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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In Ironside, when he and Cardan had visited that tavern, Cardan had used magic to prevent the people within from looking at Liem’s eyes. He feels a little like that; when he envisions himself, his mind’s eye slides away from the details of his face.
He almost doesn’t feel like he has one, though of course he knows that he does. Plenty of people before Cardan have confirmed that the person in those paintings is indeed him. But those likenesses might as well be paper masks that stapled over the place where an actual face would go. They aren’t real, and sometimes he feels like neither is he.
Still, he smiles a little as he looks up at his husband.]
I would read it. Though I suspect I may be the only one who would care to.
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He eyes the face under discussion now: Liem's sharp, elegant angles, the steep cliffs of his cheekbones and his striking eyes, pale against the black pool of his sclera. No, he thinks that if he made an almanac of the subtle expressions ruling that serious, composed face, it would see no shortage of demand. ]
I do not know if you're insulting yourself or me, but regardless, I am inclined to take offence.
[ The slight curl at the corner of his mouth suggests he's joking, but then again, it is not as if he can lie -- only exaggerate.
His hands drop down to Liem's shoulders again, straightening his collar one last time. Cardan will reach for his jacket next, proferring it for his husband to slide into, dutiful as the world's most louche butler. ]
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Even Cardan's interest strikes him as a little odd, but fortunately for him and his lack of drawing expertise, he does not need portraits of Liem to see his face all the time, in all its nebulous variety of iterations. For the sake of his hair, Liem resists the urge to lean his head into the caress of Cardan's fingertips, but his eyes warm beneath his husband's strangely intent gaze.]
Then I won't belabour the point.
[The point that he is still correct about — but it doesn't matter. He slides his arms into the coat that Cardan holds out for him, taking a few moments to fuss with the sleeves as he always must, even if someone else has fussed with them already.]
In any event, I know well enough for my own purposes how I look.
[Turning again to face his spouse, he looks up at him with just a hint of playfulness, his posture ever-so-slightly inviting his wandering regard.]
And if curiosity strikes me, I can ask you.
[His dear husband, who has studied him so thoroughly and who cannot speak anything but truth.]
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And do you assume I would give up my secrets freely?
[ How the details of Liem's facial features are in any way part of Cardan's secrets, he does not elaborate upon. If anything, surely Liem is long used to Cardan's preposterous demands -- and in truth, describing someone who had never seen themselves is a little daunting even for him. It is only fair that it cost Liem something.
Besides, he likes making deals with Liem, who is ever patient and honest, and often endearingly put-upon. Though even when he isn't -- even when he turns his shrewd faculties to pushing back on Cardan's nonsense, that's fun, too. He so rarely gets to be at the receiving end of his husband's ruthlessness.
He will step back and gesture towards the chair Liem had perched on when Cardan had shaved him earlier. ]
Your boots, husband. Sit, so that I may lace them for you.
[ Liem is capable of this himself, obviously, but Cardan is only being thorough. ]
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Oh? Yours, are they?
[What about all the others who have laid eyes on him, and seen the faces he wears that haven't been captured in those tidy paintings?
… Is what he would say, if he were not, in truth, so jealous with his own expressions. The few people who would have seen him wearing anything but the composed face he presents in public are not likely to be any more forthcoming than his mischievous husband.]
You are a jealous creature.
[And growing more jealous by the day, it sometimes seems. First it was Liem's drinking habits, and then his habits of bathing and grooming and dress, and now even his countenance is Cardan's to claim.
But still Liem takes a seat when he is bid, because he likes Cardan's hands on him, always, and because he cannot help but be charmed by his interest, no matter how covetous it might be.]
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When he looks up, the smile that curls over his face is voluptuous. ]
I want what’s mine to be mine alone. Surely that is only natural?
[ And he has so little of Liem, really. Even when his husband is trapped in the cage of Cardan’s arms, there is always another early evening, another banquet, another stack of problems to solve. He has come to resent them — even more, somehow, since spending time in Elfhame again.
In all of his wildest dreams he would have never thought that five months into his marriage, it would be Iago he’s jealous of. But his father-in-law’s hold on Liem is ever-present, lurking like a fly in Cardan’s honey. Even now, he imagines, Liem must feel anxious to go back, to start on the work he has missed in his weeks abroad.
Cardan does not want to think about their return. So he focuses on Liem’s laces instead, and on the impending moonrise, and on the night he intends them to have. It easier, to live in the now; sometimes he wonders how Liem manages the opposite. ]
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Even if it is, though, Liem is happy to grant it to him. Whom else would he care to share himself with, other than his husband? Whom else would he care to grant the bits and pieces that don't quite fit in the other parts of his life, words and looks and gestures that no one else would care to receive anyway? It is better if he gives them to someone who will keep them close, hoard them like a dragon's treasures, even if only so that no one else can have them.]
If that is so, perhaps I will have to wager with you for more of your secrets.
[So that he can find out what he looks like, of course. And also so that he can indulge his trickery-loving spouse with more games.
Though at present, he is more tempted by the damp curls of his husband's freshly-washed hair, and the elegant slant of his pointed ear as he dips his head to tend to Liem's laces. It is difficult to resist the urge to brush his fingers idly along it, or the urge to stroke his thumb over one glossy temple, and so he doesn't bother, much preferring to indulge in the idle touch while he still can.]
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Worse, he doesn't know if he'd mind it even if Liem did. ]
You should wager with me more often, [ he agrees, smugly, turning to Liem's second boot. He will tilt his face up to stare at him, though, the glint in his eyes a little predatory. ] After all, is it ever not enjoyable?
[ That's not really the attitude one ought to take in a faerie wager -- but it's not like Cardan had ever taken more than Liem was willing to give. And he thinks his husband enjoys the unpredictability of Cardan's whims rather more than his average victim.
Which is good, because Cardan has found he relishes few things as much as Liem indulging him. ]
Shall we have one tonight?
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Liem is more than willing to believe he's right.]
No— it has never failed to be so.
[He likes his husband's wagers. He likes his tricks and his mischief, and he likes letting Cardan lure him into his traps. He likes trying to puzzle out his games and predict his next move. And he always, always likes the forfeits they end up playing for — because even when Cardan bullies him and leads him around by the nose, he cannot truly lose when he still gets to have his husband wrapped around him at the end of the night.
The gentle smile he aims down at his spouse ill suits the wariness that such an offer should rightly inspire in this place.]
What wager, husband?
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We've attended our share of dull revels, have we not? Here and in your realm alike.
[ Even the most dull of Faerie parties are, of course, wild by mortal standards. But neither of them is mortal.
Cardan's grin is as bright as it is roguish. ]
Let us play a game tonight. I will leave the choice of contest to you, though you must play fair.
[ What does that even mean? Cardan thinks he would be delighted to find out what it means to Liem. ]
The winner decides the forfeit. There are no conditions, save for one: it must play out at a party.
[ That's a more complex and more open-ended game than he'd proposed before, and one drawn out over an extended period -- but escalation is the spice of life, surely, and it isn't as if Cardan isn't risking much in the process. The terms give his husband much leeway to be ruthless, if he so wanted.
The fact that he feels a little thrill at the thought probably speaks ill of his general sanity, but so be it. Tonight, Cardan has chosen to be in a good mood; tonight, in his own home, under his own stars, he decides to trust in his own luck. ]
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Looking up at him, Liem considers the radiant, mischievous grin with a raised brow.]
When have I not played fair?
[If there is any rampant cheater between the two of them, surely it is Cardan. And besides, what need would he have to not play fair in a contest where he gets to decide the winning condition?
The prospect does give him pause, though. There are only so many kinds of contest they could reasonably indulge in while at a revel full of people who are meant to believe they don't care for one another. His eyes search Cardan's as he ponders this problem.
The matter of the forfeit, he gives only a passing thought. He cannot imagine that Cardan would demand anything from him that he would regret, at least not because of an idle game. For all that his husband likes to act the villain, the trials he inflicts on Liem are ever tempered with playfulness.]
Hm…
[Any contest he chooses… One that they can play over the course of the night… What shall he say?]
Then, husband, why don't we play a counting game?
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Then again, Liem is meant to be playing to his strengths. Especially since, as he so diligently noted, he is not the one prone to cheating and trickery. But if Liem preferred to deal with clean sportsmanship and even chances at winning, he would probably not be engaging in frivolous wagers with a faerie prince in the first place.
Funny, how this game would be so dangerous with anyone else.
Well, so be it. Cardan brushes affectionate fingertips over Liem's jaw before straightening again. ]
As you wish.
[ He will offer a gallant hand to help Liem up -- and promptly take the chance to pull him in, against his own body, his arm wrapping possessively around his husband's trim waist. ]
And what manner of counting shall we engage in, husband?
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Yes, he's chosen a counting game: something simple enough that playing will not distract them unduly from other matters, but open-ended enough to allow some room for creativity. After all, he does not wish their game to be as dull as the parties Cardan just maligned.
The slight height advantage he enjoys once he stands before his un-shod husband does little to close the difference between them, but he nonetheless takes advantage of it to lean in and press a kiss to the corner of Cardan's mouth.]
A contest to find the most populous matched set — so, it is also a seeking game.
[Still, it's straightforward, right?]
To play, we take turns finding sets of things, starting at two and iterating up by one each time. The winner will be the one who has found a matched set with the most constituent parts before we return to our rooms.
There are three rules:
A set is not considered found until one of us has shown it to the other.
No skipping ahead. If you find two of something, you must wait until I have found three before you can take your turn and find four, and so on.
Once someone has included a certain type of thing in one set, it cannot be used in any other. So for example, you might seek a constellation with a certain number of stars, but only once.
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[ He is a little concerned when Liem starts on populous matched set -- if only because he's not sure he expects what follows to be fun -- but as it turns out, his worry is unwarranted. It's not a particularly complicated game, for all the rules Liem carefully lays out, and it's not like Cardan has to win it; for all his pride, he has found he is far less competitive than the ambitious, discipline-minded man he married.
...although Liem kissing him remains distracting. Cardan tilts his face, feeling the gentle brush of his husband's cool breath as he speaks. Even dressed down in comfortable attire, Liem looks as sharp and elegant as ever. Not for the first time, it occurs to Cardan just how easily he could pass for one of the Folk prowling Elfhame's halls -- if not, perhaps, for his intolerance of strong wine. ]
Very well.
[ He pulls away, a little reluctantly. He will step around Liem to plop himself into the chair, reaching for his own boots. ]
And which of us starts?
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These things are more enjoyable to dwell on than the neutral, unreadable reaction his spouse has for his impromptu game, which he is still not sure will be a particularly entertaining diversion. Still, Cardan had left the contest in his hands; if he wished to discover what Liem might do with this freedom, he has certainly found out.
But when Cardan sits to pull on his own boots, Liem turns to keep his eyes fixed on him, his expression warm with good humour.]
Oh?
[After a brief moment of consideration, Liem slides one hand behind his back.]
How many fingers am I holding out? If you can guess, the first turn is yours.
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Of course, he could guess with no plan, but the point of riddles is to find meaning in something that appears to have none. He supposes the first turn conveys an advantage, as well -- but really, he just wants Liem to think that he's clever. ]
You have proposed a game for two, [ he will posit, after a moment, ] and so that shall be my answer. Two fingers, Liem.
[ Having finished with his boots, he will rise to retrieve his jacket. ]
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How like him, to seek meaning in what any vampire would simply view as an arbitrary — and rather stacked — challenge. In a way, this too is instructive to a man little versed in Faerie’s ways.]
Alas.
[Drawing his hand out from behind his back, Liem waggles one lonely index finger at his husband.]
The first round will be mine then. I shall take the even numbers, and you can take the odd.
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As ever, my husband is merciless.
[ Not that Cardan has much mercy for Liem when it comes to winning games, or anything else, for that matter -- but that's beside the point. This is about Liem's cruelties, not Cardan's. Anyway, it doesn't matter; odd numbers suit Cardan better anyway.
The room holds a bouquet of blushing peonies set in a dainty little vase on a decorative table. Cardan plucks one to accessorize with, affixing it to his breast with a cunning golden pin. His circlet this night is similarly whimsical, with delicate golden branches and leaves that weave through his hair.
There is something else, too, beside the vase: a silken little box, which Cardan will pick up. ]
Before you start, I have something for you.
[ He makes it sound casual, like he's handing Liem a stack of papers to sign.
What's inside the box, actually, is much less mundane: it is a crown woven from flowers. Though winter has not extended its icy fingers to the isles, the flowers are largely seasonal: bright winterberries mix with somber grey hellebores and the vibrant wintery green of mistletoe. The purple roses are, admittedly, a self-indulgent addition, but surely Cardan can be forgiven for breaking his self-imposed theme. ]
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He is distracted from his thoughts, however, when his husband lifts the silken box sitting nearby and casually hands it to him, like it was something of Liem’s he was about to forget to take with him when leaving the house. He takes it, bemused, and looks inside to regard the little wreath of (mostly) winter greenery with surprise.
Oh— Cardan got this for him? Or… made it? Does he know how to weave such things himself? Flower crowns are a Faerie enough subject matter that Liem truly doesn’t know which would be more plausible. He spends a long moment gazing at it, tilting the box this way and that, as a warm little smile dawns over his face.
It is a thoughtful and touchingly spousal gift. Though, with his mind still on the revel they are supposedly meant to be attending, he still cannot guess at why Cardan would suddenly give him such a thing. Liem finally raises his eyes from the wreath, which he has not made any move to lift from its box, to again find his husband’s face.]
This is lovely — but what is the occasion?
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Perhaps it's just a thing that's gauche to bring up until someone else does, but Cardan doubts it; it is much more like his husband to forget about a day meant to celebrate himself above all others.
So he doesn't miss a beat when Liem asks about the occasion, though his own smile is a little secretive. ]
You are going to a wild place, and so I figured you could use a bit of the same.
[ Let his husband think that his secret is about the party. He's not lying -- they are going to a wild place; it just won't be the place he had talked about when he'd described the revel. ]
And I thought it would look handsome on you.
[ Since Liem isn't reaching into the box, Cardan will, curling careful fingers around the wreath. Still, he doesn't immediately plunk it down onto Liem's head. ]
May I?
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But his husband acquired it for him, and he clearly wishes to see him wear it, so Liem has little real choice but to trust him when he says he thinks it would look handsome on him. As the one who spends much of his nights looking at Liem, Cardan must certainly be the most qualified to make such judgments.]
Please do.
[Liem lets the box in his hands sink down as Cardan lifts the crown out, cradling the delicate-looking construction. Whatever secrets Cardan is still keeping about their outing, and whatever whims guide him, Liem is content to entertain his wishes.
Besides, it is romantic, and he is not inclined to scorn romance from his own spouse.]
I would not know how best to wear it, myself.
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Besides, it pleases him to see Liem with a touch of Faerie about him. In his time abroad, Cardan had willingly taken to Ironside fashions, swapping his velvet doublets and breeches for of sharply cut suits and silk cravats. It is only meet for Liem to take on a touch of whimsy now, when he is in Cardan’s homeland, about to be spirited away to an adventure of Cardan’s making. Is it so strange that the flowers in Liem’s hair make Cardan all the more possessive of his husband, who is otherwise irritatingly resistant to any mark Cardan endeavours to leave on his skin?
Surely not. And if he takes the indulgence of stealing another kiss from his spouse, then that is only natural too.
Afterward, Cardan will step back to eye him, his mouth in a satisfied curl. ]
You look like one of us.
[ But then, Liem always has, with his gently pointed ears and otherworldly elegance. The flowers resting in his hair lend him the flavour of an in-between creature, half magical hero and half stern accountant, and what could possibly be more Faerie than that?
Cardan will offer his hand, his fingers unfurling in invitation. ]
Come. We are just in time.
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Covetousness steals over him in the quiet of that moment, urging him to cling to this fragile thing between them as long as he can, with fang and claw if he must. Truly the jealous one between them is him, for him to wish beyond any logic or sense simply to keep this man all for himself. The expense may well be too costly to bear.
But he would much rather subside into his husband's kiss than think about such things.
And he does feel a little like he belongs in a faerie story, when Cardan looks at him like that and offers him his hand. Though he cannot run off into the forest with a faerie prince, never to be seen again, he can pretend that he might just for a little while, as he places his fingers in Cardan's warm ones.]
Let us go catch your twilight, then, husband.
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Still, with Dain having approached Liem directly, the need for distance between them had been more pertinent than ever, and so he had pushed the feeling down, declared it unreasonable, and moved on with the pretense.
But tonight is different. Tonight, Cardan does not care and can convince himself of no reason why he should. He threads his fingers through his husband's and keeps hold of them as he leads them out of the palace. The sun has just passed the horizon; the sky is black and starry, except for orange and pink clouds in the west, vibrant as coals. Their horses have been readied for them: Cardan releases Liem only to mount a handsome dappled steed.
And then they ride.
The revel is being held at Insweal, the Isle of Woe. Ordinarily, this would mean a boat trip. Still, when the tide is low, it is possible to get there on horseback, so long as the horse can navigate the slippery pathway of stones between the two islands -- which the silver-shod Faerie steeds naturally are. Cardan had explained as much to Liem, and so it should be no surprise when he sets off north at a stiff pace. Soon, the Crooked Forest is on them, its trees leaning permanently, as grass stalks in the wind. Unlike the Milkwood, which always appears to make Cardan a little nervous, he is at ease here; he even allows their pace to slow a little, so that they may enjoy the fragrant breezes and nighttime songs. ]
I had hoped I would have time to show you the islands before now, [ he admits, with a half-smile towards Liem. ] But I suppose we were otherwise occupied.
[ If not with other revels, then certainly with each other. And though the beauty of Elfhame is incomparable, he is hard-pressed to regret any of their time in their rooms, with naught but their secrets between them. ]
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But he cannot deny the pleased warmth that nestles in his breast as they make their way up and outside.
("What's this?" he leans in to murmur as they emerge to the sight of the two silver-shod faerie horses waiting for them. "A handsome matched pair of steeds, ready to bear us away?" He sounds a little coy about it, but of course they already passed any number of pairs on their way here, and the night is only just beginning.)
He readily welcomes the brisk pace of their twilight ride. With all the time they have spent in carriages and decorated palace rooms, the feel of the night air whistling about him is refreshingly freeing, especially as they leave the chatter of the other gentry behind them. Soon the only voices they hear are carried on the breeze, and the stooped shapes of the Crooked Forest's trees draw near to swallow them up.]
To think I entertained the notion that we might be less busy away from home. [He lifts one eyebrow as he meets Cardan's half-smile. He could only call some of their days here busy in as much as they have been busily pursuing private indulgence, but he considers the time well-spent even so.] There never seems to be enough time for everything we might wish to pursue.
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