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At last, the Hunter’s Moon had arrived, meaning that the folk were alight with joy and cheer and mirth. Faerie parties were not to be missed and so many had gathered in the palace ballroom to celebrate. The High King sat on his throne and overlooked the chaos that ensued, quick to notice that his seneschal had arrived and was parting through the crowd. Next to her, her two sisters followed. He had expected to see their faces tonight. And he never failed to see Nicasia either, who was seemingly sharing some gossip with Valerian and another fae. Madoc, who was accompanied by Oriana and the little Oak. All was in high spirits, except for Cardan himself.
The raven haired male looked down into his goblet with a frown. Dark red liquid swirled and he felt himself a little buzzed. He should be merry as their King, should be dancing or singing or feasting. But his emotions had failed him; he wanted nothing more than to be out of here. Swiftly, Cardan rose from his seat. When he was accompanied by his personal guard, he scoffed.
“Do not walk with me. I am perfectly able by myself.”
Despite his demeanour, a shaky breath escaped his lips. The man turned and led his way through the masses of folk. He kept his head down so as not to bring too much attention to himself, which was pathetic because he was the King of Elfhame. Kings weren’t supposed to be this weak. This vulnerable. And he was attracting attention anyway, the crowds moving for him to pass freely and some pausing to bow. Everything was becoming more hazy by the minute, so he hurried on to the empty halls. It was much quieter here and easier to breathe. Perhaps he had drank too much of that wine…
It didn’t take long for Cardan to reach his personal chambers, slinging the heavy robes off his shoulders. All he could hear was his own heavy breathing as panic set in.
“This is ridiculous.” Was what he whispered to himself. He went to his bathroom. Turned on the light. Saw his tired and worried self looking back at him miserably. “You are ridiculous. Why can’t you just pull it together?”
A few moments of silence, and what was left of his togetherness fell apart. Cardan’s eyes squeezed shut stubbornly to stop the tears that threatened to fall, but he could not help his shaky hands and slight sobs. Even when alone, he insisted he stay quiet. The King didn’t want to hear how undone he was. It didn’t even feel like he had control of himself most of the time, so whatever power he could have he would take. Passing it off as the alcohol’s influence, it made him feel less weak but didn’t halt the brooding thoughts of how awful he was as a person, and a King. Though the whole of Elfhame would bow to him, no one was truly there for him personally. Not one. Everyone was always caught up in schemes against him or to get with him so that they could secure power. Cardan sunk to the floor hopelessly with a heavy heart.
—🌙—
In the midst of the partygoers, Locke had been thrilled by the exciting shows of dancing and music. He was seated with the higher folk who were the most beautiful gentlemen and ladies; all dressed in fine garments and eager to spill scandal. Gulping down what was left of his drink, the foxed fae smirked at the arising conversation of the King and his lovers.
“Oh? You haven’t heard?” Locke began, his eyes narrowing slyly. “I advised him to take lots and lots, but none has seemed to peak his interest. A shame, really, for you all of course. He won’t settle for anything bleak.” Speaking of the High King, when the male cast his hazel eyes to the throne, he found it unoccupied. His smile faded slightly, and after exchanging a falsely apologetic glance to the group, Locke retreated to the further side of the ballroom. Ginger brows furrowed as he passed by the guards, and he lifted his chin curiously.
“His Majesty… where is he?” Locke questioned them in a peaceful approach. “I wish to tell him something important.”
The guard barely even spared a look at him.
“The High King is away. I assure you he will return soon.”
“Right…” The ginger haired male gave a sigh, scanning the room. It wasn’t like Cardan to be avoidant of celebration. Hopefully he had not gotten caught up in political matters. Political matters were always dull. If not, the only place he may be would be the gardens or his chambers, for some reason he did not know. So he settled on searching the latter first.
When Locke arrived at the door, he found his answer.
Soft sobbing could be heard from within the room. But why was he crying? The fae hesitated for a moment before gently easing the door open. Cardan wasn’t aware of his presence as he was huddled up at the back of the bathroom with his tail swishing violently. Locke’s frown deepened as he clicked the door shut behind him and locked it carefully.
Cardan snapped up at the noise.
“Relax,” The redhead insisted softly. “It’s just me.”
Cardan was quick to respond, hurt noticeable in his voice. “Oh, go away. Don’t try to pity me. I came here alone for a reason.” The male stood up and brushed himself off, wiping tears away desperately from his cheeks with his back turned. Of course, Locke would not leave the King here to dwell in his own thoughts— so he approached him and placed a hand on his arm.
“What good is it to be alone? You know you can talk to me, Cardan.” An empty silence followed, but after noticing that the other didn’t flinch away from his contact, he gave a reassuring squeeze. Yet still, Cardan said nothing.
Hm.
Alright then, if he wanted it this way.
Locke’s hand trailed down his arm and to his waist. He took his free hand and held Cardan’s, guiding him to seat himself on the bed rather than standing up so stubbornly in that bathroom. Cardan obliged with a defeated expression on his face. Then, the ginger male sat down beside him, bringing him closer. He only achieved eye contact when he gently took hold of the King’s jaw and turned him towards him. Ink drop eyes were glossed over with tears and the ginger fae softened his own gaze. Cardan was beautiful— even when crying.
—🌙—
Locke had no business being here. He didn’t have to come here. Cardan wasn’t even sure if he wanted him here, but it was obvious that he did when he leaned into the touch, too afraid to admit it. Locke’s hand was warm on his face, and he smelled of rich wine, chocolate, pine cones…
As much as the High King wanted to retaliate from that mischievous fae, he couldn’t. He hated how captivating his auburn, foxy eyes were. The ginger, curled locks that framed his face and the slight rosiness of his lips made him all that more charming. He found his gaze lingering for too long.
“Well? Come on, I will hear it.” Locke prompted.
Right now, the raven haired male couldn’t seem to find the words for anything, and the light touch of the hand at his waist made his mind drift to unwilling needs. It was true that he had came here alone, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be…
“Forgive me for being so pathetic.” Without a second thought, Cardan leaned into Locke, hiding his face in the crook of his neck and bringing a hand to his chest. With slight surprise, he was quickly pulled into a comfortable hug, his nerves alight with uncertainty. He wasn’t entirely sure what Locke was thinking. It had been a while since he was held this close and he didn’t want to let go.
Locke’s fingers drew soft circles on his pale skin as the two remained silent for a good while. Cardan tried to hide his face as he began sobbing again, too embarrassed to let it show. That’s when Locke assured him that it was alright to let it out. He didn’t remember when the ginger fae had lay him down on the bed and took him into an embrace, their limbs tangled together. When he’d finally stopped crying, Locke took his hand in his, placing their palms together gently before interlocking fingers.
“Well, well,” Locke had whispered mischievously. “I didn’t care too much for the party anyway. This is something else.” To that, Cardan had lifted his head and shot him an angered look with his watery eyes. How dare he relish in the fact that they are so close when he was in despair? Locke only gave a small chuckle, squeezing his hand. “I am only kidding. Perhaps. But I am here for you. Why didn’t you come to me sooner about this?”
The King huffed and placed his head back down beside the male. His voice came out small and quiet. “I don’t know.”
“Could you tell me about it now?”
“…I guess. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
Two could play at that game. Since Cardan wanted to feel something— actually feel something other than hurt— perhaps he could relish in this too. The words that left his mouth felt like sweet betrayal. “You kiss me.”
It was silent for a few moments, and then Locke had readjusted himself on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and bringing up a hand to cup the King’s face. His hazel eyes were narrowed and the edge of his lips lifted with pleasure of what he just heard. Cardan wasn’t phased for he knew what was to happen, but he was eager for it. “As you wish, your Majesty.”
Their lips met together in a delicate kiss, eyelashes fluttering closed with the comforting but not unfamiliar affection. Kissing Locke had always made him feel something— yet he rarely got the chance to do it. The fae’s lips were soft against his own; Locke pressed into him to deepen it which made him unwillingly give a little noise. Cardan’s hands came to his ginger hair, attempting to press the kiss back to show that he wasn’t so easily undone. But he knew that was not the truth. This was blissful for him more than he would like to admit.
Cardan was weak, and even more so weaker for Locke.