Folk of the Air One-Shots

Lover

"Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever.

Take me out, and take me home.

You're my, my, my, my

Lover."

Tomorrow, Cardan and I will stand in front of an absurd amount of people in lavish clothes and be married. Despite our private (and binding) exchange of vows, several months ago Cardan expressed the desire to hold a wedding in the way he had always wanted--a revel, really, but with nicer clothes and the obligation for gifts. "I know it's not your style," he said, "but it's mine, and I would appreciate the compromise." So I sat down with him and planned it out--the food, the speeches, the decorations, the clothes. He wanted to mimic a mortal wedding in many ways, such as with the white dress and cake, but keep the eccentricity of the fae deeply woven into the event. I often just smiled and nodded at his ideas, only shooting down those that were too absurd.

I wasn't against the idea--I did love him, and many people knew we were married already. The public wedding was more of a declaration that neither of us would take consorts, and that we planned to stay together for a long, long time. Neither of those were appalling to me, and yet I feel a deep pit in my stomach as I lay in bed next to a soundly sleeping Cardan.

Out of my control, my mind starts to race through every terrible thing that could happen. What if, in fifty years, we hated each other the way we once had? What if this feeling was a flight of fancy, nothing permanent? What if one of us dies? It feels so daunting, to be tied to one person for the rest of my life (which will be as long as his, so long as I stay in Faerie). The idea of making our love so public is out of character for me, even if it's what Cardan wants.

I must be crying, because I feel a soft thumb brush at my cheek bones and flutter my eyes open to see Cardan staring at me with knitted brows. "What's wrong, Jude?" he asks, shifting closer to put an arm around me.

"I don't think you'll love me forever," I tell him, though it's the tiniest fraction of the thoughts running through my head. "It's a long time, and we've only cared for each other so shortly. I just feel like it'll fizzle out, but making our marriage this public will make it permanent."

I'm not sure what I want Cardan to say to me, so I'm grateful that he doesn't respond. Instead, he gently rubs circles into my shoulder. After several minutes of just the sound of our breaths, he kisses the top of my head.

"I'm worried about it too," he tells me. "I don't know why. But when I'm around you, the thought moves to the back of my mind. I'm worried about us falling out of love until I see you, and I'm reminded just how deeply I am in it."

"I feel similarly," I tell him, "but sometimes it's still there. I don't know if that means I love you less, or--"

He cuts me off. "It just means you love me differently. There's no more or less, here."

"Okay."

"I think you're worried because of tomorrow, but when it's over you'll feel better. Do you want to talk more about it, or go to sleep?"

Crying's made me tired, so I choose the latter. This time, however, Cardan throws an arm and leg over me from behind and holds me. It's a change from the big baby he usually is, but I appreciate the comfort.

...

By the time the sun begins to set, we're outside accepting the first of the gatherers. Each gift we received is opened on the spot, and Cardan seems thrilled by every one. Whether it's jewelry, clothes, crafts, or sentimental items, he accepts it more graciously than I've ever seen him.

"You're in a good mood," I remark once the stragglers have made their way to and from the dais we stand on.

"Of course I am. I'm receiving gifts."

"No comment on how beautiful your loving wife looks?" I say, pretending to be offended.

"No comment at all." He smiles at me from the corner of his mouth, and I know it's because he can't bring himself to lie to me and say I'm not lovely. And I have to admit it--I am. The dress we've chosen is long sleeved and covered in fine white glitter that never seems to come off, and the same substance is brushed across both of our eyelids and cheeks. My hair is done up intricately, and I'm wearing more jewelry than I think I ever have. Around my neck is a necklace so heavy I'm afraid it'll leave marks on my collar bone, and on my head is the most intricate crown in our collection, but that's what I get for letting Cardan dress me.

"Thank you for doing this," he tells me after observing our guests. "I know you didn't want to, but I really appreciate it."

"I'm stubborn," I tell him, uncomfortable saying 'you're welcome'. "I'm hard-headed and close minded much of the time. It's the least I could do to extend you some courtesy with this. I don't want you to regret marrying me."

"I would never regret it, Jude. I married you knowing you're stubborn and hard-headed and close minded. You're a villain, but you're my villain, and I love you all the more for it."

I smile at him, but it's words like this that make me worry. One day he won't feel the same, I'm sure. One day he'll decide I'm no longer worth the effort.

Cardan interrupts my thoughts. "I've always felt that way, and I'm sure I always will." He grabs my hand, and we both speak to the guests in regal, projecting voices. And as the night goes on, the words from last night become true. I'm starting to feel better.