Cardan's bed is big enough for them to not even have to touch as they sleep, and yet when they wake up it's always in a tangled mess of limbs. Some days Jude doesn't even know where she begins and where he ends, but she knows his tail will be protectively wrapped around her leg, their hands together, fingers intertwined as if it's the most natural thing they could do.
She'll take the dark, untamed curls from his face, stare at him for a few long moments, play with his hair. He'll not stir, resonating softly.
Even fairies can look mortal.
She'll kiss his brow, and Cardan won't even think of moving, touching his face as if he's made of precious porcelain and even the softest of pats could break him into pieces.
In her wildest dreams, this wasn't something Jude thought would happen to her - and yet here she is, the fuck up who picked too many fights with the wrong people too many times to count, now one of the most powerful figures of Elfhame, in bed with the king. Power tastes like faerie fruit in Jude's mouth, sweet, thick and all-consuming. She kisses his eyelids, and Cardan won't wake, stuck in dreams.
Jude smiles, to herself, perhaps, and kisses him once more, a quick peck on the lips, before she decides to curl near him once more. Ruling can wait a few hours.
"You're not as stealthy as you'd like to think you are." mutters Cardan, with a smirk playing on his lips, eyes still closed, tail tighter against her leg, as if telling her to not go away. Jude considers suffocating him with a pillow and ruling alone for a moment.
"Shut up." She decides, in the end, her skin warm against his. He doesn't reply, except for the quiet kiss on her forehead, before both fall asleep once more.