Chapter Text
Jude was furious at her own nerves and not for the first time. She fiddled with her wedding ring, ignoring the way the cell guards’ eyes purposefully avoided her pacing. Trying and trying to remind herself it was just a talk, she stilled.
It had been nearly a decade since she had spoken to her father. Her foster father. It’s as though she can still see the last time she laid eyes on him, chained and resigned. She still has nightmares where the circumstances are opposite. Nightmares that Cardan must coax her back from. She smiles slightly at the memory of him reminding her that she owed Madoc nothing in this talk, wishing she could hide in it. But that wasn’t who she was, and she knew it. Some things had to be faced for your own sake.
It was safe to say that the Tower of Forgetting was not quite the cesspool it had once been. Still, as she entered, she could understand the sense of foreboding many felt upon entering. She did not have to walk far to reach Madoc’s maximum-security cell. She pauses only a moment before asking the guards for the keys.
“Your Majesty, we truly cannot advise that.” The taller one insists. She tilts her head at him, almost charmed by his worry.
“If he hurts me, he will have larger forces to worry about. I doubt he finds his position that stable.” She doesn’t mention that this wasn’t enough to prevent the wound that still scars her stomach. It may not be enough now.
Still, she unlocks the cell door and enters.
Her father, of sorts, sits in the darkened corner of the cell, as though he wishes to see enemies coming. He wears simple clothes over his green form; much different than the court clothes she grew up with him wearing. As he looks up at her and his face meets the weak moonlight from the window, Jude can see bruises darkening his face. In fact, there seems to be many remnants of his time imprisoned. It pains her that he does not seem surprised at her entrance. As though it has been the very thing he’s been waiting for.
“Oak tells me you can hardly bear to address me in conversation.”
“Is it customary for you to begin every conversation like a battle to be won?” He responds, meeting her gaze. She scoffs in a way that is certainly beneath her.
“Blame it on my upbringing.” She parries, shifting her stance to a more comfortable one. “Tell me this is not some grand plan to skirt your exile.”
To his credit, he does not act as though this is something that had not occurred to him. “No. I am aware as to how you have been trained to keep your word. I had no desire to meet that previously avoided fate. This was a ploy for Oak’s heart.”
Jude clenches her teeth ever so slightly. “And not mine?”
Madoc only shrugs, “I hear you have cultivated your image well.” Jude straightens at this, responding in kind.
“And you have refused to.” This bait, he doesn’t rise to. Instead, he changes tactic.
“He is in peril, Jude.” She does not need to ask whom he is referring to. “I needn’t tell you how much.”
Jude shuts her eye tight for a quick moment, images of peril and horror flickering through her mind. She feels that fear for her brother, swallows it. “What can you tell us about it?” She asks, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.
“Ah.” He replies, sitting back and assessing. She sees her expressions in his own. “You know I will not give you information in this cell. I have too long been sat in one.”
“You expect me to let you out of this Tower without the opinion of the High King or informing of the council.” She sees him latch onto this, eyes alighting in a way that signifies what he sees as an advantage.
“And how is the boy king?” He asks, ever the calculating opponent. Jude sees it for what it is, and still her mouth goes dry. He presses on, “Did he tell you not to see me?”
“Of course not.” She responds with the truth quickly. Naturally, he takes this to mean it is falsehood. He sits back as though he has won something.
“He has poisoned you against me.” He states bluntly, leaving no room for debate. Still, Jude bristled.
“You do not know him, not really.” Jude remarked, trying to feign nonchalance despite the way he made her skin crawl. As if she was still a child. Still, she held firm. “He would never try to sway my mind on such a thing, if he knew how it mattered to me.” This, he appears to have no rebuttal for.
“And how is your marriage?” He asks, his voice a strange mix of morbid curiosity and care.
“I wonder why you think you have any right to ask how my marriage is, for you are one who nearly ended it.” She snaps and feels as though the scar on her stomach burns. “And if you disrespect his name again, I will not be as forgiving of a host.”
“I can see a change in you, a joyous one, you know. I was your father once, after all.” His eyes meet hers, then, after a moment. Jude is frustrated to find she must fight back tears. Oh, what she has lost.
“I wish I could say the same for you.” She responds after a moment, moving towards the door. “We will be calling for your questioning shortly.”
As she opens the door, he does not miss the guard at the door. “Guards are beneath you, daughter.” He says, not looking at her and ignoring her previous statement.
“Perhaps they are to protect you from me, Father.” She replies and steps out the door, not missing a beat. When she rounds the corner and is away from the guards’ eyes, she allows herself a moment to pause. She crouches in a decidedly unroyal fashion and covers her mouth, shoving a scream back in. Her head spins and yet she finds it within herself to stand after and sort herself out. When she returns to her chambers, Cardan stands from his chair abruptly, trying to look not worried in a way that makes Jude want to cry from affection.
He is hers despite Madoc’s best attempts.
He says nothing as he approaches her, reading her eyes in only the way he can. Somehow, she has learned to say so much to him this way, even if she knows words will come later. Until then, she is comforted by how he so effortlessly folds her into his arms. She slots her head into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. It doesn’t hurt so much, then. Not in the slightest.