sterngaze | open post

[Somehow, Liem manages to be a little startled at just how quickly Cardan's calm mask turns to surprise — and then to rage. He has fielded no shortage of glares from his husband even in just the last several days, but he'd thought this matter settled already. If Cardan wants to convince him to change his mind, he'll need to change his own first. It's as simple as that.

Liem isn't discounting that possibility just yet. After all, he has no real guarantee that he can accomplish what he's promised to attempt. Presumably if Cardan feels threatened enough by remaining at his side with no progress towards their objective, he'll call the whole thing off.]

Nothing especially complex, [he admits.] For now it's just the usual framework: information-gathering, setup, execution. What we find out in the initial phase will heavily affect what kind of moves I'd want to make.

[He eyes his husband, who looks ready to argue at a moment's notice.]

I'd want to draw on local resources, so my plan in a broad sense is to look for advantages, weaknesses, allies who might be willing to make the final move. And then create an opportunity, and go in for the kill.

[Ideally the one doing the actual killing is someone else, since Liem doesn't want to be anywhere near the High King's favourite prince when he's murdered, but he's flexible on that. The most important part is that Dain definitely dies at the end.]

[ The usual framework prompts a sterner frown; somehow, these don't seem to be the words of a man who is engaging in this kind of intrigue for the first time. Cardan knows that should be good news -- if they're going to engage in suicidal insanity, better that at least one of them knows the tricks of the trade. It's just that it hasn't occurred to him that his buttoned-up, reasonable husband would be the one to calmly recite the steps to-- what? A political assassination?

He wonders just how much about Liem he doesn't know. Certainly the past twenty-four hours have been illustrative.

And then there is one other thing. ]

You expect me to help you murder my brother.

[ The black stare on Liem is scornful; Cardan's mouth twists in something like disillusionment. He's aware of how this sounds -- how contrary to both their cultures his disapproval should be. But he cannot let go of it and cannot pretend to be alright with the premise of going after Dain's life. Especially Dain's life. ]

[For a long moment, after Cardan speaks, Liem simply looks at him. His expression goes quiet as he takes in every detail of his husband's stare, filing it away with excruciating precision. He needs the time just to find his tongue again, but even when he does, his voice is soft.]

What else, Cardan?

[His eyes feel glued to his husband's face. In his suppositions about the myriad ways in which this venture might prove hopeless, this possibility did not occur to him. He had not dared to think that Cardan would refuse to condone Dain's killing outright. The revelation falls on him like a weight, landing square on his chest.]

Did you imagine I decided to risk my own life for anything less than your permanent safety from him?

[What would be the purpose? He understands the desire for forbearance, but there is no way they could leave Dain alive without inviting his retribution. And for toppling power such as his, he imagines his retribution, once realized, would be imaginative indeed.]

He already tried to kill you to protect his ambitions. I'd just as soon not add vengeance to the list of reasons he might desire your blood. My father would leave no stone unturned in hunting those who had thwarted him; you cannot expect me to think him any different.

Your father, unlike Dain, cannot be bound by his word alone.

[ This is a familiar argument. Every single person Cardan knows would side with his husband in this. Even Dain himself would probably agree that if they were to come for him, they should hope to kill him.

But therein lies the problem. For as long as Cardan remembers, death was dispensed around him as casually as a morning greeting. Lady Liriope, her unborn child poisoned for the misfortune of carrying Dain's child. Balekin's servants, starving and dull-eyed, their thin limbs moving as if through a dream. A careless pixie at a late-night revel, having played one too many tricks on a pack of goblins. Enough deaths that he can no longer count them all, and yet he feels their weight.

He remembers the last time he had a similar discussion with Balekin, and how that had ended with more scars on his back.

He will pick up his glass and rise. His smile is thin. ]

We are learning much about each other this morning, so let me add one more thing to the list: I am no killer. And if the price for my life is becoming as monstrous as Dain, then I would refuse to pay.

As disappointing as that may be to you.

[ I didn't ask you to do this, he doesn't add, because Liem is right: they have been over it already. ]

[For the first time since Cardan accosted him in the bath, several days and an eternity ago, Liem feels bitterness burn like bile in the pit of his stomach. Unlike that occasion, by the time his husband has finished speaking and the burn is at its worst, he is present enough to let the shock simply pass through him, leaving him still and quiet but for the unrelenting buzz of nerves beneath his skin. Now he simply looks up at him with the same solemn, even expression he wears for unhappy clients who need someone on which to vent their frustrations.]

I see. Then I was mistaken in expecting such from you.

[It is true that Dain is unlike his father, and unlike every enemy Liem has ever had, in that his word might serve to keep his fangs away from Cardan's throat forever. He does not know how likely Dain is to agree to such a vow, nor how one might go about forcing his compliance. It does not matter; the possibility lies temptingly before them, remote as it might be. A way for Cardan to protect himself, without becoming a terrible monster whose hands are stained with blood.

How nice it must be to still have such a choice.]

What then, Cardan, would you suggest?

[ It's annoying. Somehow, that pointedly calm response feels like a dismissal, like Cardan is the one being unreasonable -- except he is not the one dragging them on this fool quest, nor the one blithely suggesting murder. His eyes narrow. ]

This plan is one of your making, not mine. You have but blackmailed me into it by wagering your life.

[ So why does Liem expect him to provide any solutions? He's going to drain his glass, obviously rankled, and stalk over to the cabinet for a refill. ]

But if you want an alternate solution, I suggest putting a crown on any head beside Dain's. Even Balekin would make a better High King.

[ How might one do that? He has no idea, but surely it cannot be that much harder than killing Dain and getting away with it. Both seem about as easy as emptying an ocean with a sugar spoon.

He huffs out a resigned breath. ]

Of course, if he does, I doubt you'll have to worry about Dain drawing breath much past his coronation.

[As Liem watches Cardan drain his glass, alive with irritation, he is reminded of the neglected drink in his own hand. Somehow the turn of their conversation managed to make him forget it entirely; he glances down at it, then leans forward to abandon it on the low table. He cannot summon any interest in its contents at present.]

That sounds like a roundabout way of reaching the same conclusion.

[If Balekin were to claim the Blood Crown and execute Dain upon his victory, would Cardan feel absolved of blame for his death? Even if he were the one to place the crown upon his brother's head? If this seems dishonest to Liem, he at least has the presence of mind not to say so outright.

He does wonder some at Cardan's choice to frame his refusal to leave his side as blackmail, as him holding himself hostage in the face of danger, as though he were using his life as currency to buy Cardan's cooperation. From his desire to end their marriage, he'd seemed ready enough to be rid of Liem altogether. How inconsistent of him, to seek to cast him off, only to then insist on preserving him like something of value. But then, it seems Cardan's wont to live by his own personal set of rules.]

You would not really be satisfied with such a result, would you?

If thinking of it like that comforts you, by all means. But what Balekin chooses to do has never been within my control.

[ Cardan does not consider it to be the same. It's just that the set of choices they're presented with is both limited and complex. Liem is right: many of them lead to death. In the past, Cardan has sidestepped responsibility by choosing to do nothing at all.

But someone has seen fit to rob him of the option.

Having poured another glass, he will turn around to lean against the counter. ]

I will not mourn Dain if one of his many victims chooses to avenge themselves tomorrow. He has taken much from me and tried to take yet more. But if you are asking me to aid an assassination, my answer is still no.

[ Liem isn't the only obstinate creature in this room. Cardan levels an irritated gaze on him. ]

Think me unreasonable if you must.

[ His tone implies this is a challenge. ]

[For a short while, when Cardan first objected to the idea of causing Dain's death, Liem thought he might yet foster some familial affection for his brother, despite everything. It did not seem impossible; despite Liem's own grievances about his father, he cannot imagine his home without Iago in it. Although he dearly wishes to be free of his manipulation, he does not want to see him dead.

That does not seem to be the case for Cardan. Liem does not understand how his husband can divorce himself from the consequences of crowning a brother he knows to seek Dain's blood, and yet feel responsible for the actions of a husband who is scarcely more than a stranger to him, but clearly it is simply the idea of causing Dain's death himself that bothers him.

So be it. He did not think his task would be easy when he first insisted on attempting it. If he is meant to protect what remains of his husband's innocence along with his life, then he will attempt the challenge to the best of his ability.

He sighs, aiming his gaze away from Cardan's annoyed one.]

Then we will do this your way, though I cannot say I have any experience with crowning someone.

[As opposed to certain other activities not fit for civilized discussion.]

[ He watches Liem for a moment. Perhaps he should feel guilty about his husband's resignation; after all, his existence seems to forever heap more work onto Liem's well-attired shoulders. But Cardan cannot feel anything but grim triumph at his victory.

For once, he doesn't gloat. ]

Then we both ought to learn.

[ And so they do. In addition to the -- indeed -- truly astonishing amount of extra work the decision brings, Cardan finds himself in the strange and new role of an instructor. He pulls his old textbooks off the shelves of his study: histories and ballads of Mab's fabled conquests, of her progeny and their progeny thereafter. He instructs his husband in the intricacies of Faerie etiquette and the minutiae of century-long feuds. He retells the story of Eldred's exiling the old Alderking and how the new Alderking, Severin, killed his own father in a duel to take his throne. Cardan speaks of each of his siblings and their influence over the High Court, though he studiously avoids details of his own childhood. All along, there are still revels to attend and regular business to conduct, not to mention time for themselves, which Cardan insists on, even if it is just coiling himself around Liem in the dark of late morning to steal a few lingering kisses and the pleasure of skin against skin.

It's exhausting, which is probably why he's tired all the time.

On this particular evening, he has spent the better part of an hour staring at a pile of incomprehensible receipts. Gusairne had dumped the avalanche of paper in his lap with the scornful implication that Cardan was too stupid to do some simple accounting math. At this point in the game, Cardan suspects it would indeed be easier to find the wretched vampire and toss him in a lake together with the evidence.

He elects to go in search of more wine instead. On his way to the cellars, however, something strange strikes him: the air is different, and in a way unfamiliar to him -- there is a crisp dryness his nose cannot place. He notes a servant walk by with dampness atop the crown of her head and asks her whether it's storming outside.

Fifteen minutes later, he bursts into Liem's study and stalks up to his desk to put hands all over his papers. ]

Cancel your meetings, [ Cardan will demand, in the tone he usually reserves for demands of a royal nature. ] There is snow, and I wish to go see it.

[Once Liem has agreed to submit to Cardan's wishes in their scheme, all that follows is work: long weeks and endless mountains of it, filling almost every waking moment in between functions and parties. The amount of work they yet need to do only seems to grow the more of it they complete, as each thing Liem learns about Faerie only serves to illuminate the many gaps in his understanding of that realm and its people. He can see no end to it, and some nights he suspects their schedules will remain thus until they either complete their objective or Dain succeeds in releasing them from their toils permanently.

Likewise, a persistent and aching loneliness seems to have taken root in him, and what moments of intimacy they manage to steal only serve to make it worse. Liem can only be glad that Iago did not notice his discontent in the day following his discussion with Cardan, when he'd cloistered himself again in his office to weather the worst of the sting; he does not know what he would have said to his father then if he had swooped upon him with his familiar brand of comfort. He does not trust himself to have refused him.

It matters little. There is nothing to do but continue or admit defeat altogether, and he has already made his decision where that possibility is concerned. At least the work keeps him too busy to dwell on pointless things, which in his view is one of work's primary benefits. He is deep in the midst of planning for an upcoming dinner his father is hosting, up to his eyeballs in details for the menu and entertainments, when his husband bursts into his office looking considerably more animated than when he'd left.]

… is there?

[He blinks up at Cardan, wearing a mild, vaguely confused expression. He hadn't expected it to snow yet, with the solstice still some weeks away, but even in autumn he wouldn't typically consider this news to be worth more than mild interest.

After another moment, he seems to register fully what Cardan had said.]

Cancel them?

[To go look at snow?]

That is what I said.

[ Sometimes, for all his competence, Liem is spectacularly slow on the uptake. But Cardan is too enthralled by the weather to be excessively annoyed by it -- just impatient. He will move around the desk and attempt to tug his workaholic spouse out of his seat and against him, grinning his most charming grin. ]

Better yet, have your seneschal earn his keep and cancel them for you.

[ --well. Perhaps not all of it is merely excitement. He's at times felt tension between them in the weeks after the attempted assassination, and chalked it up to Liem regretting his choice to take on Cardan's burdens. Now and then, Cardan has had to clamp down on the urge to ask him whether he was truly sure this was the path he wanted.

He hadn't, because he's not certain he'd like the answer. Besides, it seems pointless.

So the snow is as good an excuse as any. And it's not like he isn't looking forward to it -- Elfhame's winters are exceedingly mild. Most of the snowflakes he'd seen had been in the elaborate braids of trolls visiting from the North, who seemed to carry their chill with them. ]

We are due for an expedition, lest you forget what the world outside this study looks like.

[ And the last time they went out on an adventure in the woods, the result had been surprisingly positive. Perhaps Cardan can hope for more of the same. ]

[Liem is still considering the import of a bit of snow to his husband when Cardan circles the desk to tug him up and out of his chair, demanding his attention more insistently. He had been fairly insistent to begin with, so Liem is forced to acknowledge that he's not going to be getting any more work done this evening. Or at any time tonight, apparently; the word expedition leaves little room for doubt.]

I recall what snow looks like, thank you.

[He objects drily, even as he slides an arm automatically around Cardan's waist. He doesn't need a reminder of what the outdoors are like — but it is difficult to weather his husband's charming insistence and tempting forest scent and not wish to follow him outside to disappear into the woods. He has spent so much time in his office of late that he doesn't even register its familiar leather-and-paper smell anymore, and the sameness of it might be driving him just a little insane.

Well, the estate will not fall into shambles if he takes a night off, just this once.]

… But very well. Since it's the first one of the season, let us go see your snow.

[Gusairne has been looking a little too smug of late regardless. Perhaps it will help him stay humble to weather their surprise absence.]

[ Cardan will not be dissuaded from his good humour, even by the little barb of a thank you. He still has Liem's acquiescence, after all, and if his husband wants to bitch about having his tidy little plans upended, that is his due. He only grins and brings Liem's hand up so he can brush his mouth against his cool knuckles. ]

You can tell me if it looks as it should, then.

[ And, before Liem can change his mind, Cardan will turn around and pull him outside the study.

He will have to be reminded to bundle up. Most of their excursions from and to the carriage are hardly worth throwing on an overcoat for, but this time, his valet insists on gloves, a scarf, and tall boots in addition to a coat that is less sleek but significantly heavier. Cardan even accepts a fur-trimmed hat, though he wears it rakishly askew in deference to style.

Having been sufficiently protected from the chill, he will herd Liem outside. He had taken a peek out one of the few windows the estate has, only to spot surprisingly fat, lazy snowflakes falling over a landscape gentled by the accumulation of snow -- an exciting amount of it. It has, evidently, been snowing for a while.

He wonders what it will look like in the woods and whether they ought to take the faerie horses out for a ride. ]

[Despite Liem's commitment to his work, and despite the wariness that has crept over him of late, he allows his spouse to pull him out of his office and toward the manor's main exit. He is entirely ready to stroll out the door in only boots, slim gloves and a light woollen coat, so it's just as well that the house staff are used to the bitter sting of the cold, and attentive enough to insist on dressing Cardan at least properly for it. He watches in patient good humour as his husband is thoroughly bundled up so they can venture out into the chill.

There is more snow on the ground than he'd been expecting. The earliness of the season had made him suppose they would walk outside into a light flurry, but the night air is filled with fat, fluffy snowflakes, and the landscape is already blanketed in a heavy blanket of white. He stops after only a few steps, calf-deep in snow, to regard the transformation that has been wrought upon the manor grounds.]

I did not realize there would be this much of it. It must have been storming all day.

[Even for him, familiar as he is with snowy winters, the sight is pleasantly surprising. His expression brightens visibly with satisfaction as he looks out toward the treeline and then back at Cardan.]

Does it never snow at all in Elfhame?

[ Cardan lifts his face to the chill air. The cold, subtle scent of fresh snow is lovely; the strange, muffled quiet and the brush snowflakes against his face, the crunch under his boots -- all are satisfyingly novel experiences. But the thing he likes most is how the tension in Liem's face makes room for something else, if only incrementally.

Perhaps he should have done this sooner. ]

Not like this.

[ He reaches out to pluck a snowflake, fat as a bumblebee, from Liem's shoulder-- though when he tries to examine it, it only falls apart, becoming significantly diminished in the process. ]

The moods of the monarch affect the weather, and Eldred has not much patience for storms nor cold snaps.

[ But that's neither here nor there. He shakes the last of the snow off his fingers and smiles at Liem, pleased to have surprised him despite his initial skepticism. ]

I want to see the forest.

[ That is true, but he also wishes to be away from the house. The past few weeks have made him rather aware of Iago's presence permeating every room. Of course, it was ever his father-in-law's household; it's just that Cardan has never had so many reasons to avoid his attention. ]

Edited 2023-02-06 08:09 (UTC)

[Now that they are outside, Liem has to admit that he'd been missing this. The soft white stretch of the landscape about them promises an escape from the reams of paperwork and educational texts that have dominated his nights of late, and he is quietly charmed by the novelty with which his husband seems to regard the turn in the weather. It is a relief to simply be alone with him and the peace of the snow-filled night.

Would he ever see nights like this, if the weather changed according to his mood? He doubts it. He is so obsessed with consistency in his life that he cannot imagine it would storm any more often here than in Elfhame were that the case. And that would be a shame, for all that he doubts he could be any other way.

Fortunately, Liem is not in charge of moderating the weather; and fortunately, he is married to a man who will drag him out in it whether or not it's convenient to do so.]

Then we shall.

[He returns his smile, and starts moving again, taking Cardan's arm in his as he crunches through the untrodden snow. Already snowflakes are coming to roost in his hair; he'll likely become covered in them if they spend much longer outside the cover of the trees.]

Perhaps we could ride? There are trails we could follow deeper into the wood.

I would like that.

[ He's still not used to this strange companionability -- which is stupid because they're married, but perfectly sensical when looking at the strange and twisted path their betrothal had taken them on. Regardless, Cardan will follow where his husband leads him, which is presumably to the stables. The giant moth is sleeping -- the low temperatures having put it into something like hibernation. No matter; the skies would have been uncomfortably cold, Cardan thinks.

Horses it is. Regardless of how amusing it might have been to revisit Liem holding on to him for dear life.

The snow continues to fall relentlessly as they make their way to the tree line. Cardan is lucky -- as with their previous excursion, the moon is full and bright, and though clouds cover it, enough light shines through them to be reflected off the soft white cover. The wood itself looks transformed; Cardan will reach out to brush fingers along an overhanging brand and laugh when it dumps the accumulated snow onto his head, spilling icy powder into his hair and down his collar. He doesn't mind; it's less chilly outside than the servants made him anticipate, and he's sure he'll find a way to keep warm, regardless.

He wishes to pull the same trick on Liem, but that would give away the greater of his plans for merriment, and it is not time for that yet. ]

It's so quiet, [ he says instead. There are sounds -- the far-away snap of a branch under the weight, the ever-present whispers of night creatures -- but the wood seems as wrapped in a duvet, muffled and peaceful. Even their own noises seem muted against it. ]

[Unlike the previous occasion on which they'd visited the woods, Liem is undeniably pleased by the prospect of a ride — perhaps because the chill and the swirling snowflakes make the idea of flying especially unlikely. Also unlike that occasion, Liem has had at least marginally more sleep. As they make for the stables, he tips his face up to glance contentedly at the snow as it drifts down out of the dark.

It has been some time since he took a ride through the forest. Too long, he decides as they fetch the handsome faerie horses and ride out to the edge of the wood. He had been so busy in the weeks leading up to his wedding, and scarcely less so after it was done. But when he glances over at Cardan to see him alight with laughter and coated in a heavy dusting of snow, and he thinks of all the time they'd spent dancing uselessly around each other in the first weeks of their union, he can't help but feel that he's been thoroughly wasting his time.]

It is. That's one of my favourite things about fresh snowfall.

[Some of the nighttime creatures hide from the chill, as well, so the forest always seems so still after a good, heavy snow. It is very different from the bustle of the estate, which always sounds faintly of creaking floors, groaning pipes, and people moving about their duties.]

It can be very bright, too, when it's clear. Not like daylight, but still very lovely.

[ Cardan cannot -- and doesn't -- help the smug grin he directs Liem's way, even as he shakes himself free of the worst of the snow. Someone with less obnoxious self-assurance would have backed off, he imagines, not dragged Liem out here, and thoroughly missed the chance to see him so: astride on his faerie steed, snowflakes in his hair, lecturing on the charms of the winter wood.

Thankfully, Cardan is exactly as obnoxious as he needs to be. ]

It's lovely now, and you ought to listen to me more often.

[ Of course, if Liem did, they would probably end up in far more trouble than they already are. But sometimes Cardan thinks that would be worth it for moments like these. ]

Well? Shall we find your hill, Master Liem?

[ He'll make an exaggerated little bow, deeply courtly and distinctly unserious. It almost loses him his hat. ]

I am at your mercy in these unfamiliar woods.

[ That's not exactly accurate in terms of the woods; even in the alien snowscape, he feels more at home than he ever had inside four walls. But it is true when it comes to his husband, in more ways than one. ]

[Liem's lips curve as he observes his husband's smug demeanour.]

You are so cheeky this evening.

[Cardan can be such a menace, but he prefers him like this, unruly and in good humour, to tired and irritable, as he too often has been of late. Liem is used to working himself to the bone, but it seems wrong that his husband should be wearing himself out as well, even if recent circumstances have made it necessary.

He is not even bothered by Cardan's playful attempt at subservience, for all that he has stubbornly rejected similar overtures in the past. If there is mockery in the act, he is too content to mind it.]

Very well; let's not loiter. I'm sure the horses are keen to stretch their legs.

[Frankly so is he, so he leads them further into the trees with Cardan's requested destination in mind, eager to find the hillside that was so pleasantly green mere weeks ago. Often his visits there have been on foot, so the path he guides the horses on is somewhat winding by comparison, but it is a fine night and the forest is comfortably quiet around them, as if, like the daytime creatures, it too is sleeping.

He asks, curiously,] Are my family's woods very different from those you used to frequent?

[ For a time, Cardan doesn't answer -- he's considering their surroundings with a mind towards the difference. The woods do seem enchanted, like this, but on the whole-- ]

The Milkwood is rather more full of screams at this time of night, [ he'll finally offer. Sounds of pleasure and of pain alike, full of the light of distant bonfires and the discordant notes of faerie instruments carried on a sea breeze. ] But then everything in my home is... more. More vibrant. More dangerous. More alive.

[ If he's wistful about it, he doesn't take the time to dwell. Instead he'll glance at Liem with an arched eyebrow. ]

And there are no Folk in your woods. That's unusual.

[ Not a sprite nor an imp scurrying by, invisible to anyone without True Sight. He suspects the difference there is vampires, but without any of his kin to ask, it's hard to know for sure. ]

[The first answer Cardan offers is not one that Liem expects. He aims a raised eyebrow back at him, curious, as he continues; he wonders what kinds of screams would be usual in a Faerie forest, and what kinds of dangers.

Though perhaps it makes sense, in a slightly ironic way, that the woods in the domain of vampires would be safer than those of Cardan’s home. After all, most vampires prefer to stalk more civilized areas, where there are plenty of humans to drink from and well-furnished basements to rest in during the day. And nothing in these lands is more dangerous than the vampires who dwell here.

And of course the fae, with no fear of the sun and no love for iron, would prefer the shelter of the woods, with whatever dangers and thrills that might imply. But although these woods rarely see any vampires, it is no surprise that they are devoid also of fair folk visitors.]

If there were Folk staying here, my father would certainly expect them to pay rent.

[It’s a joke, though a rather dry one. Liem has always known his father to insist on having complete control over the lands in his domain; he would never allow fair folk to wander his forests ungoverned. But he has no wish to spend time discussing his father when they’ve finally managed to escape his house for the night.]

You have such interesting things to say about Faerie. I must admit, I am very curious to see it.

[ Cardan's smile back is full of sharp edges, but they are -- for once -- co-conspiratorial. ]

He might find our payment more perilous than it is worth.

[ Though as amusing as the thought of Iago feuding with a tricksy hag (or something) (or other) may be, he thinks it is rather lucky that they have avoided the issue. They have enough problems on their hands without any extra complications.

He sighs, then tilts his head back once more to watch the fall of snow towards him, seemingly endless. With the house out of sight and the woods so strangely attired, he can almost believe they are entirely elsewhere. And though he is loath to speak about work here of all places, Liem's questions have reminded him of a necessary change in their plans. ]

I will have to go see Balekin.

[ If he wants some access to the wealth of Balekin's coffers, anyway. He had thought, for a while, that he could get away with a warm letter and much flattery, but the tone of his brother's return missiles has been distinctly frosty. For all his brutality, Balekin is not stupid; he knows Cardan wants something, and he would have him beg for it in person. ]

...but I could go alone, this time. Elfhame is rather overwhelming.

[ For a first time, he doesn't add, because it should be obvious. All the preparation had been with Fairfold in mind -- a smaller court, with a king more tolerant to the ways of Ironside. The High Court is a different beast entirely. ]

[Despite himself, Liem feels a flash of amusement at the prospect of his father being frustrated by a rash of difficult faerie tenants. He wouldn't truly wish for such a situation — not least of all because he would almost certainly end up becoming involved — but his father has caused him too much frustration for him not to find the idea at least a little pleasing.

What Cardan says next is less pleasing. A frown appears between Liem's brows as he considers first whether it would be safe for Cardan to go on such a trip without him, and then whether his coming along would actually be any help to his husband at all. It occurs to him that he might be suggesting that Liem stay home to avoid bringing along an inconvenient liability.

Liem hesitates, staring sternly into the wood as he considers.]

Would you… prefer to go alone?

[He would be lying if he claimed he was confident about navigating Elfhame's High Court, especially at this point; but when he feels anxiety about venturing there, it is because of the possible difficulties he might create for them, and for Cardan, if he were to make a misstep. Even now, despite the things he has heard about Faerie's courts, he still can't summon much worry for himself.]

I don't wish to cause trouble for us, but I will need to visit eventually.

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