Folk of the Air One-Shots

Why Don't You Just Drop Dead?

"I don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it. 

She said "what are you waiting for?"

Kiss her, kiss her

I set my clocks early, 'cause I know I'm always late". 

Takes place "during" the Queen of Nothing, I guess, but no spoilers. I haven't written in forever so please excuse me if this is bad, I just have so much love for this series and nothing to do with it. 

Nobody told me that marriage was this difficult. I knew it wouldn't be like the movies Vivi watched back in her apartment, but I wasn't expecting this much...fighting. Screaming. Going to sleep in our old rooms and not making eye contact until the party that night when we're drunk enough on power and wine to forget what we were arguing about in the first place. 

Tonight, however, the bickering starts early. As soon as we wake up, in fact, with the sun 3/4ths of the way across the sky. 

"We haven't spoken to the Living Council in weeks, Cardan. Unless you want this whole damn world to fall into inter-court conflict, we need to speak with them," I'm saying, combing my hair hard enough that chunks might fall out. Drips from my still wet hair are soaking the shoulders of my dressing gown, but it's the least of my concerns at the moment. 

"I don't understand why you need me. You act like you don't want me around all the time, but when I'm willing to cede my political responsibilities I'm all of a sudden your favorite companion." Cardan's frustratingly even voice floats into our bedchamber from the attached bathroom, where he's lounging casually in a steaming bath. He has one toned leg draped over the lip of the tub, and the opposite arm is tangled in his own air. He's the image of relaxation, and I can't stand it. 

I stomp into the marble room, making eye contact with him through the mirror. Cardan. The High King. My husband. 

"You're perfectly capable of the political handlings of Elfhame, much as I'm perfectly capable of being the devastatingly handsome figurehead," he continues. "You married me for power--we both know it. So take the fucking power, Jude. I'm giving it to you." His tone remains even and unbothered, making me want to strangle him more. How did I think this relationship could work? 

"Lest you forget, I'm mortal." Cardan opens his mouth, but I continue before he can cut me off. "They don't take me seriously, and I don't have your skill with persuasion. Is it so bothersome to take five minutes out of your oh-so-busy day to come be an actual king?"

The king in reference finally sits up, now resting his elbows on the golden edge of the tub. He looks at me through the mirror with large, unreadable eyes for a moment too long. I open my mouth to tell him to hurry up and say whatever he was going to say,  but he does so without my goading. 

"I didn't know they didn't take you seriously."

Of course he didn't. 

"I thought that, when you became queen, it would garner respect. I thought that, maybe, people would forget that you're not from here."

"Well, they didn't," I tell him, but the edge I intended to have in my voice is dull. "They didn't, and I need you." I finally turn to face Cardan, and I expect to see a self-satisfied smirk at the confession of my need. Instead, I make eye contact with the same blank stare from before. 

"I'll go with you, at least for now. But don't expect this conversation to stay in here. The Council, the revelers--everyone. They're going to be taught to respect you, however that needs to be done". 

There's a threat in the High King's words, reminding me of the power he holds and, oddly enough, the confidence he gives me in myself. Even when he was constantly trying to make me doubt myself, he's only ever encouraged me to try harder. To prove him wrong, and now, to prove them wrong. 

I stand there for a moment more, speechless, before leaving wordlessly to get ready for the Council meeting in less than an hour. The exhale that follows me out of the room is proof enough that Cardan will be out and readying with me soon, and it's almost a relief. I'm still mad at him, but it's quickly fading as I put on my most regal looking gown and start braiding my hair around the crown I place atop it. 

Cardan's out of the tub now, and I place the last hair pen as he wraps his still naked body around me from behind.

"Do you think we fight too much?" I ask him, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach that forms when I think about the implications of my questions. 

Cardan looks thoughtful for a minute, but keeps his arms around me and his nose in my hair. "Maybe. But when have we not fought? It's how we communicate."

"Well, I don't like it," I say rather sheepishly. "I want to communicate without feeling like you're going to reject my title or start taking other women here when I'm back in my room seething. I want to get along with you. I don't want this to be a purely political alliance."

"I've never seen it as a political alliance," he says equally softly. "We'll work on it, okay? We have years ahead of us to get marriage right. We have years ahead of us to get everything right, and we'll do it."

He unwraps himself from me and moves to his own wardrobe to get ready, while I grab some glitter from my own desk to apply to the high points of his face. We don't talk for the rest of the hour, but by the time we're being escorted by our guards to the meeting room the knot in my stomach's unraveled.