Chapter Text
Today, the folk gathered to present the High King of Elfhame with offers, gifts and bargains. Some spoke of marriage, others about peace treaties and loyalties. And after a few dozen or so of people, a particularly interesting request was asked of him. He sat atop his throne on the dias with his seneschal overbearingly at his side as he idly tapped his fingers.
Cardan cast his gaze to the foxy fae stood in front of him, obsidian eyes narrowed at the offer though not unkindly. Locke, as his Master of Revels… to grant the courts with endless mirth and him the freedom from boredom. It was convincing— for Locke’s revels held at his own estate were undeniably amusing.
And being swept up as High King meant he had a lot of banal duties. Though the King could practically feel Jude’s anger radiating from her, he dismissed it. And luckily, she retreated away from the Dias. Good. Being caught up in her power was tiresome and he was perfectly able to make decisions on his own accord. After a moment of thinking, a small smile played upon his lips.
“Very well, Locke. The position is yours to take.” Cardan nodded, interested in how this would play out. However, knowing his closest friend, no one said it would be all in good favour. Locke could be unpredictable….Dangerous. “I assume you have many ideas in store for us all.”
Locke smirked his usual sly smile and his fox eyes glittered in newfound amber amusement. He bowed to the jewelled king as the courts hurrahed.
"You will not regret this, I shall bring amusement and entertainment to this otherwise dull court, my darling king" looking up from his lashes with a certain lust gleaming.
He turned to the Fae and popped open a bottle of golden wine. Their frollicking and dancing filled the halls with celebration for their new master of revels.
As Locke danced with beautiful Fae on the foot of Cardan's throne, he felt the thrill in his bones as Cardan watched him. Cardan always fueled the best of his stories.
"So, my beloved King Cardan, would you like to get out of here? I did promise you a bit of debauchery"
Locke wanted to see how Cardan would react. If he'd really take his hand right here as Jude gazed from afar. He felt a certain exhilaration thinking about how Jude would fume and try to control her fury. He hoped Cardan would defy Jude and go off with him in a scandalous manner.
He hoped Cardan would take his hand. Who knew what sort of time he would have with his old friend? He awaited with his hand extended to the King of Elfhame.
Locke’s hazel eyes were oddly intriguing, glittering in the warm light of the chandeliers and gazing at him so softly. Cardan straightened in his throne and tried to hush away the lulling feeling in his chest. A singular eyebrow raised at his prideful declaration.
The High King’s gaze fell to the Folk before him who were merry about the idea of new opportunities and celebrations unlike any other. Since his coronation, the parties hadn’t slowed one bit, and with Locke now in charge he doubted they would even slow at all. He knew what he was capable of, and that risk was enticing.
He wouldn’t have chosen anyone else.
The raven haired fae tilted his head when Locke addressed him so smoothly. The word beloved hit him right in the stomach, and he mentally cursed at himself for being so vulnerable. Locke could have his way, but he wasn’t getting advantage. With a final glance to Jude who stood at the corner of the room, shadows flitting across her features, Cardan lifted from his throne and held out his hand to place it into Locke’s.
“Hm. You are quite eager, aren’t you?” Cardan smiled, using his free hand to wave away faeries who had been waiting next in line. He could deal with them later, or better yet, Jude could do it for him. Despite all their inkdrop eyes on them, he continued but in a low voice. “I shall come with you then. And where exactly do you want to go?”
Maybe it's the way Cardan had said it, his voice had that same addictive venom that Locke wanted to drown in. He felt a perverse pleasure in the way Jude gazed in the shadows. Like the conniving mortal she was, Locke didn't feel much remorse for Jude. He enjoyed making a tragic tale out of her and Taryn. He didn't care much for her either, yes he felt a bit of comfort in her presence and a bit of love too. But right here, right now? He felt exultant excitement as the silver caressed Cardan's cheekbones. It only grew with rage when Cardan placed his hot skin onto his, holding his pale, beautiful hand.
Locke laughed as Cardan smiled and felt exactly as Cardan had said: eager. "Hm? Now you seem to be the eager one"
He led the King of Elfhame into the halls of the castle. The folk were too busy with theatrics and wine to notice their leaving. Everything was hyper, from the click of Cardan' s boots, to the warmth of his hand. To Locke feeling his gaze behind his head.
He stopped at a terrace, silver moonlight sculpting Cardan's features.
"Why, isn't this much better than that stuffy old revel?"
Well. He couldn’t deny that.
Abandoning his royal guards to run off with someone wasn’t a first time occurrence. They held back at the dias, and Cardan focused his gaze on the ginger fae who led him through the castle. To be quite frank, the King felt a sort of relief that Locke had approached him today; it had been too long since their last moment together. Feeling Locke’s hand in his reminded him of how things used to be before his rulership, before Jude had meddled too much with his head and Locke had meddled too much with… others. He gave it a slight squeeze, barely noticeable.
When they reached the terrace, a cool breeze tickled Cardan’s face. He took a breath of the fresh midnight air. Locke’s appearance was defined out here like his sharp jawline and fox-like eyes. He was admittedly handsome— it didn’t surprise him that he could play with so many lovers.
“Indeed it is…” The raven haired male tore his gaze away from him, peering up to the stars instead. “It reminds me of the times we used to spend at your estate up on your balcony. I ought to go there again sometime.”
Though he knew that the real reason Locke brought him here was not to just stargaze or take a quick breather.
Locke tried not to look at Cardan, he felt his gaze lingering on his face, he felt so alive when Cardan spoke those words. Locke inhaled the chill air and kept his eyes on the moonlit sky, they were almost as breath-taking as the King. He was afraid if he even took one peak at Cardan, one measly flicker of the eyes would throw him right at the bottom of the ocean. Wine was in the air, dandelion seeds floated gently in the air and the stars looked so much like splattered paint on a canvas.
Cardan had always been the one to have the most fun with. And out of all Locke's lovers, he missed Cardan for when they were young Fae children, when the adults didn't pay attention as the children pocketed honeyed fruit and ran into the woods drinking stolen wine from the cellars. Maybe even holding hands and eventually touching even more when they became teens.
Locke took a risk and turned to look at Cardan, who looked so fondly at the sky. Reminding Locke about the balcony of his estate. Cardan
looked so delicate in the moonlight, his obsidian eyes seemed to gleamed and his lips looked especially soft and skin a pearl white.
"Yes we really should," he barely whispered. Locke didn't know what had come over him, maybe it was the infectious twilight or the way Cardan had looked so lush and so handsome. But he moved closer, his hand touching Cardan's on the rails. Brushing a stray strand from Cardan's eyes. Letting his own amber eyes wander in his ebony ones.
"Do you remember when we were children? How we sent love letters to each other?"
At the Master of Revel’s hushed words, Cardan turned attentively to him and saw how he gazed at him as if he were a sacred jewel. It was charming of him like always, made you feel as if you were the most beautiful fae he ever saw. Cardan wondered if Locke knew how beautiful his own self was.
Both gestures made the King’s senses melt and he was pleased to recall such a sweet memory, unlike all of his other treacherous ones. “How could I forget?”
He placed his hand gently on Locke’s chest, a small intimate gift back. His fingers were decorated with gold and silver rings, charms of butterflies and snakes, and his crimson red nails were curved into a fine point. “The poems you would come up with were truly sweet. I hoped you meant every word.”
Internally, he flinched slightly at the oversharing of his feelings, but this was his best friend— whom he trusted as much as he could for a deceitful faerie. Plus, he had a little wine back the revel (or maybe more than a little) and right now, he didn’t see anything to lose.
“But fairytales can’t always be so perfect.” He raised his dark eyebrows, hinting unspoken words to Locke with a soft glance.
Locke hadn't meant for this night to have such an affect on him. He merely loved the idea of Jude's envy and Cardan had always been the most enjoyable to be with. He thought his childhood feelings had been buried in the dungeon of his heart. But being here with Cardan, on the Terrance and away from the crowd of drunken Fae, it stirred the memories of the poetry he would write to Cardan. He could remember that young passion he felt for Cardan, it was a tale for the ages. An era. He had to ask about their love, ask if Cardan remembered it too. Cardan's voice was like silk and wine. Locke shivered slightly.
And when Cardan placed his jewelled hands on his chest, those slender and long fingers. The paleness of his palms, you would think they'd be like ice. But Locke couldn't forget the way the heat of Cardan's hand travelled through his fine silk and tickled his chest. This heart raced underneath Cardan's palm and he just silently hoped that Cardan couldn't feel the way his heart beated under his touch.
Locke had chuckled at what Cardan had said. Because of course he had meant every word. He had meant them with all his heart, the only person who Locke had ever poured his feelings out bare to. But Locke knew, when Cardan had hinted of what happened between the two of them. Of course, it had always been Locke's fault. He had messed up something so lovely with his impulses, with his never ending thirst for something great and tragic. He looked at Cardan, the slight raise of eyebrows, his fluttering eyelashes.
"No they cannot. You know, I've never met anyone like you. I don't think I even love Taryn as much as I loved you" he laughed knowingly and sadly. Biting his rose lips Locke continued "not even Nicasia was as great as you" he felt like crying, for all those who have ever loved him and for all those he has ever loved.
Whilst Locke responded, the King noticed the slight flicker of pain in his expression which was masked with a chuckle. Faeries cannot lie— so everything he said was the truth. If Locke was not enamoured with Nicasia or Taryn as much as he was with him, then why meddle with them? Ah, it was a ridiculous question. That was just how the folk were— cruel— but it was inevitable. And here they were out under the blanket of stars, and Cardan felt a betraying sense that told him Locke’s love belonged to him. Because he had it first.
How hypocritical.
The High King let a huff escape his lips. He hadn’t meant to make this melancholy. After a few silent moments, there was a rustle of fabric and jingle as Cardan lifted his hand higher to cup the ginger faeries cheek. His own expression was quite unreadable, soft but serious. Lips drawn into a thin line.
“Then why would you settle for something lesser? You had courted me and yet both of us went different paths. You are about to enter wedlock. I, involved with too many consorts.” His voice was steady and hushed. “What is it that you truly want? Because I do not understand. Are you telling me you’re unhappy? Do you wish to rekindle what we had? Or are you letting a mortal girl decide for you?”
Ah, there it was. The slip of jealousy and hypocritical words. It was awful to try to stir Locke back to him, but he couldn’t help it. And who was he to talk, when a mortal girl overshadowed his kingship and clouded his mind?
It was silent once Locke had said those words. Cardan letting out a breath of air, what had Locke done? Yes he didn't care much for Taryn but he was in wedlock with her. Though her delicate and sensitive manner still differed from Cardan's ruthlessness yet gentleness. Once you get a taste, you were infatuated. The Folk, Nicasia, Locke and even Jude he suspected- they were all infatuated with Cardan. The silence suffocated him, looking at the slight discomfort in Cardan's features, Locke thought he may have overstepped. How could he say such things? Even after he'd stolen Nicasia from Cardan's begging grasp and Jude from his needy hold? After he'd caused him so many twilights of sorrow and disparity? Then Locke had felt Cardan's hand on his skin, he pulled up his own hand atop of his. The gem rings were cold against Locke's fingers. It was embarrassing, looking at him like this, so bare. Locke wanted to hiss at him, push away again like he did before.
Shout and scream because he hated how they laid their emotions out like this. Yet, Cardan's expression was unreadable. Taryn was lesser, he had known. But was he truly unhappy? He did start to find Taryn quite exhausting. He hasn't had much of a thrill after Jude had found out about his betrayal and challenged Taryn to a duel. Until now, right here under the stars with Cardan holding his cheek. He hadn't known how much he missed him. He didn't know why he had let him go in the first place, having an affair with Nicasia. Getting under Cardan's skin.
And then Cardan said it. Letting a mortal girl decide for him. He heard the jealousy plain. It crawled into Locke's heart those words, but knew too well how complicated things were now.
"Must you be so irritating and yet so gorgeous? Cardan, as well as I, am aware that it is not so simple. I am to be wedded to a mortal who's father is a war general and to whose sister is your ruthless seneschal. I would be slaughtered by at least one if I were to abandon Taryn. Yes I'm unhappy now, and I miss you so. You are king now, and I do not wish to be one of your consorts. My mother already had a tragic fate due to being a consort to your bloodline. And as you said you already have many consorts and I'd rather keep you to myself if we were to rekindle our flame."
Though everything that Locke said was the truth, and going against it would be risky for the both of them, the High King did not want to hear it. He frowned at the thought of what could happen if Locke called off his marriage, and frowned deeper at the mention of his deceased mother. Though he was charmed by the redhead fae with his stupid compliments, part of this felt like a mockery to him.
If Locke loved him so, out of all the folk in Faerie, then why couldn't he receive that love? Was he not worthy? Once again, a mortal girl fit into his world more than he himself, was blessed with a family who would do anything to protect her and now his best friend. A husband to be. It stabbed at his hollow, blackened heart. Childishly frustrated, his tail lashed out from inside his clothes as it would when he was younger, too (and precisely the reason why he had it covered in the first place). His lovers always came running back too late. Cardan ought to treat Locke the same way he did Nicasia.
But there were ways his plotting mind was already jumping to. To sabotage the wedding somehow. Or grant Locke the protection of The Ghost, Bomb and Roach so that Madoc and Jude would not swing for his head– yet for that to be official, Locke would have to be royalty. And that meant to marry him himself, which made a blush show to his cheeks. Ridiculous. Cardan hadn’t declared his love tonight. So why was he feeling so deeply? This was utterly pointless. Locke wasn’t asking for him back, he was just reminding him of what could have been.
Curse this. As soon as he was out of here, the King needed more wine. He brought his hand away suddenly.
“Then, it was your choice to agree to it. You chose her and that is how it shall be. Exactly like Nicasia did. I’m terribly sorry that you are unhappy, but alas, I can do very little.”
His cruel words left him without a second thought, and speaking to his closest friend like this hurt. But he was not going to beg for it.
Part of him hoped that Locke would.
“I am flattered by the things you said tonight. But if you don’t mind, I have other matters to attend to.”
With that, Cardan turned on his heel and headed to leave back into the castle before he grew too needy, before he looked desperate.
When Locke felt the absence of Cardan's hand. The heat, dissipate. He was scared. He had ruined this night for Cardan and for him. He felt his heart jump out of his chest and then Cardan spoke. The venom that dripped from his voice. He forgot how cruel he could be- how utterly cold. He missed the heat on his chest. He was terrified, he started to shake
and his breathing quickened. Of course.
He had chosen this. He had chosen to go behind Jude's back and chosen to make Taryn go behind her back too. He had chosen to marry Taryn and chose to ruin what he had with Cardan.
Cardan's words were like ice. Like he didnt know him. The sharpness in the king's gaze tore Locke up inside out. His pride forced himself to keep composure, to not break down as Cardan gave him one final look and turned away. Into the depths of the castle. He felt empty, then he felt sorrow. Sadness embraced him like a long lost lover, he didn't want this.
He muffled his sobs into his hand, brushed his red hair out of his eyes. Patted it down neatly and sniffled.
He will not be seen with sadness, he was boisterous and amusing Locke. He wiped his tears away and shoved his sadness down. He'll deal with it later, once he's in the privacy of his own chambers. He'll unlock that dungeon in his heart only then. He'll welcome it in his bed. In his lonely estate, Taryn was with Madoc for tonight.
But for now, he'll pick up the fragments of his dignity. Try to avoid Cardan and be the master of revels the Fae have been waiting for.
He walks into the hall. Despair in his heart and amusement in his face.