Jurdan Oneshots

9

( cardans pov )

We're on The Isle of Insweal, battling off creatures Orlagh has sent to attack the land. I'm trying hard to stand my ground with one of the many swords I've been gifted since becoming King.

Jude has been making an effort to help me better my swordsmanship but I never much paid attention.

I thought as long as I could play the picture of the entertaining King with my Queen cleaning up the mess, it'd all be fine.

But things have changed since I was under her control.

I have to be able to lead. I've known this since Oak put the damned crown on my head. Knew I did love Elfhame as soon as I broke the crown and turned into a giant serpent for it. Knew I would sacrifice myself so long as it meant my subjects and my wife would be safe.

I never saw myself as much of a loving person but here I am, defending my land with everything I have.

A subject of Orlaghs launches herself toward me and I shove the hilt of my sword onto her head. Not enough to kill her, just knock her out.

I said I would never be a murderer and I still stand by that.

I am not the greatest ruler Elfhame has seen. I am not even close to it. But I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to be put in charge of an entire kingdom and have so much responsibility. I never thought I would be King, considering I had more than enough siblings who actually wanted the crown. But that all changed once Balekin killed them all.

The past few years of my life are lost within hazes of drinking myself too close to danger, kissing people whose names I barely remembered, and fawning over a certain brown-haired mortal.

The one worth fawning over, of course.

Without her, I am not sure I could be the King I have become.

I try to think of more sword attacks from my practices with Jude but before I can do anything, a blood curdling scream rips through the air.

I freeze

That voice.

I'm shoving past people, seafolk and Faes alike. I yell her name, my eyes scanning the grounds as fast as I can. Soon, I'm running, trying to find where the sound came from.

I come to a skidding halt once I see the scene in front of me.

Orlagh is standing above Jude with a longsword in her hand while Jude is splayed across the ground, Nightfell mere inches away from her hand.

Neither of them see me. I want to march right up to Orlagh and punch her in the face until she's drowning in blood but my feet won't move.

Because I realize one of them is drowning in blood.

Except it's not who I was hoping for.

Blood pours out from a wound I didn't realize Jude had.

No.

Multiple wounds.

Blood on her lower abdominal, blood on her shoulder, blood on her thigh, blood soaking through her clothes, her olive skin.

How did this happen?

Orlagh only laughs. "This is why mortals cannot become queens."

She takes her sword and dives it through Jude's palm. She screams in agony, except she's not the one screaming.

I am.

Orlaghs head flips to me and she laughs again.

"Oh, this is just perfect. I get to torture The High Queen while The High King watches?" She cackles and I take the chance to launch myself at her. She falls and I'm sitting on top of her waist, beating the shit out of her face until my fists are coated in blood. I feel someone attempt to pull me off her but I push them away.

They try again and this time I let them. I'm panting, and my fists hurt like hell. I look over at Jude to see her eyes closed and her breathing slow.

No.

No no no.

I rush to her side and my hand goes to her good shoulder. "Jude. Jude, please open your eyes. I can't-- I--" I lose control of my breathing and tiny specks cover my vision.

Someone puts their hand on my back and I look over to see Grima Mog. She's almost as shocked as I was to see Jude like this. People start gathering around behind us, but I don't care if they're watching me.

I can't lose Jude.

I turn to the knights surrounding us and yell at them to get help. They hesitate before running off. I shift my attention back to my wife.

Jude. My love. My queen.

Come back to me.

I grab a cloth someone nearby offers me and I press it onto her shoulder, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

"More. I need more!" All of a sudden, everyone is offering me tissues and towels. I take the ones I can reach and press them onto her wounds.

I hope I am doing the right thing.

Grima Mog takes some of them and cleans the blood off Jude. She applies a clean towel on Judes thigh and I see her wince.

My eyes widen.

"Jude?" My voice is shaking and I probably seem weak right now but I couldn't give a damn.

Her breathing is returning to normal and I see her eyes fluttering, just about ready to open--

"Move! Stop crowding Her Highness!" A healer appears out of nowhere with several of my guards behind her.

I nod to them and they nod back.

The healer moves toward Jude and begins examining her wounds. When she notices everyone is still watching, she shoos them away. I stay, watching her apply ointment to Judes wounds. She goes back and forth, putting all sorts of things on Jude.

Finally, she stands, bowing to me. "Your Highness. The Queen is fine." I let out a sigh of relief.

"But she won't be able to walk for at least a month and she may not use her right arm at all." I nod, knowing what this means.

She won't be able to attend council meetings and she'll be stuck in our bed for the majority of the month.

I'm just glad she's safe.

"When will she wake?" I ask. The healer glances over at Jude and then back to me.

"Her body needs all the rest it can get. Mortals heal slower than we do and require much more time before they are back to normal. If she has not woken before tomorrow morning, I will come examine her, if that is alright with you."

I nod a few times and she bows then leaves.

I walk over to Jude and sit down next to her. Her face has a few scratches but nothing too bad. I move the hair clinging to her face and lean in to kiss her forehead. After a few moments of watching her slowly breathe, I hook an arm underneath Jude's neck then her legs, carrying her off the ground.

I walk over to our carriage and carefully lay her down, her head in my lap. We set off toward the palace as I run my hand along her cheek and realize she has never looked like this.

Peaceful. Her face is almost always at war. fighting with things she won't tell me. But here, in my arms, she looks almost happy. It suits her.

I make a silent promise to myself that I will see this peacefulness on her face again.