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 would lean down and kiss him, except they're both holding drinks, and besides, they only just got settled as they are. But the caress of warm fingertips over his jaw, over his mouth, recall him back to that evening on the hilltop nonetheless.]
I would think there are many things I could tell you that your stars don't know.
[His regard of his husband is soft, and a little secretive. After all, it is supposedly his night to do as he wishes, and the shameless way in which Cardan covets his secrets only makes him want to dangle them just out of his reach.]
My kind is so foreign to these lands; they probably don't even know what I am.
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Besides, people often reveal more than they intend, even while trying to hide.
Cardan keeps his hand there for a moment, curled over Liem's cheek. His husband is right: for all that he looks so much like the fey who have wined and dined him this month, he is a creature from a different world. The magic that animates him is different from Cardan's in a way he has yet failed to grasp fully. Somehow, despite his lack of reflection or shadow, he seems more real, more solid than any of the folk. ]
Then I am jealous of them, [ he posits about the stars, ] for getting to discover you anew.
[ This line, too, is delivered with nary a hint of self-consciousness. Moreover, his expectant smile suggests he is still waiting for Liem's fact about himself. ]
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In order to occupy his buzzing, empty thoughts, Liem lifts one hand so he can cup Cardan's fingers against his face, turning just a little and nuzzling a kiss into the warmth of his palm. His thumb traces soft, idle trails over Cardan's knuckles and his collection of rings while he recalls himself to the present.]
There is plenty about me that you also do not know.
[His breath tickles Cardan's fingers as he murmurs it. Surely it is far too soon for his husband to be coveting the thrill of discovery as though it has passed beyond his grasp.]
Can you tell me my favourite thing about summer, or who first taught me to climb trees, or how old I was when I learned why other families had servants to open their doors?
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But Liem has issued him a challenge, and Cardan is not so easily distracted. ]
Hm. [ It's true that he doesn't know any of these things, but if Liem is going to tease him with the answer, he might as well attempt to guess. He takes a thoughtful swig of his bottle, biding for time. He hasn't had much experience with Liem in the summer, given that they were still very much at odds in early autumn. But the weather hasn't much influence over the house -- and if anything, winter's longer nights are of benefit to Liem's business dealings.
No, it would have to be something about the woods, he thinks -- which Liem seems fond of, even if they don't spend as much time in them as either of them would probably like. And something seasonal--
He grins with sudden inspiration, propping himself up on his elbow. ]
I would bet that the summer is when your wolves are at their most playful. [ After all, food is abundant, and there would be cubs to play-fight with. He recalls their conversation in the pub, about catching the wolves in the right mood for wrestling. And so. ]
As for the trees: the only person I know who could have taught you such a thing is Lady Paril.
[ He has no answer for the third -- any of his guesses would be just stabs in the dark, and so he doesn't bother. ]
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Though he continues to be disarmingly charming about it, even if that is Liem’s own fault for letting his own husband’s wide array of grins slip past his guard so reliably. He lets Cardan’s hand fall, burying his nose in his wineglass instead to hide the curve of his smile.]
Both quite well-reasoned guesses, [he congratulates him.
That doesn’t make them the right ones, of course, but he always relishes the opportunity to glimpse how Cardan’s mind works, and where certain avenues might take him.]
But not the correct ones. It seems I am indeed as much a mystery to you as to your stars. So — which will it be?
[He leans back on his free hand, innocently insouciant.]
Which thing shall I tell you?
[Cardan had, after all, requested a fact to even the scales.]
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Maybe it's because Liem is right: they have known each other less than a year's length, and have talked about themselves precious little in all that time. Cardan has far less claim to his husband than the people he has known all his life, and to whom he owes far more.
But as ever, that does not stop him from being greedy.
He sets down his bottle -- leaning it against the basket -- and then pushes himself up on his arms more fully, twisting towards him so Cardan can slide a hand along the nape of his neck. ]
I want everything, [ he says, seriously -- because he does, because he is a prince of this land, and because Liem ought to give him those pieces of himself anyway. Because Cardan has no desire to be subordinate to people who know these details about Liem when he doesn't.
And, surely, Liem already knows that he wed an avaricious, intemperate man. ]
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His husband, who pursues him as he leans casually back, not letting up in his attention for even a moment.]
Of course you do.
[Finally he lets himself smile at Cardan, a small, pleased thing beneath bright, rapt eyes. The warm caress of of that possessive, deliberate hand along his neck feels like a victory.
Carefully, so he doesn’t risk tipping it, he reaches aside to set his goblet down on the flat of the rug.]
And what will you give me in return?
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For a long moment, he just looks, letting the quiet stretch between them. Cardan wants to kiss that smiling mouth, wants to claim Liem even as he wants to claim his secrets. The vastness of his possessive desire surprises him. And yet--
What should he give Liem? It is a surprisingly tricky question to answer. It is both wise and unfair of his husband to keep his desires close to his chest. Cardan could offer him many things -- his affection and his closeness, his company, even the little gift that rests, wrapped up, in the saddlebag he'd brought with him. But the truth is that Liem already has these things, whether he knows it or not, and for some reason, Cardan is uninclined to trick him into accepting something unworthy of his trade.
And, for better or for worse, he suspects that Liem is not quite as interested in Cardan's secrets as Cardan is in his own.
Still, he is loath to let his husband set the terms entirely. If he wishes Cardan to present him with an offer, then he will. ]
You are a difficult man to try and please, [ he admits, his own mouth twitching into a deceptively mild smile. ]
But, very well: a hunt. Not with me, but with Rhyia, who is far better with the bow than I, and agreeable company besides.
[ Unlike Dain, and certainly unlike Balekin. It's a good match; for all that he likes having Liem all to himself, it would be a shame for him to be cooped up at revels or in their room for the entirety of their stay. Besides, he thinks Rhyia -- who likes the woods and cares not for court theatrics -- would like his earnest, honourable husband, and the thought is oddly pleasing in and of itself. ]
You'd have a break from dull politicking, and a chance to see some of Elfhame's rarer sights. There are ancient things in these woods, and I am rather certain she knows where most of them live.
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If he had expected anything, it had been that their deal would remain between the two of them. Cardan seems so often to jealously guard the time he manages to spend with just Liem. He had not anticipated an excursion with his royal sister, and cannot help but suspect him of some mischief when he offers it.
Even though the idea does intrigue him — perhaps even a little because it does. Though he chose to remain here rather than spend their night wandering the islands, Liem remains curious of the many, many places he has not yet visited on their trip. He does not really know Princess Rhyia, but the promise of a Faerie hunt is almost suspiciously tempting.]
Am I so difficult?
[He wonders aloud, perhaps a little ruefully. He is very pleased now, in Cardan's little hideaway, playing games with his husband. Perhaps he has failed to make this sufficiently obvious.]
Very well.
[His arm slides around his bewitching, bewildering husband, pulling him closer so he can seal their bargain with a kiss. He murmurs in agreement, to his husband to whom he can already refuse nothing:]
Then tonight, you may have everything.
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It's what he had asked for -- it's what he had said he wanted. And though it could be argued that Cardan had only been talking about the answers to Liem's questions, that's not what he meant, and that's not what he hears when Liem says you may have everything. It makes his heart flutter with a yearning he can never admit to. No -- he must keep telling himself that everything couldn't possibly be what Liem expects to give him. It's just that Cardan forever wants and wants and wants--
He closes his eyes and breathes out, thankful that his tail is hidden beneath his clothes -- though he's sure his heartbeat betrays him anyway.
When he looks at his husband again, he can almost pretend he isn't full of pathetic longing.
He brings his other hand up to Liem's face -- that lovely, sharp, serious face. After a moment, he manages a crooked, slightly rueful smile. ]
I have so many wants, Liem.
[ But that's neither here nor there, obviously. They have celebrating to do. ]
Tell me the answers to your questions, then.
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It terrifies him. Because he does not know what has made Cardan want to be by his side, and he does not know what it is that will make him wish to leave.
For now he can only keep his arm tucked close about him, and return that heartbreakingly alluring smile with a pleased little smile of his own. It is his birth anniversary, after all.]
My favourite thing about summer is the storms that always roll through at that time of year. Cruel, tempestuous things that make the earth steam and the sky roar.
[It’s always so tempting to go out in them, to let the warm summer rain soak him through — even if it would be foolish, and maybe even put him at risk of being stranded somewhere, hemmed in by temporary streams of rainwater flooding down forest slopes. They are so at odds with the monotony of his nightly existence; he cannot resist them.
He wonders if Cardan is even familiar with such storms as those. Since they have arrived, the nights he’s observed in Elfhame have been beautiful and calm, the occasional placid rain lacking the wind and bite he is familiar with.]
And the one to teach me to climb trees was actually Petra, when I was much younger. Long before she left.
[He is speaking, of course, of his elder sister.]
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It would explain some things about why he keeps letting Cardan sow chaos all over his neat, tidy life.
But the bigger surprise comes with the second answer. He knows her name -- but he has heard it mentioned so infrequently that it takes him a moment to realize who Liem is talking about. It reminds him again of those portraits, of the somber progression of four to three to one.
He's not quite sure what to say to that revelation. He'd always assumed Liem's sister would be a painful subject to talk about. But perhaps he had just not deemed it necessary to discuss her, with how little bearing she has on their daily lives. Maybe Cardan had just been overcautious, primed too well on the example of his own absent mother.
Maybe he should have been more ruthless in his guessing.
That thought, at least, gets his mouth to form words. ]
It would have been impolite to guess at missing relatives.
[ Well, it would have. His eyebrow quirks. ]
But perhaps you knew that.
[ He is starting to think his husband was a little more calculated about this than he'd suspected. ]
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And he thinks that his husband, of all people, should be permitted to know more of him than the sober, dutiful man he was wed to.]
Why, I suppose you're right.
[By the contrite cant to Liem's brows, he hadn't considered the unfair position his game put Cardan in, if he actually wanted to have a chance of besting him. But his eyes are too merry.]
Surely you're not accusing me of setting you up.
[Who would even do that? Just play games with his spouse that give him no real chance of winning? Surely no-one Liem knows.]
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Glad, too, because Liem is so rarely in a mood like this. He can think only of a few occasions when his husband has been as playful as this; it looks surprisingly good on him. He wonders if he's rubbing off on Liem or if it's just that he had been too uncertain of Cardan to show this side of himself.
Regardless, he does not wish to discourage it.
And still, he cannot exactly let the cheekiness go -- especially since he's sure Liem is angling for a reaction. His mien crumbles; for a moment, he looks dramatically wounded. ]
Me? No. [ It was technically a question; an accusation is declarative. ] Whyever would I expect my kind, noble, scrupulous husband to engage in petty trickery at my expense?
And on the night of his birth, at that.
[ Says Cardan, who a month ago knew little and less about birthdays. Does Liem have any duty to be virtuous tonight? Probably not.
His hand still cradles Liem's face. The other will join it now. He leans in closer, pressing himself into Liem's space; the hurt expression falls away, revealing a rather unimpressed one. This is what he would do if he were looking to intimidate someone, though he's accepted by now that his tactics seem to make his husband horny more than anything else. ]
Drink your wine, you villain, and tell me all your secrets.
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No, surely that kind of trickery should be beneath the conscientious son of Duke Talbott.]
On the night of my birth is when I have the most licence to have my way, [he points out.
Perhaps he wants to turn the tables on his spouse for once. If he wishes to be villainous, there is no better night than this during which to do it — though, he wonders at the traditions here in Faerie, that Cardan's notions of an Ironside birthday celebration seem so rudimentary. Perhaps they are more different than he had realized.
But if his husband's feigned dismay pleases him, the way he looms into Liem's space pleases him even more. He meets his husband's somewhat sour-sounding demand with veiled delight, like a child trying not to betray excitement for a gift he'd already peeked at.]
Oh— All of them, husband?
[He'd promised Cardan everything, of course, but surely there is only so much he can be expected to divulge in one night.
But obligingly, he gropes for — and finds — the stem of his goblet, though he doesn't actually attempt to drink from it with Cardan monopolizing his face.]
I discovered the true need for servants to open doors when I was nine.
[Weirdly late, for such an observant and inquisitive young man. This anecdote is actually a little embarrassing, but only in the way that many childhood stories are, and he ventures boldly on.]
This is because, much earlier, my father convinced me that houses with ungrateful occupants eventually stop opening their doors at all, if they are snubbed for long enough. I spent years thanking the house religiously whenever it admitted me anywhere — to the amusement, I think, of everyone else in the home.
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Off to the side, a sprite has snuck up to the picnic basket, its hands clasped on the woven edge as it peers out from behind it. Seeing the basket’s owners occupied, it swings itself over said edge and tumbles inside with a tiny, triumphant whoop.
Cardan ignores this in favour of sitting back so that he can tug Liem into his lap. If this makes it difficult for Liem to hold on to his goblet — well, that’s not Cardan’s problem, and anyway, he trusts his husband’s reflexes. Cardan is busy sliding warm hands up under Liem’s jacket, sweeping them up over his back, indulgent. This small pleasure, at least, will mollify him — but then, when doesn’t it? He so likes having Liem for his own, to touch as he pleases, to feel his lean weight on top of his own as he listens to the — oddly cute — story. He imagines the small child in the painting thanking the house’s doors, and feels a corner of his mouth quirk up. ]
You mean that isn’t the way to its heart? [ …hearth? Whatever it is that houses possess. ]
No wonder none of my efforts have yielded results.
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But he does manage it, of course — he is mostly sober still — and he greets Cardan's look and Cardan's wandering hands with satisfaction. A private evening like this would be wasted without his husband's hands on him, anyway.]
Have you been trying to charm my house out from under me?
[He drapes an arm comfortably over Cardan's shoulders, and leans in briefly to press a kiss to that smiling corner of his mouth. Even though it's already in his hand, his wine is liable to end up just as neglected as the contents of the picnic basket at this rate.]
I'm sure manners are appreciated — but it's hard to know exactly how best to charm a house that never speaks. It's always been good to me, though.
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Of course it was good to you.
[ Of course it was good to Liem, who is earnest and dutiful enough to spend years being unfailingly gracious to it. Though he wonders -- as he has in the past -- if what truly matters to the house is not demeanour so much as blood. Cardan, who wasn't born into the family, who isn't even a vampire, may have no chance with it to begin with, no matter how endearing he attempts to make himself.
Well, no matter. He has faced down worse odds when it came to friendship, and he's already developed a habit of talking to the building over the months of living there; if nothing else, it is soothing to converse with an entity that listens but cannot contradict you.
The brush of Liem's lips on his skin is distracting; it always provokes a strange delight in him. Strange, because he should be used to it -- it isn't as if they kiss rarely. It's not as if he couldn't chase that careful kiss with his own, his breath impertinently warm against Liem's skin, stoking the pleasant tension that dances down his spine each time Liem shifts in his lap.
But he doesn't, for once. Instead he watches his husband, his eyes half-lidded and deceptively languid. ]
If it should be charmed by anything, it is my saving it from your choices in wallpaper.
[ The difference between Tea Rose and Misty Rose is that one of them is disgusting, and it is distressing that Liem should fail to understand which. ]
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To think that my own spouse would be so eager to malign me. There isn’t even anyone else around whose thoughts you might poison.
[Unless one counts the tiny pixies infiltrating their picnic basket, which he categorically does not. Initially, he had been curious about the diminutive fey, but their ubiquity over the past couple weeks has begun to tire even his foreign sensibilities. They may as well be so many twittering little birds, a fluttering backdrop to accompany the blossom-scented breeze and the soft glow of Cardan’s lanterns.
Gamely, he takes another sip of his drink, though Cardan seems to have thoroughly abandoned his own. He considers his spouse with an intent sidelong look.]
Perhaps you simply mean to distract me from this lovely thing you have done for me — so that you might protect your terrible, villainous reputation.
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Anyway, he wants both of his hands on Liem right now.
His smile is toothy. ]
You seem to think it undeserved, husband.
[ He wonders how Liem must see him. It is true that between the two of them, they are certainly acquainted with far crueler villains — but Liem has hardly seen the worst of what Cardan has done. Really, the trick with the bathtub wasn’t even particularly mean in comparison to his usual.
But he hasn’t pulled anything comparable on Liem since. Perhaps it had been fear, at least in the immediate: he recalls the wretched, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach when his spouse had not shown up to bed that day at all. And after that — well, after that they had their hands more than full for a while, and it seemed rude to be awful to someone who was putting their life on the line for Cardan’s own.
He remembers, too, how unhappy his husband had been when Dain had suggested Cardan was, perhaps, a little bit of a fuck-up. It seems strange to imagine that anyone could spend half a day in the High Court and not be immediately convinced of Cardan’s rotten nature — and yet he’s starting to wonder if Liem actually truly believes his reputation to be only for show.
How incredibly funny a joke that would be. ]
Besides, getting you drunk and into my lap is hardly as much of a treat for you as it is for me.
[ He recalls it too well: that unguarded flash of relief on Liem’s face when he’d spotted him across the room — the warm smiles tucked against Cardan’s skin, so honest he’s not sure Liem was even conscious of them. The pliant, yearning way his husband had fit himself against Cardan, as if he was someone safe, someone comforting.
When had anyone last made him feel like such a person?
He wants to see it again. Only this time, he intends to let Liem do whatever he wants with him instead. ]
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And yet, Cardan has never seemed anything but genuine when he describes himself thus. If he is faking his earnestness for the sake of a persona, it is the most convincing act Liem has ever seen.]
Oh—? Are you so sure of that?
[The lips lingering near the rim of his goblet curve in a little smile. Oh yes, how terrible of his wicked husband to bring him to this lovely, peaceful, private place, pour him a glass of heady Faerie wine, and scoop him into his lap to get his hands all over him. How selfish. How ungentlemanly.
Why ever would Liem wish for anything different?
He is not much of a drinker, as their trip to Cardan’s homeland has so handily proved, but he doubts there exists any grown vampire who’s never gone to the effort of getting drunk. The wine his husband has poured for him is infinitely more palatable than the entire bottles of ghastly-tasting hard liquor required to get a young vampire properly sauced, so if he wishes to oblige his husband, he has no need to down the rest of his cup in one long, deep drink.
But he does anyway, since he sees no reason not to. If Cardan didn’t wish for him to drink such a large glass all at once, surely he wouldn’t have poured him that much.]
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Not that it stops his hand from fluttering up, drawn to the motion of Liem's pale throat when he tips back the goblet. His fingertips brush up the side of his husband's slim neck, up towards his face, curling themselves at the juncture of jaw and ear. ]
Yes, [ he says, seriously, because no matter how much Liem might be enjoying himself, he could not possibly be as pleased as Cardan. He cannot think of a single instance in their marriage when he has felt as free -- as unencumbered by looming duty or the advance of time. Here, under the stars, with the gentle shiver of wind-blown flowers above them, everything feels infinite.
When he presses forward to kiss the taste of wine from his husband's mouth, it is with barely concealed longing. It should rightly terrify Cardan, just how easily he went from not knowing this man at all to wanting all of him so fervently: his secrets and his desires and his quiet, deliberate smiles. If Liem knew -- if anyone knew -- surely it would ruin Cardan wholesale.
But no one knows, and so he can yet indulge in this private pleasure. When he pulls away, it is only so he can paint that white throat with careful, unhurried kisses -- can tuck his nose in the crook of his husband's neck and breathe in his scent. ]
Have you finally decided to join me in debauchery, husband?
[ His brief appearance at Hollow Hall aside, Liem has been his usual measured self -- a thing even more noticeable at faerie revels. More than one courtier had obliquely insinuated to Cardan how dull his married life must be.
Cardan runs greedy hands over his husband's flanks, down to his hips, his thighs, and thinks about how, out of all the tricks he's ever pulled off, this one is most definitely the grandest. ]
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Cardan may think Liem's presence in his lap is primarily a gift for himself, but Liem remains inclined to disagree. The arm around his shoulders tightens possessively as his husband kisses him, claiming Cardan jealously for his own — as though he had any intention to leave. Though Cardan may think himself the one who has his spouse conveniently in his possession for the evening, the sudden flare of avarice in Liem's heart at the caress of slow kisses over his throat makes him think otherwise.
After all, no one else has a right to that warm mouth, or that soft breath, or those wandering, greedy hands.]
I can think of no better night for it.
[The rush of that wine is not quite immediate, but he feels the heat of it settling in his stomach and beginning to spread out, to his belly, his limbs, his face and the tips of his ears, wrapping him in ease like a comfortable blanket. By the time it reaches his fingers, he'll know that he's well and properly sauced.]
If your debauchments were more often private affairs, perhaps I would join you more frequently.
[His fingers find their way into Cardan's hair, affectionate. In Liem's fantasies, Cardan would seduce him with games and liquor whenever he wished. Would that they had the leisure for such frequent indulgence.]
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Oh?
[ His fingertips travel, tracing the spread of the soft flush over his husband's cheek, to his ear. It is odd, still, to feel no heat there. He wants to press his lips to the lavender tint of it, wants to map the cool skin with his own warmth -- and so he does. ]
And there I thought I was doing you a favour, holding back. Not distracting you from your papers, [ he murmurs against the shell of Liem's ear. After all, if they are alone, and not already fucking or sleeping, they are likely together in the office. He doesn't actually expect Liem to get hosed with him on his couch -- and it's not like Cardan often gets anywhere past mildly tipsy -- but it is an attractive thought. ]
But perhaps I have been insufficiently ruthless. Perhaps I should lean you over your own desk and have my way, tax forms be damned.
[ Is it a promise, or a threat? He's not entirely sure. ]
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You have been so good to me, husband.
[He sighs, humour and self-satisfied contentment mingling in the smile that curves his cheek. Such patience his husband displays just for him; such forbearance. He shines a light on his past consideration even as he threatens future mischief. When he married Cardan, he never would have supposed that his spouse would forgo personal pleasures just to help Liem keep on top of his work.]
I almost can't believe you haven't yet. Didn't you say you would leave patience to me?
[Not that Liem has any patience, at present, occupied as he is with his husband and the fuzzy bloom of wine through every part of him. The elegant length of Cardan's pale throat beckons him, and he dips toward it to trail open-mouthed kisses over the lovely curve of it, nuzzling just beneath the sharp angle of his jaw. His murmur is unabashedly affectionate.]
There aren't enough hours in the night for me to monopolize your attention as much as I would like.
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