@bcbliophile sent from tloz: tears of the kingdom starters

“ You should have seen the look on your face. ” P.S.A: Jude 😏 ( based on a discussed plot )

Admittedly, when Cardan first gazed upon Jude ― as soon as they were finished tossing and turning and scratching in the soft furs of their bed after a rather frustrating fight ― only to see the dull, plain as drywall smile commonly known to be worn by Jude's twin, Taryn, he could feel his body going as still as ice, his heart stopping within his ribcage only to plummet into a bottom pit of despair. His mind was devoid of any thoughts save from two; the first being he couldn't possibly have had sex with Taryn and the second a lazy imitation of the first, with the addition that he couldn't have had sex with Taryn because he would have noticed it wasn't Jude he was kissing, that it wasn't Jude who clawed upon his scar-sensitive back hard enough to draw blood. Jude possessed fire; Her eyes sparkled with determination and scheming, her cruel mouth always curled into a smirk as she spoke her defiant words to him, and she always carried herself with a bright, vibrant air that screamed she was alive ― a direct contrast to the whimpering, spineless Taryn whose only purpose of existing was to be a mere inconvenience to her twin. He couldn't have possibly slept with her ― Cardan would have known; He always knew.

Except for the one time he didn't.

It wasn't his fault, not really; Back then, he had the poison of wraith-berries coursing through his veins, the kind that makes your heart race, makes the blood in your veins pump harder, more violent and severe any and all connection to rational thinking, making one appear as though they're drunk while the wraith-berries gradually work you towards your death. Back then, Taryn had imposed herself as Jude, seeking permission for her father, General Madoc, to be released from the oath bidding his alliance to the Blood Crown and, in return, the High Court. Cardan always had a way of telling which twin was which, simply because Jude, with all her flaws and imperfections, looked twice as beautiful in his eyes ― and yet, that day as if she had known of this, Taryn had purposely worn the earrings smitten into life by the Gremsen, which amplify and enhance one's beauty and charisma by tenfold. The Fae's mind had been far too much fogged by the poison to try to see through the enchantments or to even consider why Jude would be asking this particular favour of him ( nor was it within his ability to think ) but simply because Jude had asked this of him, he had granted it to her; She needn't even have to command him for it ― Cardan did it for no reason other than he trusted her.

What is his excuse now ?

The Fae is startled back as if shot by an electric wire in an attempt to put as much distance between Taryn and himself as he possibly can. Black eyes rimmed with gold are widened, much like a deer caught in traffic lights, his body feeling as though it's bursting with energy and completely paralyzed at the same time. Shock, shame, guilt, and disgust all flash before his eyes, twisting his once soft, sharp features into a hard frown and lining his mouth into a slandered line, alight with so much hatred that it can burn all of Inswear to a lump of coal. He wants to scream at her to get out, or better yet, to have her arrested for daring to impersonate his Queen to lure him into, what probably much be, yet another of her wicked schemes.

His brain is spinning in a thousand different directions; Does she want an heir from him, and to an extent, a higher place in the court ? Or does it stim deeper than that, a fit of underlying jealousy to prove to Jude that she can have it all, Cardan included ? The King doesn't know. What he does know, is that he wants to climb out of that bed and run out to seek Jude, but all he can do is stay frozen upon the very edge of the King sized bed, staring in horror much like the first time Balekin had ordered him whipped until his back flayed open. His heart is about to burst, and he can't do anything ―

❛ You should have seen that look on your face ! ❜ Comes the sneering voice of the Taryn-Jude amalgamation before the plain, dull smile shifts into his wife's all-too-familiar smirk and Cardan can't help the way his shoulders fall inwards, the way his lungs slowly release that small, shallow breath they've been holding on to for what felt like an eternity.

It was a joke, he attempts to reassure himself but regardless, his cheeks burn in the embarrassment of having just been caught going through, what the Fae has heard Vivi say is all fifty stages of grief, meanwhile, Jude laughs her heart out, letting her torso fall upon the softness of the feather-stuffed pillows behind her. Her naked breasts rise and fall as she takes shallow breathes, too caught up within ― what she considers to be ― the funniest joke she has ever played on him; and although Cardan doesn't feel like laughing, let alone smiling after what feels like two centuries have been stripped from his immortal life span, one look upon on his wife's face is enough to soften his sharp features and even curl his lips into a resemblance of a smile. He can't be mad at her; not when she looks this delighted, which is a rarity amongst the haste life of monarchy.

When he feels as though his limbs can move again, the Cardan carefully crawls towards the brunette and hovers over her naked body with his thighs spreading her own, before his lips catch hers into a hard kiss. He hopes it conveys exactly just how bad this lame attempt of a joke has been, and how stressed he Is because of it. Perhaps there is a reason why Jude never cracked jokes before; the reason being her jokes must be fatal to her audience.

❛ Never make that joke again. ❜ The Fae whispers against her lips. Taryn is not someone he wants to picture while having sex, even if they bare the same face. ❛ Not unless you feel like killing me again, that is. ❜

*jude, on twitter*: i’ve been told i’m too negative and hostile towards taryn. so sis, if my tweets have offended you, i humbly apologize. i honestly didn’t think you could read. 

taryn slander is all i live for

On the first day of Jurdan-man your snusband gave to thee… well, that’s a good question! And it all depends on you my lovely Knife Wife. But to make sure I get you the best holiday gift I can I have to interrogate you as Jude would Cardan.

1) Anything you would love to see in a fic gift?

2) Anything you would hate?

3) What in a fic makes you flail happily?

4) What in a fic makes you want to throw your phone across the room? (For better or worse).

5) Finally, how do you feel about gratuitous amounts of fluff?

One final thing so I can be sure to go the right way. Do you celebrate Christmas, something different, or nothing at all? Thanks wifey and I look forward to hearing from you 😘

Ahh hello!! 🥰 

1. I had to really think about this question lol. But I really love clever dialogue or even sassy one liners

2. I’d hate an unhappy ending, but given the 5th question I don’t think that will be a problem! I am a Taryn-apologist so not too much Taryn-Slander 😂

3. I personally love a good confession scene 🥰

4. The miscommunication trope makes me want to throw my phone (derogatory) but timely romantic resolution can make me want to throw my phone (affectionate)

5. I would appreciate all the fluff in the world. Nothing is too fluffy for me!

and lastly, I celebrate Christmas! 

what are your favorite hartsy interviews?

my absolute favorite is him defending his honor against kevin hayes’ partial slander (his aggrieved “you guys already hated it, what do you want from me???” made me howl) but this one with noah juulsen is also very funny. this one from back when the flyers actually used to give us the Content. this is a great one about the psychology of the game. i think this is the one where he says he’s bored so he did 500 pushups. “oh.... taryn’s gone??? :(”

for written interviews, this one is a really good one from when he was still a prospect, but has a lot of detail about how he plays the position and also some fun little details like ohl/whl guys have cliques and stick together in camp; this one is also really good and talks a lot about how hard he is on himself and how ambitious he is and how he found it hard to let go of everett. a lot of older interviews he was a little more candid i think. really loved this quote:

I saw a quote from J.J. Watt the other day that said, ‘It never gets easier, you just get better.’ I came in here at Everett when I was 16, and things were really fast for me. When I was 16, there were guys in the league like Nic Petan, Oliver Bjorkstrand, Leon Draisaitl and Sam Reinhart. When you’re 16, you’re wide-eyed when you see those guys. In time, you wind up being one of those guys.

because it’s true but also hartsy you are fuckin 22 years old, calm down. and this one, but more for his mom inadvertently roasting him like four times.

Jude Teaches Cardan to Fight (pt 1)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: The High King’s Senechal decides that it’s important for him to learn how to defend himself. During their first training session, things go about as well as could be expected when Jude and Cardan are in a room with pointed weapons.

AN: It’s super late and I have work tomorrow so I’m uploading this as two short fics instead of one long one bc I’m really excited for y’all to read it! It doesn’t really follow TWK but it’s set around then.

Cardan couldn’t help but feel ridiculous in the loose-fit training gear. The clothes were mind-numbingly boring with their neutral colors and dull fabrics. A sneer of disgust curled his lips thanks to the memories these clothing brought. Nights full of wasteful lessons and days drenched in the fear of Balekin’s incessant beatings. The feeling of the sword strapped to his side made Cardan’s skin crawl. He had learned numerous dances during court life but the intricate steps of swordplay were danced to a rhythm unheard by him.

Despite Balekin’s slanderous words, there was a time when Cardan had yearned to learn to fight. His long pointed ears were still too large for his childlike face at the time. Whenever he would miss a blow or falter midstep Balekin would hiss and curse at him. The desire to train quickly went out after just days of being under his older brother’s care. As he advanced in his lessons outside of the Hollow Hall he was even less enticed to pay attention to the mechanics of battle. The irony of it all was that as Balekin beat him bloody to strength his ire, he only succeed in softening the young prince’s heart.

It was thanks to him that Cardan had sworn to himself to never use a blade the way Balekin had. Self-defense was one thing but to hurt another creature beyond was repair was unacceptable. Just the thought of it made Cardan’s stomach roll.

“What a surprise. You’re in the training room before me,” Jude's voice fractured Cardan’s melancholy.

He hated everything about the idea of training except for her. Jude sauntered into the room, looking as confident as ever. She wore the same kind of training gear as he did but somehow Jude made them look like royal robes. She was nothing more than human ward brought to his land by pity. Had it not been for Madoc’s reputation, she would have been sold to the highest paying faerie as another dull-eyes, lifeless servant. No matter who she stood in front of, though, she never played the part of a frightened human.

One of the first things that Cardan had noticed about Jude was how her pride pulled her shoulders back and straightened her spine. Right after that was realizing how unlike other humans she was. She didn’t lower her gaze when he walked past. At least not without a nudge from Taryn. Nor did she hide the frequent glares she shot at his cohorts distractions during lessons. Despite her obvious hatred of them, she always stayed silently beside her milder twin, scribbling notes by soft lantern light. Cardan had often caught himself watching her in those moments of quiet rebellion.

Knowing that she was mortal had not made Cardan blind to her beauty. Her hair was mixed with shades of walnut and chocolate. Her skin was pale from living by moonlight but her decorated with blemishes that couldn’t be found on faeries. Even the curved shell of her ear distracted him from the fact that she was far more beneath him that either of them could ever really reach.

“Cardan,” Jude, his seneschal, crossed her arms in front of him.

It took him a second to realize that he hadn’t responded to her jab at his surprising punctuality. He had gotten distracted by the planes of her body that were visible under the clothes. This was yet another reason sparring lessons had been difficult to focus on before.

“It is not like I had much of a choice, Jude dear,” Cardan’s words recovered before his mind truly had. “You pull my strings and I do as you say, remember?”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I didn’t command you to train with me.”

Cardan shrugged. “It was implied.”

“An implied demand is not the same as a forced command,” she narrowed her eyes at him.

Cardan could see that he was starting to toe the lining of banter and arguing. He was too nervous for these lessons to risk annoying her so early on. “I suppose you are correct in that,” he amended. “Well, now you have me alone in a room just like you wanted. Go ahead. Have you’re way,” he spread his arms opened and barred his throat at her.

She scoffed at his words. Jude, to his surprise, neared him. She pressed her body against his and Cardan was distracted by the warmth of her soft body. Jude reached toward his belt and for a second, his heart jumped into his throat and clogged his airways.

He heard the sound of metal and realized that she was yanking his sword out of its place at his side. She shot him an arrogant smile and with two quick moves, Cardan was pinned beneath her.

“Oh, I plan on it, High King,” she said from above him.

Cardan’s head was spinning from the fall and from her. He was relieved beyond words when she finally lifted herself off of him and tossed his sword beside him.

“Up,” she demanded. “Playtime is over. Let me see your stance.” She stood a few feet away from him and regarded him with the cold eyes of an instructor.

Cardan groaned, rising to his feet and trying his best to remember what he had been taught. Something about balancing his weight on both feet and bending his knees. He felt like a child playacting the role of a soldier. The High King was actually fighting with himself to keep from blushing under Jude’s intense gaze.

“No, like this,” she came beside him and used her hands to guide his torso into the proper position. Her foot came out and separated his feet a bit. She stood back to admire her adjustments.

“If you wanted to get your hands on me there were much easier ways of doing so,” there was a tightness in his throat that Cardan tried to swallow down.

She ignored him completely. “Pick up the blade and prepare yourself for an attack. Show me how you would defend yourself.”

He stared at her through narrowed eyes. “You want me to pretend that I’m being hit?”

“No, the goal is to not get stabbed. I want you to pretend someone is trying to hit you,” she sounded exasperated.

“Why don’t you just hit me yourself?” He must have been out of his mind. Madness is the only explanation for why he was asking her to attack him.

“You couldn’t defend yourself against me even if I was blindfolded,” Jude laughed. “Need I remind you of the Summer Tournament?”

That made Cardan flinch despite his best efforts to hide it. He needed no reminder of the humiliation he had felt that day. The way Jude had stood before him, looking like Heaven’s awful glory with her blade whirling this way and that. Then the way Balekin had broken stick after stick on his back for Cardan’s incompetent sword skills.

A look of shame passed over Jude’s face when she noticed the way his eyes darkened. “Fine, if you want me to hit you then I will. Try to block my blows.”

All he could do was nod. Against his better judgment, Cardan lifted his sword.

Tags: @ourbooksuniverse @notyourclassicshadowhunter (this is my first time doing tags so let me know if you would like to be added to the list and/or if I forgot to add you!)

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