cross my eyes upwards. 

I scrunch my nose,“You can be so….” I trail off, wanting to say infuriating or annoying, but I didn't really need to, he already guesses it. 

He responds, “Likewise.” He must sense the incredulous look I give him because he checks me, “You could have said no. To the drive home,” he says, for instance. “Me, in your dorm,” he begins to list, making me feel incredibly self aware. “Walking you home from the party – being in the same room as me at that party, actually. Ghost would have found someplace else if you asked. Even prior to that,” Cardan tells me, “You could have told me no at the reception. But you didn't. We have these cute little trysts for a few hours and then you pretend it’s never happened. I guess you’re kind of like your dad, in that way.” He says the last bit quietly, but I frown all the same. Before I can ask him what he means, he admits, “It’s okay, I’m like my dad too, for even putting up with it. I guess I like being strung along.”

“Cardan…”

“I like stringing you along, too. It's fun to see who’d last the longest. It’s fun to see how far this would go. Do I get to drag you to hell with me, little sister?”  I should be bothered by Cardan’s words, but he’s not wrong. His introspection makes the car feel stuffy, so I roll down the window and let the air rush in. He grins and turns the dial on the stereo louder, singing along softly to the lyrics as if they are proving his point. “And you'll find yourself praying up to Heaven above, but honestly I never had much sympathy 'cause those bad things, I always saw them coming for me…I'm gonna run, run away, run, run away, run away…” Bad Things by Cults – it is a jarring song; calm and disruptive, a lot like how it feels being in this small space with him. My pointer finger grazes the knuckle of my thumb absently. I rest my head back, listening to his voice. 

“You’re kind of a dick,” I finally tell him. Of course he knows this, but saying it out loud made me feel less lousy about how he’s painted me.

“I must have gotten it from Mom.” I frown at that, finding it to seem untrue. The more time I spend with Cardan, the more my view on my stepmother starts to shift

I hesitate to ask about his dad, to go back to the reason he’s driving me home – Asha’s first husband. Did Asha string him along? Is that what Cardan was getting at? Is she doing the same to my father and I? Is my father aware? “Why didn’t you…” I trail off when I realize it really isn’t  any of my business, but still, he prompts me to continue. “I mean, I guess, why didn’t you spend more time with Asha? Did she not have shared custody of you or something?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and I turn in my seat to look at him, waiting to see if he’d tell me to fuck off or not. What he says instead, throws me off, “Asha was deemed unfit to parent.” I blink hard at this, in disbelief. If he notices, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he shifts the conversation to me; asks about my mom.

“She… I don’t know,” I admit, probably for the first time in my life. “She left me – us, Dad and I, when I was five. I don’t know where she is. I think she’s started a new family somewhere else.” I face forward and rest my elbow on the door handle, absently nipping at my thumb. As an afterthought, I say, “Maybe she’s dead.” he hums out a response, but he has no clue of the spiral he’s sent me on. Or maybe he does, and that's why when we stop for gas at the next rest stop, he tosses me a first aid kit. He waits until I put the antiseptic cream on and wrap thin gauze around my knuckles. My cheeks heat; he had noticed when my fingers started to bleed. In truth, Cardan doesn't really even need gas, so I say thank you and give him a bright smile when I’m done. 

He tilts his head and reaches for my hair, brushing it back behind my ears. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it at the last moment and instead asks if I’m hungry. “There’s a diner a few miles ahead.” biding more time with him, I nod my head and let him pay for a meal. 

The diner is cozy, but I’m not in the mood for a big meal, so I settle for a slice of cherry pie. We are at the darkest corner of the diner, and while it feels pretty private, I’m still keenly aware of the scatter of guests coming and going. Because of where we are seated, it takes some time for the waitress to notice, then even more time for our food and drinks to arrive. We are mostly forgotten here in this pocket of the diner. I don’t think I mind much, though.

I steer the conversation to less heavy and more neutral topics. I ask about the frat house and why he’s not actually a part of it. When he tells me his dad donates a hefty sum of money to the college, that surprises me. I guess, there really is a lot about him I had no idea of. “I'm an honorary member,” he shrugs, “It’s kind of hard not to be when Daddy funds their lifestyle.” I crack a smile because Cardan can be dorky sometimes. I ask about his relationships with the other members, I suppose wanting to know more about his stance on Ghost, really. If he would have been okay with anybody creeping into his room with me that night. “Ghost is my best friend. It would have been a fight had it been Locke or anyone else,” he divulges, and though I shouldn't be startled by his honesty, it still makes me feel a little too warm. Then he admits, maybe selfishly considering his track record for the past few weeks, “If he had gone further, I would have buried him.”

My eyes get wide and when I say, “That's not fair,” it comes out in a whisper.

“I know.” 

Cardan had ordered a burger, so when it finally arrives, he pushes the platter more to the center of the table and tells me to eat some of his fries; he halfheartedly jokes that I'd probably get sick if I only eat sugar for lunch. I take a few to appease him, nibbling them almost thoughtfully. “That's a visceral reaction,” I come to terms with. “Your best friend?” I blush when I remind him quietly, “you’re the one who told me to open my mouth.”

“I rather his load in your mouth than on your body or in your cunt,” he says graphically. I cough in shock but he’s not bothered. “Plus, I think you look cute with a dick in your mouth.”

I scowl at him after reaching for a sip of soda. “What makes you think you have any right over my body?”

“I know I don't.” He picks at a fry, “I told you, baby, you could have said no.” I’m taken aback but I should know by now, my step brother is anything but a liar. I ponder his admittance of jealousy, but also his acceptance that he really had no say - only what I let him have say over, and I realize, I let him have say over a lot. “You could have ignored me and hopped on his dick. Maybe it would have been a blow to my ego, but then I probably wouldn't be in this diner right now with you.” He always says so much while saying so little, doesn't he? “Anyways, if you decide to tell me to fuck off and pursue Ghost instead, you should walk around with condoms, because I know he doesn’t.” It’s so offhanded that I don't even really process it as anything more than banter. 

“I’m on birth control,” I tell him indignantly, willfully ignoring all else that was said. “I don't want to be with Ghost, anyways.” I let him take that as he may and I dig into my pie as if to end the conversation there. I want to let him know I don’t want to be with him either, but that would be lying and despite myself, I just couldn’t tell Cardan to fuck off.  After a while, I notice him staring. “Do you want some of my pie,” I offer.

“Is that a euphemism?”

I shift my head to the side as if I’m actually thinking about it. My feet finds his under the table, and with my legs crossed, I have enough leverage to use my ankle to softly graze up his leg. “Do you want it to be?”

He catches hold of my ankle, uncrossing my legs to place my foot on his thigh. I lean back in the booth a little awkwardly, and lick at my cherry coated spoon. “What's the pipeline between mommy issues and wanting to bend your sister over the bathroom sink?” Cardan muses.

“Stepsister,” I tell him. I wiggle my foot in his grip. I have on snow boots and leggings, not at all looking as sexy as I feel right now. 

He shrugs and with his free hand, reaches across the table and dips two fingers into the center of the slice. “It makes no difference to me, Jude. Sister or not, I’d want you the same way I wanted you then, the same way I want you now.”  I watch as he pulls them out slowly, completely coating his fingers with the sticky sweet maroon. I follow his fingers to where he hovers them in front of his mouth then sticks his tongue out and flattens it against his digits, tasting the honeyed tart. I shiver and twist in my seat, eyes slowly drifting up to find his dark ones already piercing into my soul. 

“And…” my words come out breathy against my will. “How do you want me, now?” I play with fire to condition myself. Hell is hot, I’ve heard, and maybe Cardan does get to drag me there with him.

“I want you to copy me,” he says, huskily, startling me, my eyes growing wide. “I want you to stick your fingers in your panties and do what I do.”

My breathing gets erratic in mere seconds. I look around the near empty diner, like if I’m actually contemplating it. “You’re crazy,” I whisper. His eyes are teasing, daring me to say no to him, proving his point all over again when I don’t.

Cardan grins, “Take your jacket off, put it on over your lap. Don’t worry, baby sister, it’ll be our little secret.” His teeth scrape the tip of his fingers. I’m crazy, too, I think, as I do exactly what he asks. “I bet it’s already wet,” he leans over the table, talking quietly. I slip my hand beneath the elastic material of my leggings then under the cotton of my panties, glancing to see if anyone had caught on. Cardan catches my chin, fingerprinting it red and turning me to face him. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I whisper, embarrassed, but not enough to stop. “Soaking.”

“Good girl. Now watch,” he instructs, leaning back. He guides my leg to the side of him, spreading my thighs wider. He takes his cherried fingers and separates them into a V Shape. The tip of his tongue traces the inner part, slowly. I swallow thickly, shaking as I let my fingers follow along, circling the outside of my pussy, mirroring his movements. 

My leg beside him starts to tremble, but with his free hand, he holds me still, caressing me soothingly. He tongues the crook of his fingers and I hesitate before I begin rubbing my clit with matching vigor. My eyes flutter, and I try to hold in an embarrassing noise as my head falls back against the cushioned seat. My eyes are still trying to focus on him, matching the pressure, matching the rhythm, though struggling to even stay at half mast.  I bite my lower lip when he presses his fingers together and strokes between them wetly. He licks his own lips then asks, “How do you feel?”

“Good,” I mumble. Scared – “Nervous,” I admit, looking at him with blown out eyes and heat erupting all over my body. My fingers shake, but the shallow caresses make me shamefully wet. “Cardan,” I silently plead, my chest moving up and down sporadically, my stomach tightening, muscles contorting. “Come here,” I beg.

Without a word, Cardan complies, getting up from his seat to sit right next to me. I pivot slightly, leaning sideways into the booth. He strokes my hair back soothingly, and traces my lips with his still stained fingers. My lips part, just a taste of the cherries slipping through. I moan quietly and he says, “Don’t stop, okay, Jude?” I nod my head as much as I can with the way he holds me. He paints my lips methodically, over and over, and I find my fingers mirroring him between my legs. He watches, fixated on the way my mouth parts and moves, gasping and widening for his fingers to slip through. “I think…I want to do to you what Spring does to cherry trees,” he murmurs. “Open you up…watch you bloom.” 

My eyes screw shut tightly. His fingers probe my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. My fingers slide in too, entering with a slow pressure. He strokes inside my mouth and when he tells me to suck it clean, my stomach knots in response. I do; I suck until there is no trace of cherry left, no red stains or residue, and I finger myself in tandem. He pulls out of my mouth, a trail of spit losing connection when he finds his way under the jacket, following my hand, and adding his finger to my two. I whimper at his intrusion, and think, disoriented, three. Three fingers. 

He licks up my chin before he kisses me, letting me taste the forgotten smudge he’d left on me, while he slowly works both our digits inside of me the way he wants. I hold on to his sweater with my free hand, fingers gripping tightly as my toes begin to curl. My painfully quiet whines are being swallowed by him greedily. 

I yank him closer to me when the waitress comes by. I forget to breathe when she makes a squeak and with horror, my eyes flit to her blushing cheeks. She smiles bashfully, “Oh don’t mind me,” she says, not at all realizing what is happening under the table, “Here’s the bill, you love birds,” she giggled. God, we must look like teenagers making out back here.

Cardan pulls away only slightly, fingers replacing my frozen ones gently pushing them away, and sliding his two fingers deeper into me. My head falls forward, hiding my face in his sweater when he curves them just right. “Sorry,” He tells the waitress, holding my gaze. “I just missed her so much,” he lies. “Missed her in my arms,” he murmurs.

“Oh hush, don't be sorry,” the waitress says almost fondly and I feel only partially sick over it. She sounds further away, “I was young once too.” 

“Missed her pretty face when I made her come,” Cardan continues, speaking to me alone, lips touching mine every so often. He pumps me faster and I take a chunk of his sweater into my mouth, biting down on it so hard my jaw hurts. “Missed the way she felt when her pussy gripped my fingers.” I feel like I’m on the brink of death, gasping for breath, eyes starting to gloss. He holds my head back, making sure I’m in view of him. My ears feel like I’m underwater; everything is static except for Cardan and his words. For a moment, I forget where I am. He swallows my screams when I can't hold back, rubbing his fingers roughly, forcing my body to twitch against his. I bite down on his lips so hard but he takes it in stride, until I’m slumped against him, feeling absolutely weightless. He pulls away from me to kiss my forehead too softly for the utter seismic orgasm he’d just given me. When I lean back, Cardan looks as flushed as I feel. For once, his cheeks are the ones that are red and his forehead is glistening with sweat. His eyes are dazed, his lips swollen and red. 

“I… Are you okay?” I asked almost in a slur. I trace his cheek up to his ear, flicking the cross earring dangling from the first piercing. His dark eyes pierce mine when he brings his still wet fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

He smiles languidly, reaching in his pocket for a few bills I know is far over the actual amount necessary. He gets up first and leads me out of the booth. I use my jacket to cover myself up, and in a muddle, we walk out of the diner, hand in hand. 

He kisses me sweetly when we get to his car, and I kiss him back, because we can, for right now. He opens his trunk and I dig out the first pair of necessary clothing I find in my overnight bag and then he opens the door to the backseat for me, standing lookout as I awkwardly try to change.

“Cardan?” I ask when we’re on the road again. “Are you okay?” he’d been silent since I asked the first time back at the diner, I realize belatedly.

His smile is lazy and maybe even disoriented. “I don’t even like cherries,” he finally mumbles. 

I glance at his fingers instinctively, like I can still see the filling there. “Is it…is it out of your system?”

His brows furrow almost comically. “Cherries?”

“Me,” I tell him. When he doesn't answer, I explain, “We can't do this at home, Cardan… our parents…” he snorts at that, but never really gives me an answer.

←Prev Part ∞ Next Part →

Masterlist

Gentle Sins Masterlist

[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

[iscreammutiny]

I have all these jurdan fanfics written but idk if I should post bcs who would read man

[likecanyoujustnot]

Cardan’s letters pov

Part 6: Jude

A/n: i wish holly hadve just had Asha put the letters in like a drawer and not burnt them because cardan really put his heart and soul into these letters

Part 5

I’d gone through an entire bottle of wine in the past hour. Plus whatever I’d had at dinner. I’d sworn I would drink as much after I became king.

The bomb had had one glass.

She looked at me with so much pity in her eyes I knew I must look like shit.

Another week had gone by with no correspondence from Jude. Not even a threat or anything to tell me she wasn’t coming back.

Just… nothing.

And it was killing me.

The bomb had been doing her usual routine spying from the rafters, keeping a special eye out for the ghost and anyone who worked for Madoc.

And upon seeing me absolutely wasted she’d taken me back to my room, where I’d proceeded to open another bottle.

“Why won’t she come home?” God I sounded pathetic.

She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re her friend. You know how she works.”

“And so do you. You’re her… whatever.” Husband. The word meant nothing if no one but us knew. “You’ve known her longer than I have.”

And yet, I didn’t know why she stayed away.

“I just want her back.”

The bomb’s gaze softened, just a bit. “Maybe you shouldn’t’ve exiled her.”

“She killed my brother.”

“And yet you still want her back.”

“I don’t care about the brother part, it’s that if I hadn’t, Orlagh could’ve demanded a much higher price.” I took another gulp of the wine. “Her life.”

The bomb grabbed the glass from my hand. “No more of this. Don’t look at me like that, can’t have Jude back if you drink yourself to death.”

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you are my king, and I can’t have you acting like this.”

“You never cared before.” I leaned back on the couch and surveyed the spy.

“Jude was here before.”

“My every minute of existence does not revolve around her.”

She looked at me, as though I had found a way to lie. But it wasn’t a lie, otherwise I couldn’t have said it. My sleeping minutes didn’t revolve around her. Technicalities.

“You keep telling yourself that. The denial is so strong you can even convince yourself that’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned forward, forearms on her knees. “You, High King Cardan, in love with your mortal seneschal, Jude Duarte.”

She was good. And right. I couldn’t deny it, and the bomb knew that judging by the massive smile on her face.

“What do you know of love?”

“More than you’d think.” There was a sorrow in her voice. “But I do know you stare at Jude when you think no one is looking, you have been miserable since she left. You yearn for her presence, for her to be with you and it kills you that she’s not here.”

Damn.

“What about you and the roach?”

Her smile dropped a fraction. “That is none of your concern.”

“Well then my relationships shouldn’t be any of yours.”

There was a pause, she sighed. “Look at us, the king of elfhame and his spy, sharing our miserable lives full of unrequited love.”

I sat up. “You think she doesn’t feel the same?”

She shrugged and took a sip from the wine glass she’d removed from me. “Jude’s mind works in strange ways, but then again so does yours.” She laughed. “Exile the woman you love, great idea, what could possibly go wrong?”

I scowled and she laughed again. “You can’t even deny you love her.”

“We’ve established that.”

“That’s what makes it funny.”

“Not to me.”

She shrugged again. “She definitely feels something for you, I saw the hurt in her eyes that day on the beach. Probably would’ve pained her less had you stabbed her in the stomach.”

Screw it. “We’re ma-”

There was a knock on the door. And the bomb got up to answer it.

I couldn’t hear the hushed words exchanged. I’d been so close to telling her the truth. Jude was queen. Her queen. My queen. And my wife.

The bomb came back and grabbed her cloak, calling over her shoulder. “There’s been an issue with some of our spies, I have to go take care of it. Don’t drink anymore.”

As if I would listen to her.

Everyone said alcohol was bad for you, but I was the high king, I was stronger and more powerful than the average faerie. And it numbed the pain.

That’s what I told myself as I went through another bottle.

I woke up, head pounding and wanting to throw up. How much did I drink?

At least I was in my bed, nothing but a pair of pants on.

There were three empty bottles on the table outside my bed chamber. So I’d had two once the bomb left. Not as many as I feared.

There was a note on the table, from the bomb?

No, it was in my handwriting.

One word.

Over and over again.

Until it got to the second last, which was different.

JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE

please Jude.

There were a few ink splatters on the page. Giving the intention drunk me had pressed too hard with the quill.

Seeing it brought back the memory of when we’d been in the court of shadows after the coronation.

When she’d questioned me about finding it in my room.

I didn’t ask how she’d found it, or why she’d been in my room. I didn’t care. And I didn’t care now. I just cared that she wasn’t here.

I didn’t even put on a shirt as I walked out of my room.

“This letter gets to Jude Duarte, or I will personally see your demise.”

The man looked at me, fear in his eyes as he took me in. Mad gilt in my eyes, no shirt, undoubtedly smelling of wine. He grabbed the letter and ran off.

I went back to my room.

I’d barely slammed the door shut before I’d collapsed against it, head in my hands.

How had I gotten here?

Someone knocked on the door.

A deep rumbling voice reached me, muffled through the door. “Your majesty.”

“Go away.” I hissed.

“I’m afraid it’s urgent.” The fool didn’t even hesitate.

“It. Can. Wait.”

“Taryn Duarte is here to see you.”

“She can wait too.”

“She says her husband is dead.”

I flung open the door.

“What?”

I’m done!!

I’m not sure if I should write the trial from Cardan’s pov?

Or do smth manorian

Idk

Give me ideas

[bellarkeex]

Depraved Thing [Jude x Cardan]

Cardan left Jude high and not dry all day, now he's paying for it.

☾ warnings: sex, oral sex [male & female receiving], marking, cardans a bottom, his tail makes an appearance, 18+

☾ read on ao3:  here

☾ length: 1,016 

☾ i couldn’t sleep so this happened :) 

We barely manage to make it down the corridor keeping our hands to ourselves, almost giving every worker in the palace a show. Not that they could object. Cardan wouldn't either. I would just rather not.  

The door to our chambers is hardly even closed before Cardans lips are on mine, my breath quickly becoming ragged as I blindly pull his clothes from his body. I would feel bad for our guards, knowing they can most definitely hear us, if my only concern wasn't my husband in this moment.  

His swollen lips trail down my jaw to settle on my neck, leaving evidence of his love in his wake. Gripping one of my hands into the soft curls of his hair, the other into his bare back - I strain to hear the desperate whispers leaving Cardans mouth.  

"Jude." He sighs against the forming bruise on my collarbone, discarding my dress to the floor.  

Sinking to his knees before me, he continues to trail wet kisses across my breasts, hips, thighs. His mouth is everywhere except where I need it most. I look to where he's bowed before me as I attempt to stop slightly irritated moans escaping me, to see him savouring a devilish grin.  

He knows exactly what he's doing.  

I glare down at him as he meets my gaze, dark eyes watching me for a moment, before bringing his mouth between my thighs. Relaxing against the door, his tail coming to wrap around my ankle, furred tip brushing at my calf. Gasps escape my mouth as he slides a long finger into me, then another, tongue working at my nerves.  

My skin burns with pleasure under his manipulation, losing more and more control as he continues his veneration.  

"Cardan, I-." Breath betrays me as I shake against him and go to grasp the door, trying to keep myself upright, despite Cardan holding me steady.  

"I know." He mouths against my inner thigh, still grinning to himself. "I know."  

Yes. Yes, he does. All day, sneaking up behind me to whisper filthy things in my ear just to see me redden. Or his touch that's gone too soon because of conveniently timed council business, business he's never bothered himself with before, leaving me hot and bothered.  

He returns to stand before me, lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist, slick leaking slightly onto his stomach. He holds my head in the crook of his neck, stealing the opportunity I kiss and bite my way from his pulse point to his pointed ear, while he carries me to our bed.  

Cardan lowers me onto the embroidered covers, crawling to hover above me. He shouldn't be surprised, but a moment of shock flashes in his eyes as he ends up under me instead - being straddled at the hips.  

"It was a very heinous thing, what you did today." I whisper against his mouth, refusing to kiss him.  

"I have no idea which thing you could possibly be referring to, my wife," He feigns innocence, "I've done many heinous things today."  

"Oh really?"  

Before I let myself think twice, my fingertips lightly dust along his tail which has come to settle around my waist, keeping me close. A shiver runs through my king below me, breath catching in his throat as I graze the sensitive skin. Gold rims of his eyes disappearing, gaze consuming every inch of me that is bared above him.  

"You don't have any idea? None at all?" A small laugh escapes me, as I fail to choke down the surge of power that overcomes me.  

I move my other hand to gently scratch down his chest, before inching my way down his body - savouring every piece of flesh I can get my teeth on. I settle around his knees and reach for him.  

Littering kisses to his swollen tip, I gaze up to see him open mouthed, breathless, and as beautiful as ever. In attempt to weave his hands in my hair, I take hold of his wrist pinning it to the bed.  

Hollowing my cheeks around him, beneath me Cardans legs begin to shake and in turn I'm reminded about the faint shake of my own. His hands gripping the sheets, because I haven't let him hold onto me. He looks so pretty being bathed in the moonlight, fighting his own pleasure not to finish. Just when I feel him begin to twitch in my mouth, I come up for air.  

"But, Jude-." he manages breathlessly. I only smirk down at him as I climb my way back up his body.  

I release his hands which instinctively come to rest on my waist, I don't push them away. Honestly, I missed his touch even though my skin is alight under his. My hands pass over his chest and arms, mock soothingly, where chills have settled on his skin.  

"Jude." He says my name like a prayer, over and over again, divinity on his lips. "Jude. Jude, please."  

Pleading with me to give him release. The way he looks at me his cheeks flushed; I cannot deny him.  

Gasps leave both our mouths as I slide him inside of me, stretching around him. Cardans eyes are heavy, as though he's fighting to keep them open against the pleasure, intent on watching me as I tip my head back and cling onto him.  

Desperate sounds leave his mouth that he tries to silence between soft kisses. As he's pulling me more tightly against him, shocks of pleasure shoot down my spine to my core and I dip my forehead to rest against his.  

We're both a shaking mess when we finish, neither of us wanting to let go of the other. So when Cardan pulls me onto his side keeping me in his arms, I let him.  

"I am sorry I left you earlier." He whispers into my hair, which he's wrapping around his fingers. "But for this outcome I'd torture you again."  

"Oh, I know." I reply dazed, tracing shapeless lines into his chest. "You depraved thing." 

[lidiasloca]

Jude's birthday party (jurdan fic)

Post QON

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“I thought you told me you understood.” Jude says, which leaves me silent because, unfortunately, I can’t lie.

I told her I understood that she always celebrates her birthday with her twin and that she didn’t want to change that, since it wouldn’t be fair for Taryn.

However, what I don’t understand is why she can’t see that she is now the high queen, and because of that reason she ought to have her own party.

“I- I did” I say, looking down like a little kid. “I was just saying that she can celebrate it the next day.”

She doesn’t seem to take that well because she stares at me with that crazy-look of hers.

“Cardan” Jude responds, separating every vowel. “You won’t tell her that because she’ll agree with you, and she’ll feel bad and blah blah blah. You know how she is.”

I sigh. It’s not that I want to do this to Taryn because I’d enjoy messing with her. The thing is that I want for Jude to have a proper revel in her honor, the queen’s honor.

I see her furiously moving around our chamber, taking clothes and tidying everything, it makes me chuckle.

“What?” She asks when she hears me. “It’s not funny that you are so messy.” Little lying thing she is.

She is the messy one, and actually, these clothes she’s holding right now are hers. I won’t tell her that, though, she’s already too fuming to add any more wood.

She keeps moving around the room. “Judie,” I come closer to her from behind and take her hands, dropping the clothes she’s holding on the floor.

“Don’t call me that.” She hisses, while I can’t suppress a smirk.

“If you want to share your birthday party with her tomorrow, then so be it. It’s your call.” I kiss her cheek, hugging her from behind. “But don’t expect me to share my present for you with her.” She turns to me, grinning now, and hides her face on the crook of my neck.

“What’s your present?” I can feel her lips move as she speaks on my neck. 

“I won’t tell you, wife, you know that.” I’ve been secretly planning her presents for months now, and it’s been hard because she’s all too curious about it, bombarding me with questions every time I mention the day.

“Agh. I want to know.” She sobs exaggeratedly as she moves out of our embrace to stare at me. “If…” She says, smirking playfully. “you tell me about the present, I’ll let you do the revel thing you want to do.” She’s so bad and manipulative, that I can’t help but feel butterflies. 

“You mean celebrating only your birthday. Exclude Taryn. You mean that?” She nods with no apparent guilt. “You mean doing what I have begged you to let me do for months? You mean doing what used to get you mad all the time when I brought it up?” I’m trying to maintain a serious tone now, but it is hard when she keeps nodding with that mischievous smile on. “Only because you do not wish to wait a day to know what your presents are?” 

Suddenly Jude’s lips part in surprise to next become, once again, a smile. “What?” I ask confused. “Presents? You said presents. In plural.”

She misses nothing. “You are-” -Really annoying- I want to say, but again, I can’t lie.

“I’m what?” She laughs, coming closer again to wrap her arms around my waist.

“Well, now that I’ve told you about my present, you’ll let me do your party my way, won’t you?” I ask, my lips on her hair.

“Mmm… I don’t think the treaty was ever settled. Plus, it wasn't intentional to tell me. It wouldn’t be fair.”

I can’t see it, but I’d bet my kingdom she is right now smirking, thinking of me foolish.

-Characters by Holly Black

[natskys-w]

I have to much time on my hands AND Can't stop thinking about Jurdan. So if your reading this and it's full of mistakes l apologise l blame the boredom, we should all blame the boredom... and the fact l diden't pay much attention in English class.

"That blue FACED FERAL HARPY, l'm going to visicarate her and entombed her so FAR below the tower of the forgotten.  She won't even have insects to keep her company." Jude flung the queen off the chess board, without so much as a glance at the  chess piece. That shattered a magical vase that dare be in it's way and embedded itself into the wall, like a knife. 

His darling nemesis truly could make anything into a weapon.

"What was Oak thinking, putting himself in danger like that and forming an alliance with her of all people." Jude raged

"Beloved, Alliance is a strong word… Given his intentions"

"He could have come to me- no, should have come to me. He is the prince of Elfhame and the future king… Does he trust me so little."

She said

“Would you have let him go?”

“NO but thats not the point.”

“Well l think” Cardan said as he moved his rook “as a member of your family it would be strange, nay! concerning if he were to bow so easily to authority.  It would almost be like breaking tradition.” he reclined back, eyes a little hooded and with that mischievous smile, she loved.

“Look we still don't know enough about his relations with her. From what Madoc and our little spies said. It seems there is something there and for all we know they could just be playing rough.“

Jude answered that with a glare

“She's kidnapped, imprisoned, AND bridled him.”

Jude replied in a slow skeptical monotones voice 

“Maybe this is their courtship, and a full invasion and annihilation of your future sister in laws troops will only make holidays more awkward.”

“She is NOT my sister in law and l know what your thinking but they are not the same as us. Again She's kidnapped, enslaved AND BRIDLED him. He's probably being tortured as we speak scared and alone.”

“Wellll… it depends who's doing the kidnapping and enslaving…. The bridle however is a bit much for my taste, we would need a safe word.”

“Cardan!” 

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to distract her for a little from worrying about her baby brother.

“All l'm saying is maybe he's not so scared and alone and in fact might not appreciate the little assassin on it's way to turn her blood to slush.”

“So you suggest…” Jude looked defeated, Even though she corned his queen and  was two moves away from winning. 

His heart ached at not being able take away at least some of her pain and anger  for a little bit and his voice softened as his hand reached out for hers.

“That we give young love it's chance to bloom. If that's what this is… and if it's not, then rain iron and fire over her and her army.”

“I- l lied to Oriana”

Judes confessed her eyes drowning in tears. She would not let them shed

“ l promised; l would protect him.” her voice breaking even though she  looked as hard as stone over the board game her gaze lost on the dancing silhouette of their intertwined hands. The crackling of the fire filled the room as Cardan came to her side and gave a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist and scarred finger before scooping her  up and reposition themselves on her seat. Just basking in the moment of warmth before the morning came.