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I love me some gen threads, especially funny or drama-filled ones, but I am also shamelessly here for shipping AUs. The general Liem-shipping vibe is "I want more than this, but I shouldn't & they can't possibly want me back," so if you're into that, I've got what you need. His default setting is very D&D-like high fantasy, but I'm comfortable playing him in modern fantasy settings as well. Pretty much any prompt can also accommodate Liem being a full vampire instead of a dhampir, if that's your thing.

Prompts for inspiration:
• Arranged Marriage: Liem's shady vampire family has arranged his marriage to you, but he seems a rather reluctant fiance.
• Bodyguard Shipping: It's Liem's duty to keep you safe and out of trouble, possibly despite your best efforts.
• Companion to Royalty: Reclusive vampire king Liem and YOU! Are you a gift from a local power? Sacrifice from the townsfolk? Or did you just stumble up the road to his castle during a storm?
• Enemies to Lovers: Maybe Liem is a foreign agent trying to sabotage your country or organization. Or maybe you're rebelling against the current regime and he's trying to take you in.
• Fake Dating/Fake Married: A relationship is your cover story while you're travelling for some secret reason. Gotta keep up appearances.
• Hunter & Hunted: Are you a hunter trying to track Liem down? Or a snack that proved more than he bargained for?
• Hurt (Comfort Optional): Whether he's hurt, sick, drugged, or just upset, two things remain constant: Liem needs help, and he doesn't want to accept it. But maybe you don't want to fix him anyway; maybe you want to make him worse.
• Living a Lie: Whether you're undercover on a mission, or you lied to cover something up and now you have to commit, you're stuck playing a role until you accomplish some secret objective — or until you can shake off your nosy company.
• Loss of Control: For whatever reason, one of you is struggling not to go berserk — or perhaps has already failed. If it's Liem, can you help him come back to himself, or are you the one pushing him over the edge?
• Out of the Frying Pan: The classic "tried to help someone in trouble, ended up with a new and possibly worse problem" situation. But at least you're in it together!
• Priest/Celibacy: Default here is that Liem is the priest, but it could go the other way. Smutty, or just laden with UST? You decide.
• Texting: Stupid TFLN-style text threads, my beloved...
• Random Scenario: For if none of the above tickle your fancy.

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[ He doesn't know what Liem is assenting to -- probably the newly voracious tempo of Cardan's fucking, and not the things he said. It doesn't matter. It's not like he needs Liem to confirm what he knows: Cardan's husband is his, for better or for worse, no matter how pragmatic their marriage nor how bloodless their vows. Even if it is selfish for Cardan to claim him -- he has, he does, each time he moves in him, pressing into the tight grip of his body, chasing the pleasure that clutches at them both. Cardan claims him with his hands and with his mouth and with his cock, relentlessly, breathless with avarice.

He doesn't question why he should want this. Even if he were interested in that kind of introspection, he's too caught up in Liem's touch and in his taste, in the way the firelight paints softness over his features. The restless fingers winding in his hair make him shiver, hard, and it's all he can do to watch Liem as they rock closer to the edge of absolute need, breathlessly entwined.

Something in his chest clutches jealously at the press of sharp teeth against Liem's lip, and he doesn't question that, either. And soon enough, it doesn't matter-- soon enough, all he knows is the relentless, overwhelming pleasure that builds and builds and builds until he can only let it crash over him, and hope he takes Liem with him. ]

[Left gasping by the change in Cardan's rhythm, Liem is thrust headlong into the relentlessly overfilled well of his own pleasure, drowned in the slide of their bodies and the brush of hot breath against his skin. He lacks room for all the tender, aching wants that Cardan has stirred up inside him; they build up atop each other until he feels frantic with them, until the pressure of his pleasure and his desire eclipses everything else, and he can only arch back against the rug as his climax overtakes him, his husband's name spilling thoughtlessly, fervently from his lips.

For one long, bright moment, the world narrows to just the heat and friction of Cardan's body, and himself wrapped covetously around him. He cares only for warm, damp skin and dark curls and the bewitching face that is already stamped into his mind's eye, to haunt him even when Cardan is elsewhere. His palm slides from his husband's hair to cup his cheek instead, as he tips his face to steal another breathless kiss.

It takes a while more for him to recall trivial things like their location on his study floor, or the encroaching presence of dawn, or how to construct complex sentences. But fortunately they are in no hurry, and he has the pleasure of Cardan draped over him while he regains his faculties, one by one. He is content in the glow of the fire and the warm, comfortable feeling that settles heavily over him in the wake of their lovemaking, overlaid with that tender affection that remains stubbornly rooted in his chest no matter how soundly his body's wants are satisfied.

It is bewildering and exasperating all at once — or will be, once he locates the part of him that recalls how to be vexed with things. But still.]

Never have I enjoyed such sweet torment, [he murmurs, tracing his thumb idly over Cardan's cheekbone,] as at your merry hands.

[ He recalls the heat of it, later; heat, and the sound of his name, and the graceful arch of Liem's body into his, and his own savage need-- and then he is lost, wild and unfettered for a glorious moment as cool lips quench the heat rising off of his skin. It surprises him each time, just how much he's capable of wanting; he's frightened that one day he'll tell Liem all about it, give himself up willingly to whatever whims his husband might have for his desire.

But not so today.

In the after, while catching his breath, Cardan performs his usual trick of melting in place against Liem's chest, sprawled luxuriously over him before the fire. He feels like a lizard sunning himself against the heat, and the occasional shiver that overtakes him is but a testament to the aftermath of his pleasure.

He is close to slipping into slumber when the quiet rumble of Liem's voice pulls him back. Cardan turns his face from where he'd tucked it against Liem's shoulder, eyes opening to black slivers. He observes him, framed by soft shadows and post-coital glow, and has to fight a sudden urge to say something embarrassing about Liem's beauty (which he is surely not unaware of) or the strange fascination he provokes in Cardan's hitherto shrivelled-up heart.

Instead, his eyebrow quirks. ]

Only my hands, Liem? There is so much of me that delights in tormenting you.

[ An absolutely normal thing to admit to. He tilts his face to nuzzle into Liem's hand like a sleepy cat demanding to be petted. ]

Though I am pleased to be the wickedest of your lovers.

[ That's not what Liem said, but Cardan assumes it is true, anyway. ]

[Liem doesn't quite understand how his husband, who in motion is so breathtaking with poise and mischief and menace, evokes from him such endearment whenever he is at rest. The contentment he gleans from simply lying with him in the fire's glow, wrapped around him while Cardan melts against his chest, unsettles him with its immediate, drugging intensity. Of late, doing so has invited fragile little wants to take up residence next to his heart, and he's afraid that one day they'll grow to consume every part of him.

And still, when his husband turns to nuzzle into his touch, he can only surrender to the ache in his chest as his fingers wander Cardan's skin to caress the shell of his ear. Fond amusement lifts the corners of his mouth as he regards him.]

I can tell.

[Enigma though Cardan can sometimes be, the delight he takes in menacing his husband has ever been plain. But Liem is hardly alone in receiving this dubious honour; it's not like Cardan refrains from menacing the other vampires he crosses paths with. Liem just happens to be the one he's married to.

Which is just everyone else's loss, really, as Liem isn't inclined to share.]

You wear everything well, including your villainy.

[ Somehow, despite feeling thoroughly boneless, Cardan manages to prop himself up on an elbow so that he can look at Liem more fully. His gaze sweeps his husband’s profile, noting the way the firelight caresses the elegant line of his cheekbone, his throat. He raises his hand to run light fingertips over the curve of Liem’s mouth. He looks alarmingly attractive like this, with his hair a little wild, framed by the luxuriant rug.

Cardan thinks his husband could stand to be nude and draped in opulence more often.

His grin is warm, unencumbered by worry or the need for his usual sharp edges. He’s going to echo a question Liem had posed earlier in the night. ]

Is that what you find most alluring about me?

[ Well, he still has one forfeit left to demand from Liem, if they play by the rules of the previous game. And even if they didn’t, Cardan is curious. Out of all the people who might celebrate his wickedness, his husband always seems the most unexpected. ]

[The look that Liem directs up at his husband is easy and warm and inquisitive, comfortable with the slide of dark eyes and warm fingertips over his features. For all that he hasn't always understood Cardan well, being intimate like this feels… uncomplicated. The tangles and thorns of their marriage seem to recede into insignificance when they are bare and wrapped around each other, murmuring conversation across a single breath of distance.

If Liem didn't know better, he might almost think Cardan was actually content to simply be his husband, here in his home, in his father's unmagical domain.]

Hm.

[His fingers find Cardan's wrist, his hand, holds it so he can press unhurried kisses to his fingertips and palm. Pensively. His lips wander down to the pulse inside his wrist, and linger there — but his eyes find Cardan's again as he considers.

It is certainly no secret that Liem finds his husband's mean streak exciting. That has been clear from the very first night Cardan touched him, on that hill in the forest. But is it the most exciting? The most irresistible thing about him?]

No, [he decides, cupping his husband's hand against his cheek.] I think the most alluring thing is the smile you wear sometimes, when something unexpected has delighted you. It looks very handsome on you — moon-bright and a little wild, like the deep woods. And I do not see you wear it as often as I would like, so it is always a pleasure to glimpse.

[ The pulse hastens under the soft caress of Liem's mouth. Cardan lets that considering gaze pierce through him, drawn up with a pleasant tension. Over the past several months, he has found that getting Liem like this -- relaxed and unhurried, tangled with Cardan as if he has not a deadline worth worrying about in this world -- makes it difficult to pull away, even to rest. Already he wants to press closer and kiss Liem's serious mouth, tease the tip of his tongue over the sharp fangs, pull impatience back into the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

But then Liem answers him, and Cardan blinks in surprise. He doesn't flush -- no self-respecting prince of Faerie flushes at a compliment -- but the smile that curls at the corners of his mouth is pleased and not entirely under his control.

His tail curls over Liem's side, somehow smug, even as Cardan leans close to murmur, ] If you're not careful, husband, someone might take you for a romantic.

[ Not Cardan, surely. Cardan is going to be busy kissing him, and he doesn't bother making it anything but soft and slow and tender, dangerously indulgent. And if he feels the flutter of some unnameable anxiety in his belly, he pays it no mind. ]

[The idea that Liem might secretly be a romantic makes mild amusement lift one of his brows, in the brief moment before Cardan's lips find his. If something as simple as liking his husband's smile makes Liem a romantic, what does that say about his wicked husband, who is certainly not immune to the whims of sentiment? He doubts Cardan is ready to accept that moniker also.

No — surely it is the most normal thing in the world to find his husband particularly beautiful in the moments when he is alight with joy. Anyone with eyes would be forced to agree with him.

But silly ideas like that fade to irrelevance under the tender assault of Cardan's mouth, and he turns his attention once more to the far more worthy occupation of thoroughly kissing any fanciful thoughts right out of his husband's head.

Eventually, winter's feeble sun will chase them into sleep, and once their business in town is concluded, there's nothing else to do but return to the main house in order to ready themselves finally for their voyage. Ostensibly the purpose of the trip is simply to visit Cardan's family and home, though Liem doesn't bother disguising his curiosity about Elfhame's markets and politics from his father. If anything, the absence of such would be more suspicious — and he is interested to note which names his father sees fit to mention to him before they part ways.

Then comes a brief trip to the coast, to enjoy the overday hospitality of a rather wizened-looking baronet, before the part of the journey that Liem has been dreading most: an interminable, hours-long flight over the sea itself, which Liem has never before seen from any angle but the shore. It is only at this rather last-minute point that he bothers to mention his aversion to the ocean to his husband, but if Cardan has detected any tension in his spouse as they prepared for this leg of the journey, perhaps this explains it. Liem more resembles now the grave, terminally serious man who attended their wedding than he has for weeks previous, and he is not likely to emerge from under his cloak of sobriety until probably long after they've touched back down onto solid land.]

[ On one hand, they must cross the ocean regardless, whether it be by boat or by mount. The only way to truly avoid it is not to go, which would have been an option, had his husband thought to mention his deathly weakness to ocean water.

Which is precisely the thing that's on the other hand.

Ultimately, the only thing that stops Cardan from channelling his disbelief into an argument is the tense, bitten-down way Liem looks. Somehow, he doesn't think that bickering will provide a sufficient distraction to this kind of anxiety, and they have a long way to go in less than companionable silence. ]

You should have told me, [ is all he says, in the end, and tells himself that it's silly to feel anything other than annoyance about this.

He busies himself with raising the ragwort horses, having collected some stalks of the plant before arriving at the ocean's edge. Now, he blows on each one, murmurs the incantation, and throws them onto the ground. Out of the sand rise three yellow ponies with eerily verdant green eyes and manes that resemble the lacy leaves of ragwort; unlike the beautiful faerie horses back at the estate, these steeds are gaunt and sickly-looking, though they behave otherwise as real horses might.

Then the only thing left is to strap their luggage to the pack horse, mount the steeds, and ride. Cardan eschews saddle and reins; it's not like a horse made from plant will disobey him. They climb quickly into the sky at his command, propelled into the air by no visible force. He takes a moment to take in the familiar seascape -- the waves lapping against the rapidly disappearing shore, the blackness of the water beneath them, the familiar saline smell on the wind. It's surprisingly nostalgic; he had not thought he would miss it.

The next several hours are spent trying to entertain his grey-faced spouse. If Liem's lack of enthusiasm cows Cardan, he does not show so. And, after all, is there any better time to enrich his husband's knowledge of the kingdom they are overlooking? He details the Undersea queen's many glorious conquests and the strange beauty of the palace under the ocean. He retells tales of mermaids who'd fallen for sailors, usually to one or the other's demise. The fact it helps distract him from how close to frozen his toes are is not unwelcome.

He's halfway through an epic poem about the vanquishing of some sea serpent when the ever-shifting isles of Elfhame come into view. Rather: there is an odd shimmering in the distance -- something that looks like a mirage, or maybe like fog, or maybe nothing at all. As they get closer, the picture will clear, as if someone had wiped clean a smeared window pane: a large island shaped like a half-moon, with a smaller one completing the circle on the other side, and a much smaller isle in their midst.

Insmire, Insweal, and Insmoor. Cardan names them, pointing at each.

They will hit Insmire's rocky, volcanic shore within ten minutes. The ragwort steeds touch down lightly, their hooves nimble on shimmering black sand. Cardan raises his face to the sky, sensing a million things on the breeze -- the aromatic smoke of bonfires, sweet tree sap and brine, discordant music and distant screams. He had not exaggerated when he described Faerie as more: even in the moonlight, every colour is brighter, every shadow deeper, every scent overwhelmingly heady. It makes Ironside feel like a distant, anemic dream.

He will take a deep breath and then turn to his husband, his expression more shuttered than it was before. ]

Welcome to the Isle of Might.

Edited (cAPITALIZATION) 2023-04-28 23:56 (UTC)

[Liem is stubbornly unflinching in the face of Cardan's disbelief, betraying neither regret for his silence nor fear for the prospect of being swallowed by the black water stretching endlessly into the horizon. He is beyond nervousness at this point, draped in the forbidding, impassive mantle he wears when he has already dedicated himself to doing something he knows he's going to hate.

There is no realistic way that he can fulfill his promise to Cardan without ever visiting Elfhame itself, even if doing so might be somewhat more dangerous for him than his husband had anticipated — so he sees no point in agonizing over it. His incompatibility with the sea will not matter if he never has to contact the water, in any case.

His pride does not, however, prevent him from requiring his horse to be saddled before he mounts it. The animals that Cardan conjures are strange, poor-looking specimens, and he does not relish the prospect of perching upon his pony's gaunt back for the next several hours with nothing but its weedy-looking mane to hold onto. And besides, he is not of the fair folk; his husband may feel at ease riding forest creatures with neither bit nor bridle, but to Liem, the trappings of civilization are most natural.

So he mounts his saddled plant-pony, and for hours thereafter he listens to Cardan's voice as they let the steeds carry them across the sea. Even were he less tightly wound, he would be supremely interested in the sagas and tales his husband shares with him about the unseen kingdom stretching below the waves. Given his desperation to avoid contemplating the drop straight down into oblivion, Cardan's voice may as well be heavy with glamour for how caught he is in its cadence. He doesn't even register the shimmering smear of the islands on the horizon until they come suddenly into focus, and Cardan abandons his epic about the sea serpent to name each one in turn.

The sight fills Liem with bone-deep relief, even before they finally reach land. By the time the unshod hooves of their temporary steeds touch down on Insmire's rocky shore, he feels ready to vibrate out of his skin.

But he doesn't. He only gazes around the unfamiliar beach, noting the unseasonal warmth in the calm, richly scented air, and the strange, vivid tapestry of sounds and shapes and colours surrounding them. It reminds him of his husband's taste, in a way; the isle has the same intense, too-vibrant quality about it, for all that it lacks the stinging winds and chill that he might have expected in the dark of winter.

The strange, living quality in the air, punctuated as it is with distant screams and music, rouses the part of him that chafes at the predictability and polish of his tidy life. It makes him ache to sink his teeth into something. It makes him want to hunt.]

It is… alluring, [he decides.] The air tastes different.

[ Not so far from them, in the wash of waves, a mermaid's tail glitters in the black water. Closer still, tiny iridescent crabs clamber up a white rock in pursuit of some industry known only to themselves.

Cardan glances back at Liem, and his smile has too many teeth. ]

Do not be too lured, [ he will warn, softly, ] lest you find yourself lost.

[ Then he glances up at the sky again, this time to scan for the hour. The stars overhead have transformed: they are both numerous and unrecognizable, as if they had set down on an entirely different planet, with constellations no Ironside astronomer has yet to catalogue.

The slant of the moonlight tells him they have but a few hours left and at least one stop yet to make. ]

Come. We will see to Hollow Hall first.

[ He urges the pony towards the tree line without further ado, exchanging sand for fragrant pine needles. They had landed at the southernmost point of Insmire, and Balekin's gothic estate is to the northeast. An owl perches on one of the branches above them. It turns when they approach; instead of an owl's beak, it has the face of something wizened and vaguely humanoid. Cardan pays it no mind.

Hollow Hall is large and somewhat grotesque, with a crooked tower and a mass of ivy and moss covering its masonry. Cardan dismounts, motioning for Liem to do the same. Twin lights flank the entrance door -- a vast wooden thing with an elaborately carved, sinister face taking up its entire width. The lights house what may seem like overlarge glowbugs, but are, in fact, tiny faeries -- sprites flying about in desperate circles as they try to escape their glass prisons.

The door's eyes open before Cardan can reach for the knocker. It looks surprised to see them for a moment before its enormous mouth stretches into a menacing grin.

My prince, it says, in a warm and resonant voice. ]

My door, [ Cardan will reply, with no small degree of affection. His hand slides to the small of Liem's back, as if presenting him to an acquaintance. ] Invite my husband in, if you will. We would see Balekin.

[ The door eyes Liem with what may have been either curiosity or hunger, before turning its intimidating gaze back to Cardan.

Your brother is out, my prince.

Cardan exhales; the hand on Liem's back slips away, and though he looked deliberately un-tense before, the hold of his jaw relaxes a fraction. ]

Well, [ he muses, ] this will make it easier to borrow some of his horses.

[There is a feeling that Liem gets when he visits the forest, that the surrounds are a little beyond his ability to predict or control, and anything at all might happen there. The feeling is stronger here; he glimpses the shimmer of an elegant finned tail disappearing into the surf, hears and smells a hundred different things he can't identify, and has to be thankful for Cardan's presence to stop him from plunging into the woods to satisfy his curiosity, probably to never be seen again.]

Worry not, husband, [he assures him, regarding him steadily.] I won't stray.

[And he doesn't; though his gaze does rake over the woods as they delve into the trees, pausing with a slight frown over the strange-looking bird. As they ride, he is kept alert in a far different way than he'd been over the ocean, when his nerves had strung him into tense, almost fidgety silence. Now, alertness lives in the restless movements of his fingers, the tilt of his head and the curious sweep of his eyes through unfamiliar trees. This territory is well and truly strange, and he is not yet sure how to feel about being here. But he can sense the presence of wolves deeper within the wood, which gives him some measure of comfort.

Soon enough, the forbidding shape of Hollow Hall looms before them. Liem regards its crooked and overgrown appearance for a moment before dismounting from his pony so he can accompany his husband to the front entrance.

The front entrance, which bears an enormous face. And, apparently, talks, addressing Cardan with the warmth of old familiarity. Masking his astonishment, Liem regards the door attentively, bearing its regard with the stoicism of someone who in his short life has been presented to people far more intimidating than a large, talking piece of architecture. He gives it a cursory nod.]

What a shame that we missed him, [he observes neutrally.] I suppose we shall have to impose upon his hospitality on another night.

[The night has been a long one already; he does not at all lament that his introduction to Balekin should have to wait.]

[ Cardan gives Liem a strange little look, as if he'd said something odd. ]

It's so startling to hear you lie. I always underestimate it.

[ He doesn't care to hide his feelings about Balekin from the door; it knows all there is to know, anyway. ]

...but you're right that we'll have to return.

[ The piece of architecture winks at Liem as Cardan stalks away; the ragwort horses follow him to the stables, as obedient as if they had been on a lead. There, they will encounter a variety of mounts: giant toads and elk with decorated antlers are kept alongside the slim silver-shod horses Liem is familiar with. There are humans, too, mucking out the stables. They look not unlike the ragwort horses: gaunt and yellow-skinned, their eyes oddly empty.

The goblin stablehand Cardan accosts seems reluctant to provide them with a carriage, which is a problem the newly returned prince of Faerie solves by going from tiredly irritated to icily menacing with nary a beat in-between. The carriage is sorted rather quickly after that. ]

I would have liked to show you the land more intimately, [ he'll tell Liem, once they're inside of it, ] but I think we'd best save that for when we're both rested.

[ He is in the process of peeling off his winter clothes, his legs jumbling against Liem's as he wiggles out of his coat. His collar is damp with sweat; Cardan wrinkles his nose at it, shifting his shoulders. Mostly, it makes him smell more strongly of cedar.

His glance at Liem is evaluating. ] How are you faring?

[Liem aims a lifted brow Cardan's way when his attempt at tact is met with undisguised surprise. Odd, he thinks, that even the veneer of courtesy is deemed unnecessary in front of Balekin's living, talking front entrance. Liem is quite free with what he says inside his own home, but then his house doesn't have a mouth to repeat any of it. He wonders at that — that it would be Balekin's house, but Cardan's door.

He lets out a pensive hum as he regards his husband.]

Better that than you being startled to hear me tell the truth.

[Cardan has had fair opportunity by now to become used to the kind of deceit that vampire courts are rife with. Liem opts to take it as a compliment that his husband still finds lies strange coming from his lips, even though he could not have survived the world of politics without them.

As Cardan stalks off in the direction of the stables, Liem spares one last look for the strange, carven door.]

Until later, then, [he says, and follows after his husband.

Balekin's stables are both strange and a little familiar. The elk and toads are a bizarre sight in the stalls, but the faerie horses are almost comforting after their trip on the sallow ragwort steeds. Less comforting, but ultimately no less routine, is the sight of blank-eyed humans going about their chores with the empty look of people whose wills are no longer their own. It recalls him to the slightly unfamiliar way that Cardan had looked at the staff in his home after they were first married, like it was strange that Liem would ever speak with them as people.

Commonplace as the sight of dominated servants are in many houses, however, he is still pleased to be away from the stables and heading finally towards the palace. Even in the homes of the more callous vampires, it was unusual for the staff to look as if they were wasting away — even if just for the sake of keeping them appetizing. He wonders how common this kind of sight is in Elfhame.]

I am well, [he assures Cardan as he watches him peel himself out of his coat. Liem should do the same, he supposes, though he's in no particular hurry to do so. If anything, his own layers only serve to insulate him from the balmy temperatures outside.]

Though I do not know if I could rest, even given the opportunity. There is too much strangeness about. I cannot imagine sleeping.

[Cardan had been right when he'd said that Faerie was more. Even the shelter of their carriage cannot truly disguise the dream-like richness that lives in the colours and shapes, scents and sounds around them. He imagines that if he took off his gloves and touched the seats and walls of their transport, that too might seem just a little too real.]

You did not tell me that the door of Balekin's manor speaks. It seems fond of you.

I suppose it is. [ Something around his eyes softens a little. The door may only be that -- a door -- but it has shown him more kindness than most ambulatory creatures, and at no real benefit to itself. ] It is by far the most agreeable thing in that house.

[ He has divested himself of his hat; he doesn't bother smoothing over his tousled curls before plopping down a delicate golden circlet to rest on his brow. The overall impression is that of someone who had just tumbled out of bed, and not necessarily his own.

His eyes don't leave Liem. They have left the scattered pines around Balekin's estate behind; instead, the carriage is surrounded by fields full of wildflowers, where glowing sprites perform complicated dances in the air. A couple of them land and perch against the carriage's lacquered frame, tiny hands and doll-like faces pressed against the glass to stare at its inhabitants. ]

Is it truly so strange? [ He's curious about it; he'd never really talked to an outsider about their impressions of Faerie. It's vastly different from Ironside, certainly, but having grown up mired in the thick of it, it's difficult to perceive it as anything but the way the world should be.

His smile is a little crooked. ] Surely my excesses should have prepared you for this.

[Liem knows so little about Cardan's life prior to their marriage — so little about the places he'd spent time in and the people he'd known. This truth strikes him starkly as he realizes that the most positive thing about his spouse's life in Hollow Hall had been a talking door that he'd never seen fit to mention even once. He wonders how much else about Faerie, and his time living in it, that Cardan has neglected to mention.

He does eventually go about divesting himself of his gloves and coat — methodically, his gaze still steady on his husband. Stripping free of his coat changes little in terms of his own comfort, but it makes his silhouette more distinct and the slim sword and main-gauche he's wearing more visible. Considering that he has no coronet of his own to wear during their arrival, this will have to do.

The sight of Cardan's tousled curls reminds him that his own hair is likely quite wind-blown by now, but there's little he can do about that. He simply rakes a cursory hand through it as he glances aside at the tiny sprites peering in at them, and wonders how being married to even the most whimsical of grooms could possibly have prepared him for this.]

You are only one man.

[Faerie prince or not, even Cardan has had to adapt to the realities of living in Iago's home, in his magic-poor realm. He has made himself a fixture of Liem's life, but for all his charm and his mystery and his magic, even he could not be the entirety of it.]

I don't know what it is about this land; maybe it is magic. But it smells of it — as you do, as does your blood. There is too much of it.

[ Cardan's eyebrows rise; he can't help but be a little insulted by the proposition that he is only a man, and apparently one who isn't very magical aside from his smell. Granted, he hasn't done much magic in front of Liem -- he hasn't done much magic in Ironside, period -- and he's no sorcerer of particular might. Still, the idea that Liem could think him mundane, even in comparison to the whole of Faerie, sits ill. He has always known himself to be magic; it is the basis of his conceit of being better than the mortals who toil at Balekin's estate.

His mouth tightens. ]

No, [ he says, and there is something a little sharp and tense in it, ] it is Ironside that is too sparse. It has too much metal and too little life. This is the world as it was meant to be.

[ He looks out the window. In the distance, the surface of a lake glimmers in the moonlight. ] As it was, before humans edged us out of it.

[ He has no memory of this, of course, being far too young -- younger even than a single human lifetime, let alone scores of them. It's just something to blame for his sudden foul mood, which certainly has nothing to do with the prospect of returning to the palace, of kneeling before his father's throne, of the thorny prospect of persuading Balekin to give him money.

Of encountering Dain, if either of them is particularly unlucky. ]

[When Cardan's expression tightens, gains that sour little edge, Liem realizes he may have spoken unwisely. To his husband, this land is not strange; it is his home, which he presumably missed for the months he spent in Iago's little corner of Ironside. Even if he is not eager to encounter his kin again, he must hold love for the place where he'd spent most of his life until now, and he must have found Ironside lacking in comparison.]

It was not meant to be a value judgement. [Liem sets his folded coat neatly on the seat next to him, and watches his husband direct his gaze out the carriage's window.] This land is too strange to me for me to be at ease here — nothing more.

[It is like encountering the briny tang of the sea for the first time, when one has only ever lived with the scents of the forest. He is sure he will become accustomed to it in time — but the difference in the atmosphere puts him on edge. As he had said, it is alluring — but to him, the intensity of the surrounds also hints at unseen danger. And he is too alien to tell from whence it will come.]

But for almost as long as the Talbott lands have been claimed by my family, there has been no one and nothing in them with more magic than the vampires who stalked there. It is… unnerving for that not to be the case, here. Not least of all because I am of no particular power to begin with, compared to those more elder.

As am I, apparently, [ retorts Cardan, not particularly appeased. It's true, but he's testy about it, even though Liem is not the one who truly deserves his ire. But it is ever a drawback of his bad temper that he cannot stop fighting with people he likes.

Maybe it's because the moment he knows someone will tolerate his bad moods, he cannot help but take advantage of them.

He has exchanged his warm winter coat for an expensively heavy -- though not quite so thick -- cape in the dark red of venous blood. This he pins onto his shoulder with the amber brooch Liem had gifted him an eternity and a half ago, on a hill that seemed almost as magical as Faerie. But then-- ]

You are mistaken. [ He has clawed back some of his composure; the sharpness in his voice recedes by a fraction. ] Every forest is magic. I felt it when I walked there just as I feel it here.

[ Outfit change complete, he will place a hand on Liem's knee. He'd stripped his warm gloves along with his coat, and he thinks he can feel Liem's lingering chilliness through the fabric of his trousers, though perhaps it is just that Cardan himself is too warm. ]

If this is overwhelming, the palace will be more so.

[ He has no real recourse for that. They must go, and they must kiss Eldred's ring, and they must stay at least long enough to show face. If Liem is already unsettled, he will have to shake the feeling quickly. ]

[Liem's eyes cannot help but follow the motion of Cardan's hands as he speaks, taking in the appropriately blood-hued cape, the familiar brooch he pins to it. Even tousled and travel-weary, his husband strikes an arresting, princely figure. He would wonder if this is a taste of the sort of splendour awaiting them at the palace, but even during their wedding — which had been attended by both vampire and faerie courtiers in all manner of glittering finery, including Cardan's elder sister — he cannot recall any who had come close to outdoing his husband in any regard.

Perhaps, even by faerie standards, Liem just managed to wed an unusually beautiful man.

The warm hand on his knee rouses him from his contemplation. He manages to shake some of the intensity from his expression, shelving his wariness for the time being.]

When did I say that, husband? You know I enjoy a challenge.

[It is hardly Cardan's fault, or Faerie's, that ease does not come naturally to Liem. He will just have to channel his restlessness productively, as he does every night — especially those nights that necessitate his attendance at major social events. He's not inclined to be cowed just because he now finds himself in a foreign court.

In any case, he cannot expect his husband to do everything relating to Faerie all by himself.]

I said I would accompany you on your trip, and so I am. Everything else is details.

[ Details are the difference between life and death or worse in Faerie, but Cardan doesn't feel like lecturing on this topic. It's not like Liem hasn't been appraised of it, anyway. He withdraws his hand from Liem, though the brush of his thigh against his husband's stays, augmented by the carriage's occasional shaking as they encounter bumps in the road. Very little of Elfhame's land is paved.

They circle the lake and soon after plunge into the Milkwood -- named for its eerie bleached-white trees. Here, there is more noise; as Cardan had promised, both the screams and the laughter are denser, and they come from odd angles -- sometimes too close, discordant on the breeze. Distant bonfires flicker through the trees. Glowing eyes blink at the carriage, there and gone in the next breath; there are myriad things here, alive and dead and dying, engaged in their secretive dances.

Cardan will be a little tense until they come out the other side, at which point he makes a visible effort to relax the hold of his shoulders and unclench his jaw. ]

We are nearly there, [ he tells Liem-- and then, as if in afterthought, reaches out to straighten his husband's collar, smooth his lapels. It's of no particular importance in Faerie, where folk hardly value put-togetherness as much as they do intrigue, but he knows, too, that Liem would probably prefer to be neat about his arrival. ]

[Despite what Cardan said about his forest, about all forests, Liem continues to be struck by just how alive their surroundings are as their carriage plunges into the bone-white trees. Strange sounds and flickers of movement catch his attention through the carriage's windows, drawing his eyes this way and that, though he keeps himself otherwise still in his seat. Eventually, he realizes what the experience reminds him of; it is like visiting town, but without the orderly lines and the stink of civilization. The pulse of life filtering through the trees, filling the nighttime woods with its beat, is almost the same.

Though of course, Liem has never had cause to feel on edge in a town full of humans.

The tension living in his husband's shoulders as they travel does not particularly ease Liem's nerves, but he is still glad of his familiar presence, which ironically is the only thing he now has to remind him of home. When Cardan reaches out and fusses a little with his collar, a small smile curves his lips.]

Are you intending to show me off, Cardan? [He lifts his hands so he can take his husband's — lightly, on account of the chill still clinging to him. What is he if not a fun new toy for Elfhame's youngest prince to dangle in front of the folk's noses? As far as Eldred's court is concerned, he need not be anything else.] Perhaps inspire some jealousy at your good fortune?

[ The chilled hands on his feel nice; there is something steadying in Liem's touch. Perhaps he had gotten too used to it over the months in Liem's care -- too dependent on his husband's steadfast reliability and calm, deliberate touch. It is strange, to now be the one helming the ship, so to speak. Before he can think better of it, he tilts his face to press his hot cheek to the curl of Liem's cool, dry fingers.

There is not a hint of irony in his serious gaze. ]

Of course. Why would I want anything less?

I want every courtier in the palace incandescently jealous of us both. I wish for them to be utterly besotted with you, as they will be.

[ The smile that does twitch into place on his face is a little secretive. ]

Besides, it's never better to be overlooked, least of all in a Faerie court.

[Liem finds himself unsurprised by the unhesitating agreement that Cardan offers in answer to his question. Has he not made the extent of his covetousness clear already? If they are to have all the eyes in the palace court on them — and they surely will, as Elfhame's errant young prince and his mysterious new groom — of course Cardan would wish for the onlooking courtiers to be green with envy.

What surprises him is his husband's certainty that the palace folk will all be besotted with him.]

Will they?

[His voice carries a hint of gentle skepticism for this assertion, although he does not, cannot cast doubt on his husband's belief. His fingers slide down Cardan's cheek until he can run his thumb in a gentle caress over that secretive little smile. This expression he much prefers to some of the tighter, sharper ones his husband has worn since they landed.

He ponders, soberly:]

Curiosity and puzzlement I had been expecting; for infatuation, I may have to put in a bit more effort.

[ The idea of Liem putting in effort to court the palace gentry is oddly distressing, even though, in some ways, that is exactly what they've come here to do. Cardan dismisses the thought. ]

You are a secret, [ he will tell Liem, shutting his eyes for a moment. The Palace of Elfhame looms in his advance towards them, not unlike Iago's manor in the way that its pressures will come down on them both. He breathes out against the caress of Liem's thumb, then turns his face to brush his mouth over the dip between his thumb and index finger. ] A thing none of them have ever seen before. And they so want for novelty at my father's court.

[ He looks at Liem's face again, catalogues the now-familiar features -- the serious shape of his mouth, his cheekbones, the aquiline nose, those strange and striking eyes. ]

Disdain them; it will make them all the more desperate for your regard.

And besides, it is callous to make me watch you beguile someone else.

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