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The sun rose gently on the horizon of Elfhame outside of the golden briars that grew just outside the royal chambers' windows. Tendrils of sunlight whisked away the brisk coolness of night and brought daylight into power. Jude rested comfortably on the massive bed inside the chambers. Cardan lay next to her, tired but awake nonetheless.
These days he tended to wake up sober. He had thrown away the recklessness of a hurtful revel’s serenade and chose to drink quietly while in the company of family and friends. Of course, he was still fanciful and utterly ridiculous, that you simply couldn’t take away from him. He attended the revels still, just with a more controlled manner, as now he had a life he valued and cherished. For once, he didn’t think it was worth risking.
The High King of Elfhame turned his head to look at his sleeping Queen. Her brows were ruffled in the way they always were in slumber: furrowed and scrunched like ruffles on fabric. The planes of the bedsheets spread out around her. Jude always slept with one hand underneath her pillow, where she no doubt kept a dagger clenched in her hand. His Queen, his warrior Queen, who was always willing to fight, even if for nothing.
As though by command, Jude blinked her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the early morning light. Now, she wasn’t a morning person. Anyone close to her would and should know that. She was irritable and sarcastic, unfiltered in the hazy morning air. Cardan had to admit that waking up next to her each morning, watching her wake up, seeing her reaction as she realizes where she is everyday, was his guilty pleasure.
Maybe he was biased seeing as she was his wife and all. But Cardan had gone so long without love that he yearned for it. He yearned for it from his mother and father, from his siblings, for a chance at love again from Nicasia after hers had started to fade.
He took to cruelty and merciless deeds like a thirsty cat to water. It was a way for him to survive, a devilish solution for an unloved soul.
Curses from the stars were his birthrights, unruly gifts bestowed upon an unwilling recipient.
A soft voice shook him from his reverie.
“Cardan?” Jude’s gaze caught onto Cardans and intertwined the two together. Suddenly Cardan couldn’t look away. “What time is it?”
He felt a soft smile creep upon his lips, the corners of his mouth quirking into a grin.
“6 AM, my love,” he replied.
At the pet name, Jude flushed, cheeks turning to an uncommon rosy color. Cardan decided he rather liked it.
Then, the Queen of Elfhame furrowed her brows. “And you woke me up?” She smacked him with a throw pillow, which he valiantly dodged. Together they laughed as one, filling with mirth, basking in the glorifying wake of their love.
For no one can stop them. No one can say that their love was false, that it was wrong, just because one was a fae whilst the other remained a ‘mere’ mortal. That shouldn’t be the cause for segregation or hate. For mortals can be beautiful too, and they are. For love is eternal. It comes in all shapes and forms. And those people who did believe that they were dirty, that their love was wrong, are only mistaking beauty for something much more sinister.
For they were the High King and Queen of Elfhame. And for they were undoubtedly, stupidly, eternally in love.