Jurdan in the Mortal World

The Crown and the Queen

(A/N: hi. i'm proud of myself for updating, considering there are so many more fanfics i want to make. i even have an idea for an original story. 

self promotion time!-it's all going to be on my other account, so if you are a fan of random fanfics, crappy writing, and problems solved in the worst ways possible, you can search up iliveformybooks. it's the same person, don't worry. oh gods oh gods it was 69 words i glanced up and it was 69 words oh gods oh gods oh ghezen saints save me 69-

sorry. stay safe and try to exercise some more. i know i look like a bloated potato and i don't want you to have to go through it too. comment and vote, i read all of your comments (so far) and everything you say makes me laugh.

warning: the mood change is going to make you laugh.)

I cried. I cried because of the mortal life that I had a taste of and somehow missed, like faerie fruit of a different level. I cried because their lives seemed so happy, careless, floating among the clouds. 

I didn't have the energy to be angry at fate, or whatever gods out there. I didn't have the energy to be angry because my life was so other. So...not. So...not human.

No matter what my physical form was, I would always be Faerie at heart. I didn't think I could go back. That's what fueled me at first, my anger at everyone and everything that knew where they belonged. 

But I love them now. I don't have the heart to be angry, only tired.

So, so tired. (aha, SJM fans you see what i did there? completely unintentional btw)

We arrive in Faerie as the sun rises, making good time. The ragworts sink back into stalks as soon as we get off, suitcases hitting the ground with a hard thump. 

Cardan doesn't say anything about my remaining tears, just picks up both suitcases and heads into the palace. I head in silently after him, closing the door to our room behind me. 

Too exhausted to do anything other than undress and slump into the bed, I do exactly that, Cardan following suit.

Right when my eyes sink closed and sweet, oblivious sleep takes me into its embrace, I feel a feather-light touch on my waist. I sleepily register it as Cardan's arm, which pulls me in by the waist and holds me comfortingly.

"I never knew you were one to comfort," I mumble, the remnants of my tears crusted over on my face. Cardan reaches up and wipes them away, resting his chin against my head.

"Everyone needs it sometimes."

It's a silent prompt to go on, to keep talking. "I think...back when I wanted to be a soldier, I took my unbelonging as a fire, rising and rising as my hate for myself grew.

I hated myself for not being able to belong. But instead of fixing that, I directed it at what I wanted to be. What I could be.

So I dedicated my whole self to being a soldier, and way inside, I hated everyone. I hated all those who thought they could belong, those who did belong."

That might be a reason to why I punched that guy at the mall.

"Because I utterly, completely, did not belong."

Cardan just pulls me closer. "I didn't belong either. My mother treated me like a toy, a pet, a new form of entertainment. Played with, then forgotten. Played with once more, and thrown away. Fished out of the trash can when you remember about it, care for it, adore it. Throw it in a corner of the room after you get bored of it."

I'm shocked. Those are probably the most words he said about his mom or his past.

"My siblings didn't treat me much different, and after the prophecy, my father was afraid of me. It grew between my family until I didn't belong either.

But instead of directing that hate towards a dream of what I could be, I decided I could make everyone like me. Just like me. Not belonging. I had enough power, enough influence. So I treated everyone like shit.

But the people I mostly treated like shit were the people like you. Who did not belong but seemed completely fine with it. I hated that because I was so jealous."

I squeeze his fingers in reply. 

Cardan has never held me, or tried to comfort me. It's hard. To do this, be here with him. Taking off my armor. 

"Just know..."Cardan trails off, having apparent trouble with vocalizing this. "Just know-just know that wherever you want to belong, I can help you find it."

I just close my eyes and smile, nestling further into Cardan. "And I you."

========== (the name is harper)

It's hard to wake up the next morning. Understatement. With Cardan as a protective shell around me, all I want to do is order a mountain of breakfast and sleep. 

But there's work to be done, mundane, simple problems to fix between the Faeries' rifts. So I drag myself out of the warm Faerie cocoon and start to drag myself into one of my dresses, one made of pure silver and inlaid with sweeping skirts of white and black. The corset is tied tight by one of my servants. 

At least there aren't any sparkles. I'm about to head out, grabbing my crown on the way, when Cardan's voice comes from the bed. 

"You should at least have breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

He makes a pouty face. "Not even for me?"

I ignore the subtle heat pooling in my core and roll my eyes. "You're High King, Cardan. It can wait."

"Breakfast can't." And before I can protest, he snaps his fingers and a servants bustles past me, soon coming back with cheesy eggs and marmalade toast.

I groan. "You had to."

Cardan's returning grin is something close to feral. "Anything to make you stay, my dear."

I walk over, being very, very careful of where I place myself on the bed, and stuff myself silly with eggs before I slather the biggest piece of toast with a huge slop of marmalade. 

"My Jude, slow down, dear," Cardan says by my ear, not-very-subtly pulling me into his lap.

I knew this would happen. "My Cardan, no, dear." I stand off his lap, avoiding looking lower than his face, curtsy, and leave the room.

"You have marmalade on your face!" He calls after me.

For all his whining and groveling about being High King, Cardan really isn't a bad one. He easily settles an argument between a tree nymph and a purple-skinned Faerie, saying that the fact that the Faerie tried to hump the tree is, in fact, disrespectful, even if the Faerie hadn't known, and that the tree nymph is allowed to press charges. (A/N: weird example, ik XD)

We've gone through several of these menial rifts, when I realize what's been nagging on my mind since yesterday. Madoc. His bargain made no sense.

And that's when a pale-faced Bomb runs through the door. 

"Jude," she pants urgently, "there's trouble."

The Roach immediately follows her, and they have a silent conversation.

I step out of my throne. "What."

They exchange another nervous glance. "Madoc's army is moving in."