Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her back hits the ground, slamming the breath out of her. Her throat seizes suddenly, her lungs greedily pulling for air. It's as if someone had just punched her in the stomach and her eyes begin to water instinctively. She hears coughing coming from somewhere outside of her vision, and blinks to clear her eyes. Pushing herself up by her palms, she can see it’s Vivi, sprawled out over the grass and clutching her stomach.

“Ow. What the fuck?” Vivi rasps out, her breaths sounding equally as pained as Taryn feels. 

Taryn doesn’t reply. As concerned as she feels for Vivi, the complete change of the atmosphere around them grabs her attention more than any sympathetic feelings could. Up until only a couple seconds ago, it had been so crowded she'd been pretty much boxed in against half of Elfahame’s nobility. Now, nothing but silence filled her ears. Looking around, the reason for the silence was obvious. Only her and Vivi remained, sprawled in the middle of the now-empty garden floor. Her brain goes fuzzy for a second, the autopilot in her brain automatically latching onto what was becoming her most common feeling these days - fear. It was quickly followed by disgust; at herself for being so weak all the time, at Jude for making her feel so weak just by existing - another common feeling for her these days. But it was a muted version, barely heard over the noisy thoughts flooding into her mind as she took in even more of her new surroundings.

It was exactly the same as it had been a few seconds ago, except there was no one to be seen. It was as if a hundred people had just disappeared into thin air without leaving a trace. The grass was pristine, not even a thrown away bit of rubbish or an indent made by heavy footsteps to mar it's perfection. Combined with the almost suffocating silence, there was no signs anyone else had ever been with them.

“Jude? Madoc?” Taryn calls into the silence. She doesn't know why she does it, it's not like there's anyone around to hear her. But she's scared. She locks eyes with Vivi, who’s normally-dark green cheeks are drained of all colour. It resembles Taryn’s colour more than Madoc’s. “Vivi?” Taryn’s voice cracks - embarrassingly. “What’s going on?”

Vivi opens her mouth but nothing comes out. A sound behind them fills the space instead and Taryn flinches, already on edge. She gets half-way up before she trips over the trail of her dress, stumbling into Vivi in an attempt to get away from whatever is there. Her movements send both of them sprawling back into the mud. 

"Vivi!" It's Madoc.

Tayrn whips around, unspeakably grateful to hear the voice of someone she knows will protect her (even if she can't help but note he only called Vivi's name).

Madoc's familiar face comes into view, alongside Prince Dain. She hurries to stand but her movements are slowed, her brain unable to process what's happening. The prince takes her arm and helps her up without her even needing to ask. Her cheeks flush uncomfortably under his gaze, expecting to see some form of loathing in his eyes - she's come to expect that from most fae folk - but there's nothing there, not even the smallest bit of disgust at having to touch her dirty hands - both sullied by the mud and her human lineage. 

Even after he lets go quickly, her cheeks burn. The one time a royal actually acknowledging her presence and she’s covered in dirt and sprawled over a muddy floor of grass.

She backs out of his reach with a small ‘thanks’. She can’t help but gravitate towards Madoc, taking comfort in the vision of his sword and the familiar sight of his bloodied cap. She never knew when she’d need protection from the royals, and without Jude’s strong presence beside her, she felt even weaker than normal.

The sight of Prince Balekin and Princess Rhyia reinforces that feeling further. The prince’s weapon was drawn, as was Madoc’s. But, where Madoc’s made her feel safe (safer than she’d like to admit, but still), Balekin’s made her skin crawl. She’d had enough experience with Elfhame’s royals to know she never wanted to be at their mercy again.

Last week’s incident at the lack came to mind, unbidden. The way he’d smiled when she’d kissed Prince Cardan’s cheeks was burned into her skull. The guilt of leaving her sister in those infested waters wouldn’t stop pestering her. The presence of more royals only reminded her of it.

If Madoc and Vivi weren’t here, what would they do to her? Would they be worse than Cardan? Would they even do anything at all? The youngest prince wasn’t known as the cruelest of them all for nothing, so she supposes- or hopes- they wouldn’t.

Another thought flashes through her mind, derailing her hopes. What if this was them? Whatever ‘this’ was? It could be a trick.

She looks around, still finding the empty garden. Rhyia and Vivi look as confused as she feels, and the princes both have matching expressions of concentration on their faces. The similar way their brows furrow reminds her suddenly that they’re siblings- something easily forgotten with how different they are. Not that she knows anything about them, she’s never been allowed this close to them before. The only thing she knows about them stems from faerie gossip- Dain was the favoured one, the loyal one, who valued combat skills and collected knights like they were chess pieces. Her sister had wanted to join his group of knights, but Madoc had forbidden it. Taryn wouldn’t have usually suspected him as the trickster here. His brother was the more likely option- infamous for his treatment of mortals. Not that it was infamous to other’s, they saw it as a sign of power and intelligence.

This didn’t seem like a normal trick, though. Neither of them were laughing. If anything, the drawn weapons indicates that they were victims of this too, not the ones trying to hurt her. Not that Taryn has even discovered what has happened yet. 

She couldn’t help the bubble of panic in her chest. “Madoc? What’s happening?” She tries to tell herself that everything was fine but her racing heart wouldn’t listen. It pulses violently in her ears.

Shame floods in just as fast. Jude wouldn’t act like this. She’d probably have already found the culprit and challenged him to a fight or something equally crazy. Taryn wishes she was here right now.

“I don’t know,” He murmurs in reply. He crouches on the floor, inspecting the grass where it was glowing only seconds ago. The hole had closed up, leaving behind a normal patch of grass. There was no evidence that the tear had even been there in the first place. Other than her memory, which she didn’t really trust at the moment. Mortal minds were easily manipulated in fae. Even if none of the others with her looked suspicious, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t a fae who had done this.

She suddenly remembers the strange look on the king’s face. It was well known that the King controlled the elements of their land; he could have easily manipulated the earth to form like that. He’s the only one who would have the power to do so. But why?

Nothing made any sense but bringing up her suspicions would only put her in a worse position. To implicate the king in anyway would be seen as treason, and Madoc cared more about his position as general than the daughter of another man.

Vivi sighs. “Helpful,”

Madoc ignores Vivi’s comment, used to her attitude. He saw it as an insolent teenager acting out. Tayrn saw it for what it really was; a child afraid of her own father and the world that made him a murderer.

It’s a selfish comfort to know Vivi is just as afraid as she is right now. Her sister is just better at hiding it.

She suddenly spots a flash of brown hair through the bushes. Brown hair that she would recognise anywhere. It was her own, after all.

“Jude?” She pushes past the princes in a haze. In the very back of her mind, she cringes at the punishment she might face for such disrespect but she can’t help rushing to her sister. Maybe the rest of the crowd was there with her! Tayrn and the others had probably just been thrown back in some type of explosion- that would explain why she landed on her back. Besides that green gas had looked lethal, but making everyone disappear? That was too far-fetched, even for Fae.

“Jude!” Tayrn calls over the plants, but Jude doesn’t seem to hear. She rushes around the corner of the hedges, trying to find her way to Jude. Her dress snags on the sharp thorns of the bushes a few times but she lets her dress rip. She has others. She just wants to find Jude and the others so she can go home.

After a few wrong turns, she finds where Jude had been before. Her back is turned to Taryn but she’s easily recognisable. Except- distantly, Taryn notes the expensive looking dress that Jude had definitely not been wearing before. It’s more detailed than anything they own, lavish jewels sewn to cover the skirts entire length. Her hair is in a strangely intricate braid that forms two horn-shaped piles on the top of her head.

Suddenly, she’s not as sure that it is Jude, but the question escapes her lips anyway. “Jude? Is that you?”

The woman jerks in surprise, and Taryn can see that her hand jumps immediately to draw a sword that, until a second ago, she hadn’t even noticed was there.

She lets out a scream of surprise when the blade touches her throat, the point pushing painfully into her skin.

“Jude!” A voice shouts from behind her. It’s Madoc. She almost melts into him, partly because she’s trying to get as far away from the blade as she possibly can. And partly because though this woman looks like Jude, it can’t possibly be, which means that the blade at her throat could very well slice it open at any moment.

And she knows that this person, who looks like her sister in someone else’s clothes, is definitely not her sister, because this woman is pregnant.

Chapter Text

As the Queen of the Fae, Jude had learnt many lessons.

How to weald a sword while simultaneously playing with your opponent, how to recognise tricks vs truth, and even the art of diplomacy - which she counted, even if Cardan always tells her that just barely refraining from ‘accidentally’ punching Fae nobility did not count as “diplomacy”.

But one lesson, that had been taught to her simply by living in a place that despised her for being human, had stuck with her the most. When alone and being crept up on, it’s always a smart idea to draw weapons first, think later. 

It hadn’t taken many tries for that lesson to stick - the sharp sting of the flat of Madoc’s sword combined with the constant threat of the rest of the Fae population had been enough for the message to properly sink in. 

And Jude had never been particularly against the ‘Stab first, questions second’ idea. 

But she especially wasn’t taking any chances now - not since the second she’d found out she was pregnant. The thought of her baby moves her free arm move in front of her exposed stomach on instinct, her fingers snaking protectively over the material of her dress. She instantly regrets the decision to go out without protection.

But she still wasn’t afraid. It wouldn’t be hard to overcome whoever it was, with her combat skills and control over the land. Being surrounded by Fae nature gave her an upper-hand that couldn’t be matched.

Jude unsheathes Nightfell in one sudden, smooth movement and swings it round to where the footsteps sounded from. The knife is gripped tightly in her palm, ready to push to the brink of the person’s throat. Or through, depending on their business on her grounds.

Jude feels the knife-point connect with skin and stills her hand. Though she feels a little disappointed at the lack of a challenge, her lips curve into a satisfied smirk. It was almost too easy. 

When she spins around and sees Taryn at the end of her blade, she almost drops her stance, an apology on her edge of her lips. But the sight of Madoc and three supposed-to-be-dead royals stood behind Taryn stops the words in their tracks.

Her jaw hangs ajar, the aborted speech blowing out of her open mouth in a choked breath.

Madoc speaks instead. “Jude!” He lunges forwards, his sword out and ready, simultaneously pulling Tayrn back out of Jude’s reach, but not without slicing a cut on her neck. Nightfell was pressed too tightly into Tayrn’s skin not to cut it when pulled away.

Tayrn lets out a wounded sound.

Despite the confusion pulsing through her, Madoc’s sword in her face clears her mind.

Her focus narrows to him and the fight that’s about to begin, forgetting about everything else. Her arm seizes, tightening the grip on Nightfell as she swings at him. He jumps back, clearly surprised - which surprises her too. She’d expected him to return a strong parry and had over-thrust in preparation. Instead, her sword slides down his- which is held limply, the point in the ground. The drag of her sword on his makes a sharp scraping sound and she stumbles forwards as Nightfell slips down. She recovers quickly, but so does he; and they bring their swords together at the same time. She lets out a shout of exertion, both real and exaggerated in the hope her guards will hear and come to her aid.

She may be good, but six would be a challenge even for her. 

Being three months pregnant means that her options are more limited than his, so she has to move quickly if she’s going to hold out long enough for her guards to arrive. Jude quickly pulls back, and feigns downward, as if she’s about to swipe at his feet.

She couldn’t possibly make that move now - her belly would prevent her from bending - but he falls for it anyway. His sword dips low.

Her body hums with satisfaction. He taught her everything he knew, and it’s come to bite him in the ass. It would always be his downfall. 

She rushes to meet it with Nightfell stopping it from moving from the ground. At the same time, her free hand pulls out the knife hidden in her skirts and it presses into his neck.

Taryn cries out again and out of the corner her eye Jude can see a girl moving forward, a horrified look on her face - is that Vivi?

Jude suddenly feels even more disorientated, but she can’t look away from Madoc to confirm her suspicions. She can’t get too cocky.

Her gaze stays solidly on Madoc, waiting incase he makes another move against her. Not consumed with fighting anymore, her brain floods with questions.

What was Madoc doing here?

He was supposed to be in the mortal world - as was Vivi. He wasn’t even allowed in Elfhame, let alone with her sisters.

The thought of Tayrn with him made Jude’s blood run cold; was she being betrayed again?

The sound of another sword being drawn pulls her attention from Madoc and back towards the three royals that, apparently, hadn’t been a hallucination.

As they turn their weapons to her, she almost flinches, fear starting to bloom, but her eye catches on the figures behind them. Fand creeps forward, sword drawn, followed by others of Jude’s personal guard.

Her eyes flicker away, not wanting to give away the advantage her guard has. Refocusing on Madoc, Jude can’t help the rising satisfaction that rises having beating him, yet again - especially when he looks so shocked about it.

She almost laughs, but she’s not even fully certain that this is Madoc.

It was the most logical explanation for the royals to be imposters, and after having seen Madoc defeated in mere seconds, even by her, was out of character. 

Not that he was loosing his grip on his sword. Their weapons were still intertwined at her waist, his pushing upwards against Nightfell. As he pushes up, she raises an eyebrow at him and increases the pressure of her knife at his neck, as if to remind him of it’s presence. 

Her gaze shifts again, landing on the Bomb, who has her bow and arrow drawn and directed straight at Madoc’s heart.

She’s instantly relieved - her body can’t take so much strain nowadays - and she’s not as inclined to put herself in as much danger as she used to now that she’s protecting someone other than herself. 

Madoc’s gaze is still focused on Jude. His expression of utter surprise has melted into blood-boiling anger

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jude? Get that knife away from me.” He orders. The tone of his voice reminds her of her all the most awful and degrading moments of her childhood - but compulsion can’t get to her anymore and she doesn’t move. If anything her grip becomes tighter, pushing it even further to his skin. A trickle of blood slips down his throat.

“What? How is that possible?” He’s muttering to himself.

He stares at her. The look on his face is unreadable, she’s never seen anything like it, even after she banished him to the mortal world. 

“Jude, get that sword away from me!”

He attempts to encorcell her yet again, clearly not deterred by his failed effort. 

But it strikes Jude suddenly that the real Madoc would know that trying to encorcell her would fail. 

But he tried anyway. Why? She sees no way it could possibly benefit him.

A split second passes as they stare at each other. 

But it doesn’t matter anyway, as Fand makes her move and in less than a minute her guards have Not-Prince Balekin and Not-Princess Rhyia disarmed and shackled.

Dain has a spear at his throat but has yet to let go of his sword. Madoc has the Bomb’s arrow tip at his throat, allowing Jude to move the tip of her knife away. She slips it back into it’s hiding place and Nightfell returns to it’s sheath. Madoc looks furious. Taryn is crying, but all Jude feels for her is disgust.

She didn’t think that Taryn would ever side with Madoc again. They’d promised to be honest with each other and Taryn had sworn her allegiance to Jude as Queen. Jude had even thought that Taryn was as happy as her to see Madoc banished.

Apparently she had been wrong.

Jude’s eyes prick. She blinks furiously, loath to let them see any of her weakness. She wouldn’t allow any of them the satisfaction.

But the sight of Vivi at the back renders the blinking useless and her eyes well up despite her best efforts. She curses her new hormones viciously, not wanting to admit how much it effected her. She rose as a queen betrayed by those around her; she should be numb to this sort of thing by now. But Vivi? That would sting no matter what she told herself.

“Shackle them all.” Jude doesn’t allow any to slip emotion into her voice. She balls her hands into fists, the pain of her sharp nails lessening her hurt slightly. “Disarm them too.”

Fand nods.

“Jude!” Vivi’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t even know the answer to that herself. She knows it must be some type of attempt on the crown that Madoc had cooked up- apparently with Vivi and Taryn’s help. A venomous mix of heartbreak and rage simmers in her chest, but it’s hidden under her utter confusion of the inexplicable presence of the three supposedly dead Fae royalty.

Prince Dain lashes out at her guards as they struggle to clasp the shackles round his wrists.

“I’ll have you executed for this!”

Her head pounds with the overload of unexplainable shit unfolding around her.

She needs to think.

She would deal with her emotions about Vi and Taryn later - first of all, she needs to figure out Madoc’s game here and unfurl whatever plan they’ve got going, before any real damage gets done. 

And she needs to know how and why a man she had killed herself, was standing before her, next to the two siblings he murdered in cold blood for a crown that was long gone.

She supposes the latter is the more urgent of the two. 

Not-Balekin suddenly lunges for her. “You filthy mortal whore! I won’t promise a quick death for you whatever you do, but the longer you try this shit, the longer I’ll take to peel the skin off of that lovely body of yours.”

Jude’s well famed temper skyrockets and she punches him clean in the nose. He falls backwards, shouting and spitting curses at her. Dain also lets out a surprised curse, outraged at the treatment of a ‘royal’ at the hands of a mere mortal. Fand strikes him with the edge of her sword, effectively shutting him up.

But some damage has been done - her knuckles are covered in her blood and his. 

The touch of his skin had jarred her. She just touched him; a dead man. Jude cradles her stomach unconsciously, a habit she’s adopted recently.

Was this some type of Fae magic she didn’t know about?

The sound of a crazed laugh suddenly makes her realise how quiet the garden has gone. Val Moren glides towards her, his spindly hair full of sticks and the persistent laughter making him look as bat-shit crazy; as he does every time she sees him. He takes in the group with an amused, knowing look.

Her features knit into a scowl almost on autopilot. She hates every interaction she’s forced to have with him. Why he still remained in her castle was beyond her.

“What?”

“I didn’t expect this to happen today.” He smiles and she knows he’s fully aware of how vague he’s being. And how angry it makes her. Unfortunately, he also seems to realise she’s desperate enough for answers that she’ll tolerate his smugness.

“What?” She repeats, her eyes narrowing.

“Don’t you see?” He asks. “I think it’s rather obvious what’s happened here.” 

Jude’s temper flares again. “Enlighten me then.”

”Well, seeing as half of the people stood before us aren’t supposed to be here at this very time, surely you can guess.” 

Jude can tell he’s enjoying making her work for this. 

She fingers Nightfell pointedly. “I don’t have time for this, Moren.”

“They are not supposed to be here in this time because they are not from this time.”

Jude huffs - as usual everything out of Val Moren’s mouth is either mocking, insane or a waste of breath. 

Today it seems to be all three simultaneously. 

Madoc scoffs. “Impossible.”

“You don’t know what you speak of, you demented mortal.” Balekin says, seemingly having recovered slightly from his hit. A satisfying purple bruise is already blooming on his face.

The others seem to share their sentiments- expect for Taryn, who just looks scared, as always.

Moren just shrugs, the infuriatingly placid smile still stuck on his face. “Believe me, or don’t. That’s your choice, not my problem.”

Jude studies Moren.

The initial shock of such an absurd accusation was wearing off as all of the baffling events of the last twenty minutes flashed through her mind. 

For a second, she mulled over the impossible thought that his words had any weight to them at all. 

What chance was there that he was telling the truth?

It wasn’t something she’d ever heard of but neither was magic until Madoc had brought her here. Nothing seemed impossible anymore - not since she’d healed herself using the nothing but the ground of Faerie and her husband had turned into a snake.

But was travelling between times a stretch too far? The chances Val Moren was lying were high - either for amusement or to trick her for some reason. Or he’d done it for no reason at all, which seemed just as likely. 

But, his explanation would explain the three dead royals in front of her when no other possible rhyme or reason came to mind. 

But believing Val Moren’s theory brought up even more questions than answers. More questions than she has time to think about right now.

She needed time to think. 

“This is the future?” Vivi asks hesitantly. The lack of sarcasm almost makes Jude laugh in surprise. Does Vivi actually believe Moren?

Vivi was the most skeptical, always the one to call bullshit, whether it was or not.

“Jude, is it actually you?”

Jude nods, not knowing what else to do.

“Oh my god!” Vivi shouts suddenly, knocking her out of her thoughts. “If this is real, and we’re in the future, that means you’re actually pregnant!”

“When did you even get married?” Tayrn interrupts. “Who’s the father? Do we know him? Is he a mortal?” The questions stream out of both of her sisters endlessly, throwing her.

“What are you doing in the palace gardens?” This one comes from the princess.

Jude can almost feel Madoc’s stare burning into her skin as if he’s also waiting for the answer. She wonders if he thinks it has something to do with him. Did he think he’d won the crown the way he’d planned to?

She ignores all of them in favour of Moren.

Whatever was happening, she wasn’t just going to give out important information while waiting for the ax to fall.

She crosses her arms. “Moren.” He gives her a lazy smile in response. “What makes you think this is time travel? Who even says something like that is possible?”

Balekin lets out a derisive scoff. “It’s unheard of. The mortal is clearly lying.”

The locks of Moren’s spindly hair fall over his face, making his face almost unreadable. But, at that comment, a wicked smile peaks through. “Firstly, people don’t just rise from the dead,” Taryn gasps. The petulant look that Balekin had been throwing Moren’s way slid off his face. Moren’s smirk grew deeper, apparently extremely satisfied with himself.

“And secondly-“

Jude decides to shut him up then and there and grabs his arm, pulling him away from the group. She wants to throttle him. “Don’t say another word.”

“So you believe what I speak is the truth?”

“No!” She denies immediately. He stares at her in an amusement she couldn’t comprehend. “I mean- I,”

The real answer was that she didn’t know.

Which was utterly mad.

She didn’t know what else to say. Does she actually believe him? It was hard to tell. There are no other explanations being presented to her, and as farfetched as this one was, it’s the only one she has.

True or not, it was all she had to go on for now.

Besides, Vivi and Taryn both seem to believe it. She couldn’t get a read on the others, besides the basics of shock and anger. 

She let her eyelids flutter closed and takes a deep breath. She hated this - she doesn’t appreciate being left in the dark about things, nor does she like the way it allows Moren to toy with her. 

“Look, whatever I believe, if you’re right, you telling them things like that could change the course of history. You must stop.”

He simply shrugs. “And?”

She felt like a child, wanting to stomp her feet in frustration. His motives were invisible to her. It didn’t make sense - did he want one of the brothers to end up ruling? Because that’s where the future might end up if either of the Princes found out about what had resulted from the coronation. Their plans would change, new alliances would be made and Cardan would never take the throne.

The sight of Prince Dain and Princess Rhyia were clear time stamps. If Val Moren’s accusation was correct, that meant they’d come from any time before the attempted coronation. The bloodbath. Her blood goes cold, eyes travelling to Balekin. They didn’t even know they were standing next to their murderer.

If the princes were to find out that their younger brother had taken throne instead of them... they might just go back and kill him.

Her heart seizes.

“And?” She repeats. She grabs Moren by the shoulders, close enough to the neck to be assumed a threat but not too close, as she needed him to be at least marginally helpful rather than dead.

“You might not care right now, but I can assure you, I can make you.” The threat rolls off of her tongue easily. She’s got much better at this after three years of Queen of the Fae. “I am your Queen and you will act as such, or you will face the punishment of treason.”

She hopes she doesn’t have to carry out her threat as he’s more useful to her alive, but she’s killed for less so she knows she can if necessary. 

Hopefully, so does he. She needs him to realise his place before he ruins them all.

He shakes her arm off, eyes blazing in a way that sent shivers down her spine. His unspoken power scared her more than most of her other enemies, oddly enough. He had no fighting skills to speak of, nor no real position that gained him status; but he knew how to find knowledge, and he used it well.

But the fear of losing Cardan would overwhelm her own fears every time.

“You only speak to me about what you know, understood?”

He gives an exaggerated bow. “As you wish.” He’s mocking her, but as long as he agrees, she can’t bring herself to care.

Sorting out this mess is the most important thing right now, so she needs to set her mind on that instead. 

Chapter Text

Vivi wraps her hands around her waist, moving as much as the chains will allow. Tightening her grip around herself, she tries to control the tremors that wrack her body. Whether the shivers are coming from the cold or from fear she can’t tell- not that she cares too much in this moment, her mind preoccupied with the scene replaying in her mind. 

Time travel, Moren had said.

Not words she thought she’d ever hear outside of those sci-fi movies Heather likes, let alone believe them. Not that she’s sure she believes the words just yet, but her brain has yet to come up with an alternative explanation for Jude being pregnant. 

It didn’t seem real. Was this all just some fucked up dream? Her sister was pregnant and wouldn’t tell them who it was by. She wore fancy dresses that she used to have to be forced into for special occasions. And she was all alone in the palace gardens. It was like she was an entirely different person. Vivi would have expected Jude to be changed, but not this much.

She scoffs at herself suddenly. What was she talking about? Just because there was no other explanation she could think of, didn’t mean that time travel was the answer. How ridiculous.

She bites her lip uncertainly. Every thought she had was quickly followed by another question or another doubt, unsure on anything. What did this all mean? She feels like she’s being given little clues- random puzzle pieces that didn’t give her even an inkling of the full picture.

Vivi had always thought Jude had shared her distaste for the Fae, but here she was, years later, in the very heart of Elfhame. Did she have a job with the royals? Vivi couldn’t picture anything less suited to Jude. Unless she’d finally gotten the opportunity to prove herself and join Prince Dain’s cohort of knights! A burst of pride for her sister blooms in her chest. She hopes that that’s it.

She shivers again, the icy breeze no match for her summer blouse and thin trousers. They’d been out here for half an hour after Jude had left. She’d barely explained why she’d had to leave, or why they couldn’t go with her. A muttered curse of Val Moren’s name was all the clues they were given.

Madoc had tried to stop her from going, shouting and reprimanding Jude until she was out of sight. Both of the princes had demanded to see their father repeatedly. When that hadn’t worked they’d tried to overtake the guards. Unfortunately, they were overpowered by the mortal soldiers so quickly it was laughable.

Vivi, although she also wants to escape these chains, can’t help feeling smug. She’d hated how the Fae abused their ensorcelling abilities over humans for years. It seems that the mortals were finally gaining more equal footing with the fae by their obvious lack of enchantment. Vivi was used to seeing most mortals in the castle unseeing and useless but the sharp movements and wide-eyed looks the soldiers had- mortal or other wise- told her that none of them were ensorcelled.

It seemed that now, the humans stayed to serve of their own volition, rather than being trapped and forced to stay.

But why would they stay in faerie just to serve in the royal guard? They obviously weren’t enchanted into staying- so why would they? She knew there were certain charms to Faerie that enticed the humans in, but why would they stay to serve?

Maybe there was just another way to keep them loyal and docile. All the mortals had strings of rowan berries round their necks- had the fae found alternative ways to take advantage of humans?

It wasn’t just the increased use of rowan berries. Jude had resisted enchantment despite not having any salt or rowan berries to protect her.

Vivi’s head pounds. The little bits they were being fed about the future were baffling- had so much changed in so little time? It was impossible to tell the exact date they had come to but it could only be a few years, if that.

At least, in defying Madoc, a part of Jude had stayed the same. In a bizzare way, Vivienne finds the familiarity of it comforting. It gives her hope that the Jude she knew hadn’t disappeared completely. She was always so careful to hide what she was thinking. Vivi had practise with understanding Jude’s moods for years, so she could usually figure her sister out pretty quickly. But this new Jude- Vivi could hardly read her.

She’d seemed angry to see them, attacking Madoc without even faltering. She’d even won, which had never happened before. Not that Vivi didn’t enjoy the look on her father’s face when that had happened, but why had Jude felt the need to do it in the first place.

Maybe it was the pregnancy. Madoc had pointed a sword at her, Jude would have felt threatened and would want to protect her baby. That was reasonable, she supposes.

But that was only to protect Taryn, another part of her argues. She instantly wants to lock the thought away. She doesn’t want to doubt Jude, nor does she want to defend her father. It also bring up another thought; Jude had looked so furious with them all when she’d seem them together. Were they on bad terms with her now? A lot could change in- She pulls up short. If they really had time travelled, how many years had even passed?

Vivi begins to pace, biting her nails as she does. It was all just so confusing. She wasn’t even a hundred percent sure she believed the time travel theory. It had come from the palace’s notoriously crazy mortal, after all.

Doubt nagged at her, the logical part of her brain refusing to believe it. Beneath that, however, she couldn’t deny that a large part of her believed Moren’s idea. It seems like the only

Her cuffs clink as she paces. Why would Jude feel the need to lock them up like this? The soldiers surrounding them was another sign things were deeply wrong. If Jude still trusted them, why would she lock them up. Vivi knows that the others had threatened Jude, which made for some type of reasoning, but her and Tayrn were innocent in all this. And they were her sisters.

“Oh, stop it will you?” Rhyia snaps at her.

Vivi doesn’t reply but stops and goes to sit next to Taryn. She wishes she could just transport herself to the mortal world. When someone disrespected her there, she could say something back. Being friends with fae royalty came with many drawbacks and this was one of them. It was hard not to become resentful sometimes.

As if Rhyia can sense her thoughts, she sighs. Vivi can’t tell if it’s a regretful sigh or if she’s irritated by Vivi’s anger. Not many people got to openly criticise a royal Fae’s behaviour and lived to tell the tale, something Vivi despised about the royal family. Young Prince Cardan was the best example of it; his near constant state of drunkenness and open cruelty never being punished. Now there was a spoilt little brat.

“I’m sorry, Viv,” Rhyia speaks up suddenly.

“It’s okay,” It’s not, but Vivi’s not going to be the one to pick up a princess on her behaviour.

Rhyia flashes her an almost-smile, clearly appeased by Vivi’s lie but still tense. Her jaw works as her lips purse. Her brothers still rage behind her, shouting and pulling on their cuffs. Rhyia, though obviously just as angry, has always been the smart one- in Vivi’s opinion anyway. Her almost unnoticeable rage sits calmly on her soft features. She doesn’t do anything to escape her chains, but Vivi can almost see the cogs working in her brain as Rhyia stares at the cuffs.

Half of her hopes Rhyia will suddenly remember something or other about the cuffs- if they’re imbued with the king’s magic or made of some special metal- but another part of her almost hopes that Rhyia and her brothers don’t escape just yet.

Jude’s actions would be just about forgivable for Vivi after an explanation but she knew Rhyia and the princes would hold no such qualms. The disrespect Jude had showed the royals would not go unpunished, no matter what type of power future Jude now seemed to hold in court.

She bits her lip harshly, trying to suppress the direction her thoughts were headed in. It would be fine. Future Jude must have gained a higher position that would help her get away with such actions, right? She wouldn’t do anything this stupid without knowing she would have protection. Right?

As if. She groans lightly. Jude was more hotheaded and impulsive than anyone she’d ever met.

“Who do you think he meant? - Moren, I mean,” Tayrn whispers suddenly. Vivi freezes. She had been trying to ignore that comment for the past half hour. The thought of any of them being dead in a few years was terrifying- even the Princes. More so Taryn and Rhyia- and, even Madoc. No matter what she thought of him, he was her father. The thought of losing him so soon petrified her. Only a matter of years was too soon.

At least- she assumes they had only travelled a few years into the future. Jude’s face has hardly changed, and Vivi knew that mortals aged quickly and visibly. It was the one thing she hated about dating Heather; knowing she’d outlive her girlfriend by countless lifetimes.

She shakes herself. This is madness. She isn’t even fully certain that she believed this is the future. “I don’t know. Do you think he was telling the truth?”

Taryn’s lips purse. “I think so.” At Vivi’s surprised look, she continues. “I mean, what other explanation is there? That was definitely Jude and she was pregnant! What else but time could change something like that?”

“But how would he know? Besides, he’s a

Tayrn looks around nervously. “Who do you think Moren was talking about then?”

Vivi tenses. She puts her hand in Taryn and squeezes, but stays silent. She can’t give an answer- guessing is pointless, and she doesn’t want to think about anyone dying.

It’s going to happen whether you think about it or not, her mind whispers to her. She pushes it aside and stands quickly.

Jude has finally reappeared. The sight of her makes Vivi’s heart jump in relief, but the expression on her sister’s face makes it drop just as quickly as it arrived.

She looks too blank - Jude is never so expressionless. She’s the most passionate of the three of them; her emotions always heightened and open for everyone to see. Something. But this new Jude, pregnant and dressed in someone else’s clothes, has a face made of marble- an impenetrable, unreadable stranger. Vivi feels almost as if she’s staring at a passing stranger on the street, only able to wonder what’s in their mind.

And it scares her.

Chapter Text

Jude hurries through the palace halls, regretting her choice of clothing for the second time that day. She kicks at the material angrily, cursing the dress’ heavy layers.

“You.” She picks out the first servant she spots. The startled expression the servant gives her makes her realise that she’s probably acting crazy, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Have you seen Val Moren?”

The boy just shakes his head, apprehension covering his features.

“Shit,” She curses lowly. She knew she never should have let Moren walk away, but she'd been too wrapped up in her own panic. A panic which she now realises was entirely pointless. They might be fucked anyway. Only Moren seems to know about what he claims to be the so called 'time travellers’. Jude just needs to know if them being here could have already changed the future. And to find that out, she needs to know as much as Moren seems to know.

She comes to a standstill in the middle of the hallway. She doesn’t know what to do and, for once, no plan comes to mind.

It was like having a ticking time bomb left in her garden. Anyone could walk by and see the group, and three dead royals and a banished traitor would surely be enough to get the gossip mill started. It wouldn't be long before word got round the entirety of Elfhame if she wasn't careful. But on the other hand, moving them elsewhere could cause the same problem. And, if Moren's words had actually be truthful for once and this was actually the result of time travel, what could change if they were exposed to the future? She and Cardan had fought tooth and nail to get where they were today and no shortage of their win was based on timing and the luck of having the upper hand. If Madoc or the royals learnt enough about the mistakes they had made when dealing with Jude, they could easily gain that upper hand that she'd fought so hard to get. She could lose her power, which meant she could lose her entire life. Could things have changed already? Would it even be possible for things to change at all? Surely the fact that she was still standing here, unchanged, was a sign that nothing would - no matter when the time travellers returned. Logically thinking, time was linear - whenever the group left their time didn’t really matter, they’d always return to the same time. Which, whenever that was, had technically already happened for her. And nothing had changed.

The unchartered territory made her desperate to fall back into old patterns; to lash out as hard and as violently as she could, but she knew from past experience that those kinds of plans were never long term solutions. They created temporary fixes that always came to bite her in the ass. So, as much as she wanted to just grab Nightfell and simply get rid of her problem in the same way she had gotten rid of Valerian, she knew that would be monumentally stupid. And Jude didn't make those kinds of rushed decisions anymore. She's a Queen, and one who knows how to get what she wants by being calculated about it. She's learnt that. No, she wouldn't allow herself to fall back into old habits simply because the old Madoc had returned. The thoughts calm her slightly, though the feeling that she’s slowly losing her control is still spiralling in the very back of her mind. She feels the pressure of it in her chest too, like an ache that doesn't hurt but won't let up. 

She took a steady breath. Nothing was going to take her child away from her, nor was anything going to happen to Cardan or her position as queen. She wouldn’t allow it.

If Moren was going to be the vague, unhelpful bastard he always was, Jude would just have to figure this out for herself.

The door to their room is already open. Tatterfell is fussing over Jude’s vanity, polishing the jewels and hair pins strewn over the marble counter. A silvery shine catches her eye. Her favourite piece- one that Cardan had gifted to her on their first anniversary as an apology for a terrible start to their marriage. She’d kissed him and laughed it off. After having a few years to calm down, she realises that she deserved the banishment. If someone had that kind of control over her she’d probably kill them. Cardan had let her off lighter than she would have done for anyone else. Besides, her obliviousness to the loophole was entirely her fault. Cardan still teased her about that.

Tatterfell eyes her with pursed lips but doesn’t comment on whatever it is that’s on her mind, which Jude is grateful for.

She picks up a couple of sheets of paper and an inkwell and begins to write. One to Taryn, directed to what was once Locke’s manor, and one to Vivi, going to her apartment in the mortal world. Getting any sort of reply would truly prove the time travel theory- the idea of which was scarily becoming the most realistic explanation.

Another thing; if her sisters did reply, would they recount their memories of this time? Did they remember it at all? Why wouldn’t they have warned her if they did?

Whatever they had to say, she hopes Vivi will keep her letter far from the schemes of Madoc. Though he was banished, he still probably had ways to contact those in Faerie. And if he could warn his past self with knowledge of the future, it would be catastrophic. She could end up losing her crown to him after all.

She’d end up nothing, just as Valerian had predicted all those years ago.

And Cardan- their child. Her palm goes to her stomach. It was turning into a nervous habit of hers. Their happy ending had been so unlikely that even the slightest change in the past could derail it. She’d like to think that their love could over come anything, but that would just be a silly fantasy. She couldn’t rely on that alone. Madoc armed with knowledge would be a powerful deterrent. He might never allow them to get near each other and what could the power of their love do then? It wouldn’t even exist. The only way they’d built their relationship was by being able to peel back the layers of both of their dishonesty and deception. They’d go back to convincing themselves they hate each other because it was easier than admitting anything else. Cardan would go back to despising her.

She almost laughs at her despairing thoughts. There were countless other things she had to worry about, it was pointless to think such things when it was so beyond her control. She had to do something, though. Feeling powerless was something she swore she’d never allow to happen to her again. It wasn’t an option.

She felt the determination flood through her. She wasn’t the High Queen for nothing. She was going to find Cardan, and they would deal with this together. Time travel or not, she would protect him before anything else.

She stands, straightening her back and wiping her sweating palms on her dress. She gives the letters to Tatterfell. “Please send these as soon as possible.”

Tatterfell drops her cloth and curtseys, taking the letters and walking out. Jude follows her out, but takes the opposite path to Tatterfell, striding towards the centre of the castle rather than towards the exit.

When she’d woken up beside her husband this morning, Jude would never have imagined this is what her day would end up being. She hadn’t even asked Cardan where he was going to be during the today, too anxious to get to the gardens. It was always the place she went when she needed to think, so he never questioned it, simply giving her a kiss on both her lips and her rounded stomach before helping her up to leave.

She rounds the corner of the corridor of the throne room. Throwing open the doors, she immediately sees it’s empty of a few servants, all of whom drop into bows when they see her. Beyond the respectful curtsies she can she the mildly confused glances thrown her way. Despite her annoyance at not finding her husband, Jude puts on a calm expression and simply nods at the servants to continue before exiting. As soon as she’s out of hearing, she lets out a curse. Where the hell was he? The next stop is the War Room, but it's rather empty other than a few of the less relevant members discussing the few issues that don't actually require royal oversight or opinion. She leaves with a simple nod of acknowledgment as soon as she sees Cardan is missing from his usual spot at the head of the table. As she leaves, her hands work their way into the layers of her gown, her right hand coming to rest upon a now-sheathed Nightfell instinctively. Where was he when she needed him?

Jude would probably be laughing if the situation wasn’t so dire. It was ironic - ever since she had told him of their pregnancy, he would hover around her like a fly; not letting her out of his sight. But now, when she needed him the most, he was no where to be seen. 

She spots one of Cardan’s personal servants milling around at the end of the hallway, talking to another servant. She wants to run forwards, but keeps her composure and strides down the hall. She had enough on her plate without the entire palace gossiping about her. Not that she cared much for those things, a queen couldn’t get away from rumours and gossip about her, especially within her own castle full of Fae, but a rumour of desperation or weakness she wouldn’t allow. They couldn’t lie, but they could twist what they saw, which they always did.

She approaches the pair. The girl’s eyes catch on Jude’s and she fumbles with her tray and curtseys low. The serving boy lets out a confused “Elain?” and turns around, a baffled look on his face. He drops into a bow the second he sees who it is. “Your Highness,”

“Where is Cardan today?”

“His Highness is on a diplomatic visit today.”

“Ah,” Her eyebrows crease. She hadn’t heard realised he would be leaving the castle today.

She huffs out a strained breath. She supposes it’s up to her to decide what to do now. The only two people that could help her- Cardan and Moren- were no where to be found. But the supposed 'time travellers' were still outside waiting and she had to do something, and quickly. The only thing that would make this situation even worse was if someone else discovered them. She swivels round, her dress swishing noisily on the stone tiling. The serving boy and girl are still there, staring at her as if waiting for an order.

“Clear the halls.”

Whatever they were expecting it obviously wasn’t that, but they nod anyway. “Yes, your Highness,”

She takes a while before returning to the gardens, waiting until she's mulled over every possibility and scenario in her mind. She feels slightly guilty about leaving her sister's outside in the cold with the other Fae - assuming they were her real sisters - but her need for a secure plan outweighs any potential guilt immensely. 

She still can't force away the unsettled feeling that keeps cropping up by the time she reaches the gardens. It almost feels as if she’s the one who’s time travelled, thrown back into the years when it was impossible for her to be anything but weak, suffering under the silence of the uncomfortable love she was manipulated into having for Madoc. Back when she didn’t have a voice and wasn’t allowed to aim any higher than being Madoc’s little pet mortal.

She swallows the bitter memories that rise with the feeling and tightens her grip on Nightfell so harshly that her knuckles bruise a pale white colour from strain. The action dampens her uncertainty and a fresh wave of determination takes it's place. There's no need to be afraid of them here. They might think they're a threat, that they're the ones with the power or the upper hand, but she knows what she's capable of. They have nothing on her- the mortal who became the queen of the land she was stolen into.

The moment she strides back into the garden, Balekin spots her and snaps forwards as if to come at her. Only he is stopped short by the chains still wrapped around his wrists. She gives him no notice, continuing to walking up to Fand and giving the orders to send all six of them to the holding cells below the palace floors. 

As soon as she announces the order, an outcry rises from all of them. Even Tayrn seems shocked enough to be pushed to her feet.

"What the hell, Jude?" Vivi says.

"How dare you, mortal?"

"Jude! You can't-" Tayrn starts, but she can barely be heard over the outcries of the others.

"I'm sorry." And she means it. But it only seems to ignite Vivi's anger further, and fuels a plethora of questions that come tumbling out, all unanswerable of course. Tayrn, in contrary, seems to have fulfilled her quota for actually fucking doing something for the day, as she simply stares at Jude, pupils wide and unassuming with a hurt innocence that only shows Jude how young her twin is. The time travel claim was getting more and more likely the longer she stares at her sister, who suddenly seems too look years younger. Jude hadn't seen that kind of innocence in her sister in years - not since before Locke.

"Jude, stop this." Madoc orders. She doesn't want to reveal anything more but he already knows from earlier than she's now invincible to encorcelling. It's not an unfixable problem either - if she has too she can reveal her deal with Prince Dain, as a last resort. 

Balekin struggles against his restraints so roughly his wrists were probably being rubbed raw. "I don't know what you think you're doing but you won't even live to regret this as soon as my father hears about this, you got that, mortal bitch?"

Strangely enough, his attempt to scare her into submission almost makes her want to laugh and she realises that of all the people here - not counting her sisters - Balekin is now the person who threatens her the least. He's predictable to her now; she knows his secrets, having lived through the destruction his betrayal had created herself. She's pretty sure that his attempt at a coup was the only radical thing he'd ever been smart enough to pull off - not that he'd pulled it off very well. He was like who she'd used to be, the second she'd felt threatened, she would lash out, thinking that raw, rash strength would be enough to get what she wanted. But she'd learned that there was a smarter way to react, one she'd learnt off of being Prince Dain's shadow and off of tricking a king into being her puppet for a year. The people she's more concerned about are his siblings and, of course, Madoc. She knows both Dain and Madoc both have calculated minds and were ready to get their hands dirty, too. That's what made them dangerous. Even worse, from what she'd gathered about the time they were from, she was pretty sure that she was already a part of Dain's loyal shadows. He watches her now, practically the picture of serenity next to his brother, though she can see the fire in his narrowed eyes. It sets her more on edge than anything Balekin has done has, so she just ignores it for now, not wanting to give anything more away than she already has. 

She ignores Rhyia too, for no other reason than that she does not know what to make of her. Other than seeing the princess kill herself rather than crown Balekin at that bloody coronation, Jude had never had many interactions with the princess. She knows from rumour that Rhyia liked collecting talented humans, but Jude couldn't be sure what Rhyia's motives where for that or what they would become once she was thrown into a prison in what the princess thought was her own castle. Jude knows she can assume one thing about Rhyia though, as a fae - and a royal one at that - she's not someone Jude can afford to let her guard down around. Looking at her now, it's obvious she's furious and would probably rip out Jude's throat given half the chance, but that was hardly a strong reaction for a Fae. 

Balekin snatches her attention away as he squirms in his shackles, lashing out to kick Fand, who's knees buckle for a moment. 

As much as Jude knows she needs to hide the position she has now, she knows she needs to help Fand out. "You have permission to knock him out."

Fand stands at attention suddenly, and kicks the Prince in the stomach. He falls to his knees easily, allowing Fand to knock him out with the butt of her sword.

"Jude!" Tayrn gasps. "Stop whatever this is! You're going to get yourself killed when the king finds out you've done this!"

"She's right, Jude," Madoc adds, though his face is frustratingly unreadable to her. "Stop this now and we might be able lessen your punishment. Whoever's forcing you to do this will be punished, not you. Just let us go."

Not knowing what else to do, Jude ignores them all in favour of jerking her head at Fand, who reads the gesture as an order and begins hauling Balekin away. The rest of the guards follow suit with the other five prisoners. 

It's only when they're all out of sight that Jude finally let's herself breathe. 

Chapter Text

The mortal girl returns early the next morning and announces they’re being moved to the west wing chambers. She leaves immediately after the announcement, her dress collecting dust from the grubby cell floor. It’s not as extravagant as the one she had on the day before, this one more suited to her station as Madoc’s mortal ward.

It only serves to remind Rhyia that she's being commanded by someone so below her own station. She bristles. Whatever position Madoc's ward had somehow gained or whatever the circumstances, there was no way this was allowed. It was the only thought that kept her somewhat calmer; knowing that this mortal would be punished, however it was hard to control the fury she felt, shacked to the wall of a cell in her own castle, ordered around by Madoc's ward - a mortal, and a rather plain one at that. Being at the whims of any teenage mortal would anger her, but this is even more humiliating. The girl might be decent with a sword, but she was a plain little thing and had no special qualities to speak of. She’d always been talentless enough that Rhyia hadn’t taken much notice of her, only noting her as one of the two mortal girls in the General's custody. 

The other mortal girl, Talia something or other, was also plain and unremarkable in the way that most mortals were. But, unlike her sister, she was also a meek girl, and seemed to be constantly on the verge of tears; something that made Rhyia want to bash the girl's skull against the brick wall of the large cell. None of them had been particularly happy last night, being chained and pretty much left to rot, but especially Theya. Her sniffles had continued through out the night. Vivienne had tried to calm her, but Rhyia’s friend was also visibly shaken by being locked up by her sister.

Personally, Rhyia had felt that she, as a princess of Elfhame, had it worse than the mortal. It was humiliating to be ordered around by a mortal. And, in a part of her that she didn't want to admit, it worried her deeply. She'd chosen to believe that this truly was the future - there weren't many other explanations to the change in the mortal girl's body; even she knew that mortal's pregnancies took time and were hard to hide. And it wasn't as if the idea was entirely foreign to to the Fae, living on land that could be manipulated and moved at the whims of whoever wore the crown. The final nail in the coffin had been the mortal girl's reaction to Moren's announcement. Rhyia prided herself that she could read people fairly well after years of sitting back and simply watching as her brothers fought the invisible tug of war over who deserved the crown more. It was an obvious battle to anyone who truly looked, though she wasn't sure Dain was even aware of it. It came in the form of things that could be read as a natural brotherly rivalry if one wasn't looking close enough - small jabs and bringing up mistakes that were coincidentally only mentioned in the presence of their father. Not that it was of any importance now, if she was right and this truly was the future, they might find out who had won the crown after all. 

And, knowing that the winner would most likely be Dain, Rhyia decided to stick close to him. He'd agreed with her last night when she'd relayed her thoughts to him in low tones. It was easily overheard in the tiny cell but no one else butted into their conversation. Their brother was too busy cursing at the woman who stood guard at their cell door and the mortal was too busy wetting her eyes to listen. Vivienne and the General were the only ones listening but didn't seem to want to share their own thoughts. Despite, it was easy too see that Vivienne agreed with them, though she couldn't get a read on the General's thoughts whatsoever, frustratingly. 

As they’re lead down the palace hallways towards the west wing, Rhyia can’t help but notice how empty this part of the castle is. It’s clear it’s the only area that’s unoccupied, the familiar sounds of servants and people talking can be heard distantly. The moment they step into the empty hallway, the General seems to seize the opportunity and starts attacking his guard with a viciousness that only a red cap can achieve. 

Rhyia makes eye contact with Dain and moves to join as her brother does, but Madoc is on his knees in a flash. The guard's lips curl wickedly, as through she’s suppressing a laugh. Satisfaction shines in her eyes, but there’s also a rage that simmers behind that shine that Rhyia easily picks up on. She moves out of her defensive position and keeps walking. Whatever Madoc has done to earn the particular ire of this guard has nothing to do with her, but she doesn’t want to try her luck when her father’s war general was just so easily defeated. She’s not skilled enough in combat, not like Dain and Balekin are - but even they have no chance against the dozens of guards surrounding them. Especially without Madoc.

When they arrive to the west wing, Madoc's ward opens the door for them. They file in behind her and the guards fan out around them. A servant girl is already in there, seemingly doing last minute chores. She fluffs out a pillow, and some dandelion petals fall out. The room, although vastly changed, is easily recognisable as one of her father’s meeting rooms. It’s been gathering dust for years; the war room central to the castle is used more often now as it’s closer to the King’s chambers.

In her time, the space had been occupied by a large table in the centre, surrounded by chairs and floor to ceiling bookcases filled with scrolls and documents from before even her father’s reign had begun. There are 10 doors in between the shelves, which used to be used by the advisors who used the meeting room. The shelves are now filled with books and only the table and chairs remain. The servant is still stood next to one, looking at the group with a stricken look on her face.

“Your Majesty I-“ She starts, and then immediately cuts herself off, looking panicked.

Rhyia turns and scans the room, trying to figure out which of her brother's the girl was addressing. Balekin is hidden behind Madoc and Vivienne, so she it’s obvious that the girl was talking to Dain. And by the smug look on Dain’s face, he knows it too. So she'd been right: Dain would be king in a few years - assuming that's how much time had passed. 

Now, she wondered quietly what would happen to her once Dain was crowned. She’d never given it much thought before.

Dain moves as if to reply, but Jude cuts him off. “If you could just put that bedding where it belongs, you can leave, Kara.” She says, with the sort of softness Rhyia hasn't seen from the mortal before.

The girl bobs into a curtsey and then freezes. She jerks up quickly, a forced smile on her lips. She then curtseys to the group, her eyes on Dain as she does so. But before leaving she looks at Jude. The mortal gives her an almost imperceptible nod, as if giving her approval. As soon as she sees the nod, the servant girl leaves, relief written on her face.

Rhyia watches the girl go. She doesn’t know what to make of that. Figuring out this future is turning out to be more complex than she had first anticipated. 

Especially that mortal girl- Jude. She was frustrating Rhyia the most of everyone they'd come across here, not that they'd had the opportunity to meet many others. Rhyia couldn't figure out what Jude's role in the castle could possibly be that a servant would curtsey to her. Or that she had the power to put Fae royalty into the cells and command the palace guards. Was this what it was like in the future? Did mortals have the power to lock up Fae? Were they no longer under the Fae's control? The way Jude had resisted Madoc's encorcelling attempts without wearing any Rowan berries suggested it was maybe so. Rhyia feels horrified by the idea. The notion that this mortal could have an important position in the castle- and one that would demand the respect of a curtsey at that - was bad enough. 

Jude walks into the middle of the room and turns back around to them, to address them. Rhyia notes that her hand goes to her rounded stomach as soon as she faces them. “This is where you’ll be staying until further notice.”

Balekin, obviously still not having grasped the hopelessness of their situation, laughs. Rhyia refrains from rolling her eyes; he always was an overconfident bastard. They were in chains, for fucks sake, and this mortal was somehow immune to being enchanted. In other words, they have no power anymore. 

Dain is apparently also in a cocky mood. “You can’t keep us here.” Or maybe just too angry to care anymore. She can tell by the way he spits the words that his frustration is simmering, ready to boil over at any moment. Combined with the recent revelation of his successful succession to the throne, he's in a dangerous mood. “As your king, I command you to let me go.” The power of enchantment weaves through the words.

This time, Rhyia really does roll her eyes. Even Dain could be ridiculously dense at times. They’d already seen the mortal resist enchantment multiple times, there's obviously no point in trying to encorcell her now. And he has the gall to look surprised. “But, I-“ He stutters uselessly.

Balekin interrupts again. “King?” He spits. “You’re not king yet, brother.” He laughs, though it’s hollow and malicious and Rhyia can tell he’s seething. Though Rhyia understands his anger somewhat, it's been completely misdirected from the girl who was keeping them captive. Even more, it wasn't like it was a secret that Dain was favoured to be the next in line - even if Balekin took every opportunity to challenge that - so she couldn't really fathom why his anger was suddenly manifesting itself so violently about something so assured.

Dain doesn’t even deign his brother with a reply. He’s always seen himself as superior to their siblings, a reason for which she doesn't much bother with Dain most of the time. Other than now, but she needed the protection he afforded in this current state. He focuses back on Jude. “How?” He demands. “How can you resist my enchantment?”

She doesn’t say anything, her face blank. Rhyia notes the specification of ‘my’. He was the only one unsurprised by the mortal’s immunity to Madoc, but when it’s him he seems as if in denial.

Her lips purse, but she doesn't stop watching the scene that is unfolding before her.

He growls, but thankfully seems to realise he won’t get an answer and that there’s not much he can do about that, in chains and powerless.

Madoc chooses this moment to speak up. “Jude, stop being ridiculous. We’re going to find out about the future soon enough. We already know that Dain is king now, thanks to that servant.” Jude’s face contorts, her lips tipping up at the corners as if she finds something amusing- Rhyia can’t imagine what it is, but mortals always were odd creatures. It changes to resentment just a quick as Madoc continues. “It’s illogical to think you can shield us from anything, stop being ridiculous.”

“I know,” She says. “But that's not the only thing that’s changed. We should try and preserve as much of the future as possible.”

“Jude- please, Jude- I know you can’t let us see anything, but you can’t-“ The other mortal is whimpering, pleading with her sister. Jude says something back but her voice is soft and Rhyia doesn’t care enough to listen in.

“Well, as your king, I say differently.” Dain says.

Jude just looks at him. She seems tired.

Indignation burns in Rhyia's chest. She should try being the one handcuffed and being ordered around by someone lesser than herself.

She feels furious again all of a sudden. It's as if she’s being treated like a child, by a mortal. The hint of humour that had graced the girl’s lips made it even more degrading. It was even more humiliating than the chains.

Being dressed down by a mortal, if only their father could see them now. The mortal had practically said ‘because I said so’ to Fae royalty.

Madoc is having similar thoughts, if the displeased look on his face is anything to go by.

Jude leaves, ignoring her brother’s furious shouts to come back. Madoc even tries to run forwards and reach for her but one of the guards stop him in his tracks, shoving the rounded end of their spear into his stomach. He falls to the floor with an ‘oof’, his cuffed hands stopping him from being able to break his fall. The door closes behind Jude and they can hear the sound of a lock clicking. The ten guards remain in their room. One brings out a key and begins to unlock their handcuffs. The others have their weapons pointed at the group, assuring that no attempted breakouts occur. When it’s her turn to be unshackled she glares at the guard, baring her teeth.

The guard doesn’t seem scared by it or find it funny as the mortal seemed to find them all. Instead her gaze shines on Rhyia's face with what seems like sadness as they look at her. An uncomfortable chill settles in her spine.

The cuffs are piled up into the arms of one soldier. Another steps forward. “As Jude said, you will stay in this wing for the moment. You will each have private rooms with keys. Bathrooms are attached. Food will be provided through out the day.”

Her brothers and Madoc look furious. The mortal looks afraid - as usual. If she starts weeping, Rhyia thinks she might slap her.

At least that would provide them with something of interest. It seems they’ve been left with nothing to do but read or make their own entertainment and mortals always were the most fun to toy with. Especially ones like Madoc's weaker ward.

Vivienne swears loudly at the guards as they leave. They all see Jude waiting beyond the door and Vivi leaps towards the open door. “Jude, what the fuck? I understand, okay, but you can’t just lock us in here!” The door closes. “Jude!” She’s making a racket, shouting and cursing and banging on the door.

Rhyia, though she loves her friend, despises the humanness of this display. Balekin joins in, raging around the room, tearing books off the shelves and kicking the furniture around. She rolls her eyes at her brother. He was the most mortal of them all, lashing out for no other reason but anger. It was no wonder Dain was favoured for the crown.

Though she’s just as angry as them, she’s smart enough to know that they’re not getting out of the room before tomorrow. She grabs one of the keys and tries it in multiple doors. It works in the third one. The mortal is doing the same, but Rhyia can assume that it’s weakness rather than intelligence that made her want to retreat to a room.

The room is only acceptable to her usual standards, but after spending the night in a cell, she's exhausted enough that she can't even muster the effort to care. She goes in and closes the door behind her, leaving Balekin to rage and General Madoc and Dain to begin speaking in hushed tones at the table. She hopes by the time she wakes up tomorrow, they'll have a plan to get everything back to normal.