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Chapter Text

A few seconds before she left.

“I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life.“

Looking back at his words, Cardan had to admit they sounded a little bit overdramatic. Given the circumstances he had had every right though, considering Jude murdered his brother. After all, his queen had seemed to keep one last secret to herself. Surely, he had been a tiny bit annoyed. Now he had shown her, that he wasn’t the fool everyone saw in him. He had shown her, that he could trick her too. Oh, Jude would be furious after she cracked his little riddle. Cardan pictured her before him, knive glinting at his throat, outrage at him and herself flashing in her brown eyes. He was looking forward to it.

Waiting truly wasn’t one of his strenghts.

Three Weeks and two days since she left.

Cardan was lounging on one of the many cushioned chairs in his chambers, feet perched high upon his desk. Tiredness was weighing down his bones, the endless meetings and alligations he’d had to endure wearing at him. Finally, finally it was settled. The Undersea would be an ally, not a threat anymore. Possibly it was a good thing Jude still hadn’t come back. Atleast she was safe in the mortal world. Queen Orlagh was a fickle person, who knows how she would have reacted upon Judes sudden return. Her being his queen. Eventhough Cardan admittetly felt the absence of her councel and presence beside him.

His feet slid from the smooth surface of his writing desk, nearly knocking the inkpod to the ground. Reasonibly he should write Jude a short message, Cardan supposed. Merely to notify her about the current situation. Definitely not because he was growing impatient. Most definitely not because he wanted her back here now. Highly beringed fingers smoothed out a new, crisp white sheet of paper on the oak wood. Simply a short letter. Nothing overwrought, keeping it simple. The quill was heavy in his hand. Who knew a feather could feel so heavy? Ink tainted the white a deep blue.

“Dear Jude…“

No. She likely was still infuriated with him for tricking and humiliating her in front of the Folk. Cardan might as well burn the letter himself. Or worse…, a tiny voice in his head wispered. What if she hadn’t figured it out by now. He silenced it with an impatient gesture of his hand. Then one better reason to write to her. But she surely had found the trick in his words by now. Jude was always scheming, always so rational. She probably had analysed everything right away and was simply occupied with planning the best way to get back at him. Already growing annoyed, Cardan tossed his unfinished letter to the ground. Took out another slip of paper. Started anew.

“Jude,“ he wrote. „You are perhaps being…“ He pondered over a fitting expression for a few moments. Eventually deciding on “overcautious“. The next part was easier, just simple facts, kept as short as Cardan possibly was able to. His hand paused, hovering over the parchment. Signing it was rather tricky. He wanted to assure her, he was anicipating her return, or at the very least, her reply. Cardan settled for “expectantly“, which wasn’t too poor in his opinion. Dawn had already arrived, lightening the dark corners enclosing him. With the first rays of the sun he reread his missive a final time:

Jude,

You are perhaps being overcautious,

but I am writing to inform you that all

is settled between the Undersea and Elfhame.

The treaties are signed in sea-foam and blood.

Expectantly,

Cardan

He had written worse already. Before he could make up his mind otherwise he sent it away, staying up far after noon, his thoughts not willing to quiet down.

Four weeks and four days since she left

Cardan woke with a start. Sitting up in his bed, he looked around, vision still fuzzy from sleep. There- was the shadow moving? “Jude?“, he called out into the quiet of his bedchamber, like almost every night since he’d sent that damned letter. Jude hadn’t come back yet, not before, not now. He hated her for it. For making him wait. For making him anticipate her in every dark corner, in every glint of silvery steel. And he hated her all the more for her presumptuousness to not even bother with a reply. Irritated, he shoved away his heavy blankets, making his way to one of the great windows. The first stars had barely emerged. Very well. If his queen wanted to punish him, let her. Soon enough she would tire of the mortal world. She belonged here, to Faerie. To him. Perhaps it was the fool in him speaking, but he couldnt recall any better reason why she would stay away from the one place she fought so hard to fit into. Jude was no one to simply give up, he reminded himself, not without a tinge of worry though.

Cardan came to halt in front of his desk then. He hadn’t even noticed himself running in circles around his chambers, as if he ultimately had lost the last part of his sanity. Doubtlessly he was doing great. Cardan needed Jude by his side, even if only to go back to his careless, foolish self. Worrying was tremendously tiresome. Assuming she still was very much angry with him, Cardan figured he might as well accommodate her a little bit. If Jude needed a more forward way of telling her that she should come back as soon as possible, he could manage that too. Not even bothering to take a seat, he ripped out a piece of paper from one of the many drawers, quill already in his right hand. Cardan began with her name like in the last letter, still attempting to keep this one as simple and short. He was rather pleased with himself after reading through it. This letter was hinting at his feelings, without showing too much of them. He supposed that was ideal, as ist summed up their relationship quite well.

Jude,

Since I cannot imagine there is much in the human

lands to interest you, I can only suppose your

continued absence in Elfhame is due to me.

I urge you: Come be angry at a nearer distance

Cardan

He had left out the “expectantly“ this time, considering the last line was somewhat begging her to return to Elfhame. Cardan stared at the slip of paper in his hands. Maybe he should personally deliver it. Probably apologize. Jude would shout at him, being too stubborn to come home with him, and eventually give in. She was the Queen of Elfhame after all. Unless,…Unless, she didn’t want to come back at all, Cardan thought in horror. What if she was ignoring him, not because she was outraged, but because she truly liked the mortal world better. Possibly she had found someone new. Perhaps she didn’t need this anymore. As unlikely as this possibility was, it stopped Cardan in his tracks. He wouldn’t cloud her judgement, he wouldn’t force her to decide anything. But he would keep sending her letters, Cardan resolved. Less invasive. He would wait. But his patience was already worn as thin as a spider silk thread, with solely his second missive sent away.

Six weeks and six days since she left.

The wine made him feel dizzy already, yet, he couldn’t seem to cease drinking. As well as he didn’t seem able to stop watching. Cardan was lounging sideways on his throne, overseeing a revel honoring his new treaty with the Undersea. He would have preferred war now, speaking that Jude wouldn’t have had to leave. Instead he was watching her sister and Locke dance, both spinning in endless circles that made his head hurt. Somehow Cardan couldn’t tear his gaze away. Taryn almost looked like Jude. But his queen was far more radiant, always confident in the way she moved, and most importantly, hadn’t settled for a vile creature like his Master of Revels. Locke grazed Taryns jaw, leaning in to press little kisses on her throat. That was when Cardan decided he tired of the revel and left, not without taking the wine with him.

After the doors were shut tight behind him, he released a long breath. Cardan didn’t want to go to his chambers, to the awaiting emptiness, reminding him further of Judes continued absence. He took another turn instead, stumbling into the direction of her rooms. He hadn’t allowed anyone in here since she’d left, himself included. The small chamber was as messy as he recalled. Papers and books littered every surface, as well as various weapons and piles of carelessly discarded clothing. Cardan took it all in, washing away the wave of feelings with a swig of faerie wine. Without him really noticing, his finger lifted, tracing long dry letters on some correspondences. Judes scent still clung to everything, its earthy smell creating an illusion. Cardan imagined her walking in any given moment, yelling at him what he was doing in here. It felt so real, that he couldn’t help but steal an expectant glance at the closed door. Of course it remained shut. Jude was playing mind games with him and she wasn’t even present. Cardan hated it. And he hated himself for letting her leave because of his pride. How dare she stay away for so long. It took him a while to find an unused slip of paper and some not dryed out ink for another letter, but Cardan didn’t mind. Furthermore he didn’t mind that he was writing on her chair rather than her desk, but he didn’t want to disarrange anything. So the chair it was.

“Jude-,“ he began again, promptly spilling some of his wine over the page. Displeased, he tossed it to the floor. Several others followed, nothing sounding right in his ears. He appeared much too formal. Then too accusing. Too much like the High King. But he didn’t want to be just the High King of Elfhame to her. Perhaps, he ought to sound like that too. Cardan was tired of waiting.

Jude,

You are in no mood for games. Very well.

 I am in no mood for them, either.

Let me write it outright: You are pardoned.

I revoke my banishment. I rescind my words.

That was straightforward enough, Cardan guessed. It was quite passable, considering he was drunk. But something kept him from signing it. The letter was outright, yes. But enough?

Cardan straightened, swaying as he made his way to the single window. He squinted up into the endless night sky, The stars were mocking him, taunting him with the memories of Jude and him beneath them. They were probably watching her from up there, observing every move he could not. She wanted to see how sorry he really was? She wanted to see him beg and grovel? He really didn’t mind anymore. She was the single one person whose thoughts about him mattered to Cardan. The only person whose opinion Cardan cared about. He wouldn’t loose her because of something as pride. He had watched Jude being suffocated by it. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. Cardan didn’t care about his pride anymore, he wanted his queen back. He wanted his Jude back. With all this emotion churning inside of him, begging to be released, Cardan strode back to his letter. Quickly draining the bottle to the dregs, carelessly tossing it to the rest on the ground. The letters were dancing in front of his eyes, mocking him like the stars. He righted them with several squints of his eyes. Even the paper was appearing a bit unsteady by now, making it difficult to remain in a straight line. Cardan was beyond caring about that too.

“Come home“, he wrote bluntly.

And then again. And again and again. Cardan hadn’t known his heart could ache like that. Faeries couldn’t lie. Never before had he wished more for his words to become as true as he ment them to be.

Come home and shout at me. Come home and

fight with me . Come home and break my heart,

if you must.

Just come home.

 Not being as delusional as calling himself her anything, Cardan ended simply with his name again. Nothing more, nothing less. He blamed the wine for the stinging in his eyes, as he passed out on the crumbled paper littering the floor.

Eight weeks and one day since she left.

Cardan knew about being rejected. Since his early childhood no one had ever loved him enough to truly care for him. He almost laughed at the idea. So he knew about rejection. Cardan had assumed, that by now he would be accostumed to the sharp sting of it. And yet, after not recieving a single word from Jude after that last letter he underwent a whole new understanding of hurt. He despised her for making him feel like this. For making him feel things at all. He wasn’t angry anymore, he wasn’t hopeful anymore. He just was what he was best at- foolish.

But he was trying. Perhaps this all was a great test. He understood that Jude didn’t trust him. It was her good right to doubt, if he was earnest, if he’d ment what he’d put into words for the first time. Cardan would show her how serious he was, and how exasperated by the unreasonable way she was behaving right now. Yet, some of his hurt seemed to bleed onto the page along with the dark ink. Though he doubted it could get any worse than her silence after his third letter. So he sent it onto its way, alongside his last dregs of the foolish hope he only had when it came to her.

Jude,

Not even responding to my missives is ridiculous

and beneath you and I hate it.

Cardan

Ten weeks and three days since she left.

Enough was enough. Nothing seemed to be sufficient for Jude. Nothing he’d done. There was one card left he hadn’t played yet. Perhaps because Cardan was afraid. The truth of his feelings and motives was the only thing he could offer her anymore. And he was desperate and foolish enough to hope it would be enough. But for the first time in his life he didn’t know how to express himself. How to express feelings. Through words. A whole letter.

 That was why he was sitting on the soft moss upon the cliffs of Insmire, the only things with him writing supplies. No more wine. It was quiet around him, except for the soft rocking of the waves benath. Cardan was all alone with his thoughts. Just him surrounded by his land. Eyes and thoughts on his Queen. “But I’m the Queen of Faerie,“ Judes words echoed in his mind, the desperation in them. “Deny it then. Deny me.“ Cardan closed his eyes at the memory. It had been cruel to refuse her in front of the entire folk. Perhaps Jude had gathered the impression, that he hadn’t ment it, that she wasn’t his queen. But she was. The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. Cardan would tell everyone once she returned, he vowed to himself. That she was his wife. With great deliberateness he wrote his first words.

To the High Queen of Elfhame,

Cardan looked up. The stars weren’t mocking him tonight. They were encouraging him, them and the moon. Glittering, just like the knife she’d held to his throat. Before she’d kissed him. He desperately was missing her. Hiding was non negotiable.

Above me is the same silvery moon that shines

Down on you. Looking at it makes me recall the glint of your

Blade pressed against my throat and other romantic

moments.

There she had hit. His truest, deepest thoughts. Now that he knew he could do it, Cardan barreled on.

I do not know what keeps you from returning to the High Court-

That wasn’t entirely true. Either it was him- and she hated him for his little trick rather than admire him- or…she actually tired from Faerie. Cardan could genuinley understand it. No one had been kind to Jude, or given her a reason to stay. Cardan thought she wanted power, but perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps Jude had wanted peace. He hoped his letter could give her that. He hoped, then she might return.

-whether it is vexation with me, or whether,

having spent time in the mortal world, you have come

to believe that a life free of the Folk is better than one

ruling over them.

What if this still isn‘t enough? Cardan thought. What if her hate for him got so tremendous, she never wanted to see him again. What if Jude really had turned her back on Elfhame. He was frightened, Cardan realised. Terrified even, at the thought of never seeing her again. Never is forever- his own words. He’d been staring at the slip of paper for so long, that the ink of his quill had left tiny droplets at the bottom of the page. A litttle speckeled pattern. Cardan didn’t bother to start over. What he had to say was most important.

In my most wretched hours, I believe you will never

Come back.

Why would you, save for your ambition?

Precisely. Why would she? Most definitely not for him, Cardan wasn’t that delirious. Jude had seen right through him, into his rotting, ugly core. And yet, it would have been pleasant. He knew she must despise him. Even though it somehow had felt as if Jude was starting to care for him, these feelings very likely had been diminished after the exile. Cardan wanted to believe that she had married him for other reasons than just power. He knew he was being foolish but he always was when it came to her. It didn’t matter anyway. It had become clear Jude was moving on. And Cardan wouldn’t do anything to hold her back, despite continuing to write his letters.

You have always known exactly what I am and seen all

My failings, all my weaknesses and scars. I flattered

myself that at moments you had feelings for me other

than contempt, but even were that true, they would

make a thin gruel beside the feast of your other,

grater desires.

Cardan atleast knew that she had desired him, as he desired her. He had been certain after they had made out behind the dais. But he knew he wasn’t enough. He was no easy person to love. Everyone that he had cared for, everyone he wanted to love him, had left. Abandoned by his own mother. Cheated on by Nicasia. And now Jude had left him too.

And then it hit him. This wasn’t just desire. It hadn’t been for some time now. Cardan stared at his feelings, turned into inky words. That’s what that was- a love letter.

There was no point denying it. And Cardan wanted her to know. Wanted her to know that she wasn’t just a game to him, that this realization had been dawning since she had been imprisioned by the Undersea. Only now he was courageous enough to acknowledge it. Too late.

and my heart is buried with you in the strange

soil of the mortal world, as it was drowned with you in

the cold waters of the Undersea.

He had been standing atop the cliffs, not far from here, staring into the depths of the sea, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Now he was sitting atop similiar cliffs, trying to sneak a gaze at the mortal world. Because he was a coward. Always avoiding his feelings, trying not to get hurt. Now this avoidance had hurt him more than anything else ever could.

It was yours before I could admit it, and yours it

shall ever remain.

Ever as in forever. There was no one like Jude. He knew his feelings were very unlikely to be returned. It didn’t matter for now. As long as his queen would come back. Cardan hesitated to sign it. He had never made himself that vulnerable before.

He was hiding again, failing to muster up enough courage to send his letter away. The edges were already worn, from carrying it around with him the last few days. Cardan wasn’t ready yet, for her answer- or worse the nothing that could follow. Each day he grew more miserable, until he couldn‘t take it any longer. Rereading it for what felt like the millionth time he finally gave it away. That was his last letter, and he sent his heart with it.

 Jude was worth it.

Cardan was sitting on the cliffs again. Staring at the faint lights of the mortal world, turning on one after another. He suddenly felt helpless on his side of the ocean. This letter was everything. A confession. A promise. A plea. If this didn’t effect anything, he had to make the hardest decision since becoming the High King of Elfhame: Letting Jude go. Cardan sat there until the last one of the lights went out.

Thirteen weeks and two days since she left.

He was selfish. Of course Cardan was well aware of that fact, he hadn‘t been a prince of Faerie his whole life for nothing. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not after he finally had had the courage to pour out his heart. It didn’t really matter, it was hers after all. His head was spinning in wild circles. Perhaps it was all the wine he couldn’t stop drinking, or the mix of emotions he didn’t want to sort through. He felt like he was drowning in his feelings, instead he drowned himself in gallons of wine. And still. STILL. HE COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT HER. Jude was everything he saw in front of his eyes right now. Her sharp brown eyes. The curve of her ear. Calloused fingers tracing his skin.

“Jude“, he drawled,“Jude, Jude, Jude.“ He scrambled for a piece of paper, blindly grabbing for ink and quill. With his head against one of the desks‘ legs, everything else wildly strewn around him, Cardan began to write. Nearly carving the same word over and over again, already brandished into his mind.

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.

He pressed his quill so firmly against the paper it broke, leaving big splotches of ink, smeared not only on the sheet but on his hands, his cheeks. Feverently he searched for another, spilling half his inkpod over the page at his return. He didn’t care. It was only one word he wrote, one person that troubled his thoughts.

Jude.

He was empty without her. A new word took shape, a word he had never used in earnest before.

Please Jude.

And then nothing.

Chapter Text

A few minutes before she returned

Locke was dead. Cardan would be lying to say he was particularily sad about this turn of events. Considering he couldn’t, he kept this opinion to himself. Whispers were, that Taryn had killed him in cold blood. They really had deserved each other. Cardan bet Locke hadn‘t foreseen this twist of his tale. His story was very much over. Surprising as it was, Taryn had seemed to grow a backbone after all. That speaking, in the case of her actually murdering him. And not Jude. Cardan knew she was more than capable of it. But he‘d be more than a little bit offended, if she had rather returned for killing Locke, than him. While he was barely managing with her absence. Cardan supposed he was about to find out.

The Brugh was bustling with anticipation, the crowd hoping to witness yet another mortal getting punished. Cardan wished he wouldn’t have to send another Duarte daughter into exile. One probably out to murder him was more than enough.

The Folk turned their heads at Taryns arrival, surrounding her with greedy eyes, as she pushed through the crowd. Then she was near enough for Cardan to spot anything else than the crown of her head.

Her sight was like a punch to the gut. Cardan blinked. Once. Twice. It took every wretched second of his training to keep his face in his usual indifferent mask.

Jude. Not Taryn. Not Taryn making her way to the dais in a bronze dress. Not Taryn coming to halt in front of him. His queen finally had returned. Cardan wanted to shout at her. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to get down on his knees, begging her not to leave. Beseeching her to stay. She still hadn‘t looked at him. Denying him the familiar brown eyes that kept haunting him for so long. She still appeared even more breathtaking than the images his mind had conjurned. Cardan somehow found his voice again.

“Taryn?“ He nearly laughed. This was ridiculous. He had recognized her the second he‘d laid eyes upon her. Jude could have worn as many scarfs and gloves as she liked. It was her in the way she threw her shoulders back as if ready for battle. It was Jude, in the way she placed her feet. Long deliberate strides, yet each step was placed carefully, calculated. Even the way her hands moved at her sides was imprinted in his mind. Cardan had ached for this moment since she’d gone into exile. And now she’d returned. Yet, she still felt miles out of his reach, even though standing mere feet away. There was nothing he‘d like to do more than just dismiss everybody. Close this last distance. Talk to her. Getting the answers to the one thing over which he nearly had lost his sanity the past months. What about my letters?

 But he couldn‘t. Not yet, without endangering her sister. Without knowing, what game his queen was playing. Jude lifted her head. Her burning eyes like the answer to a long, simmering question. Cardan couldn‘t help his lips turning into a nervous smirk, not with the intensity of her gaze fixed only on him.

"Your Majesty.“ Judes familiar voice washed over him. He was drowning in the sound of it, letting it cleanse him of the last dregs of doubt. It was really her. Cardan responded with some platitudes he‘d prepared for Taryn. He just needed to get this over with, and then…Nicasia’s taunting voice cut through his thoughts.

 „Do you really think she‘s sad?“

No, clearly not. More like furios, judging by the way Jude was currently glaring at Nicasia. He had to surpress his smile at the familiarity of the situation.

"Did you kill Locke yourself? Or did you get your sister to do it for you?“ Now they were getting to the interesting bit. Even though Cardan knew Jude could lie as effortlessly as wield a sword. Not to mention the fact she was resistent to glamour.

Realisation dawned. Perhaps that was the reason she was here, in Taryn’s stead. Not because of him. This thought stung but Cardan would take whatever chance he’d get to make this right. He was done waiting. Though he had to do it just a little longer.

"Jude is in exile.“ The silky menace of his wifes voice was full of mockery. "And I‘ve never hurt Locke.“ Two lies, mere seconds apart. Truly, it was a little bit unsettling to witness. Cardan leaned forward on his throne. He desperately needed to talk to her, preferriably alone. But first he had to finish this off. He settled for a simple "No?“ as an answer.

For the Folk it was ment to seem like a question. To her it was an answer. We both know you‘re not in exile. Never really have been. She glowered at him with a look in her eyes he couldn't quite decipher. Her words in return were torture, making him mourn Lockes death even less.

"I lov..“, Jude began with a pressed voice, eventually choking out a simple "I loved him.“ It somehow hurt to hear her say these words. They might not be the truth, but the mere thought of her loving Locke was infuriating. Cardan recalled the way Jude had lit up whenever Locke had been near, all that anger suddenly gone. Before all the betrayal of course. Maybe that had been love. Perhaps it was selfish, but Cardan wanted her to like, or even love him. To return his feelings. But this fantasy was so absurd he had banished it into the very back of his mind.

"Sometimes I believed that you did, yes“, he sayed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Enough. He was behaving foolish. He would make haste to finish this.

"But you could well be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.“ The magic simmering in Cardans hands was useless. He knew of Dains gease, had bet on that. Still it was shocking to listen to Jude lie outright as the interrogaten proceeded further. The Brugh quieted at his- hopefully- final question.

"Did you murder Locke?“ He already knew the answer.

"No.“ Noise piped up again, the Folk being delighted by this unexpected twist. Nicasia had gone back to accusing Jude again, facing Cardan as if for support. He had to admit, it was fun playing this game with Jude, one only the two of them knew off. Cardan had missed talking to her. He drew his brows together, feigning confusion or rather annoyance.

"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.“ Or rather had made her thoroughly stay away from Cardan to torture him. He doubted Jude had ever been deterred by anything at all. The gaze she fixed him with could have cut steel. A- not unpleasant- shiver ran down his spine. His queen couldn’t possibly have thought she would pass as Taryn.

They continued their little game- question, answer, question, lie, until his mother- much to his distaste- also needed to weigh in her own opinion.

"She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.“ Cardan didn’t interupt her, genuinely curios of Judes answer. She opened her mouth. Instead of the words spilling out, she might as well have thrown stones at him.

"Jude never loved Locke.“ Relief overcame him at first, quickly replaced by shock. "She loved someone else. He‘s the one she‘d want dead.“

All the air had been sucked out of his lungs. It was a torture to breathe, to wrap his mind around her words. There had been no one else after Locke, no one Cardan knew off. Except himself. Which ment it was possible, that Jude…had loved him. She had loved him. And he had lost her with his self-inflicted foolishness. He was always ruining everything. Cardan had never loathed himself more. It just was too much. He couldn’t bear it anylonger. His throat was too dry, longing for wine, for something. He yearned to drown his thoughts into oblivion. But Jude was here. Right in front of him. He would get to speak to her. He would put things right. And this time he wouldn’t let her leave.