Chapter Text
1000 years after Jude’s death
In a room, there lies a king. His chambers are that of gold and silk. He is handsome and powerful. But inside him lies great sorrow. He looks out the air.
In his mind he sees her. A white skimpy dress barely reached her thighs. She shakes her hand and looks at him sadly.
He reaches out to her, but then she disappears.
He sobs into the night.
Cardan’s inner voice: It’s your fault she’s dead
Cardan: (Covers his ears with his pillow) Stop.
The voice in his head: You banished her remember? What did you think faeries would not want to kill her?
The mental image of Jude’s body, stiff her blood oozing out, she lay there. Her eyes were in shock—nails filled with foam. It was clear the perpetrator was from the undersea.
Her panties were carelessly tossed aside—a pair of men’s briefs on the floor. Cardan’s mouth dried. He shook his head.
Voice in his head:(Suspiciously sounding like Nicaisa in his head) It’s clear what she wanted to do right before her death. You never truly did make her your wife after all. And now you’re trying to chase after her ghost? Tsk… how pathetic.
He was quiet as he looked at the woman sprawled on his bed. There were tears in her eyes. She bit her lip in her dreams. She was sobbing quietly in them. She was identical to the ghost he chased. Yet not as well.
Taryn Duarte a pale imitation of his wife.
Nicasia’s voice in his head: You better hope there’s no afterlife. What do you think will happen if she’s been watching all these thousands of years as you rape her sister?
Bile swims through his throat. He knows what the Nicasia voice is saying is true.
Jude would despise him. She must despise him.
That made him shake Taryn. She opened her eyes, tears in hers, and whimpered. He closed his eyes. Took deep breathe. His jaw clenched.
Jude. Jude. Jude.
She must despise him.
Even if there was an afterlife, due to this, she would hate him forever.
That sent bile to his throat.
He penetrated the twin. The twin who should have died instead. In his mind, it was his love. The way she crinkles her nose whenever she touched him. How her eyes are closed and would shake ever so slightly in pleasure.
How she pants instead of moans. Taryn was moaning. He told her not to do that. He hated it when she moaned. Taryn was moaning.
He hated when she did that. It ruined his fantasy.
He wanted her to be Jude.
He glared at Taryn.
She was a weeping mess but still moaning. He stared at her hard.
Cardan: (Voice hard through gritted teeth) Fucking stop moaning and pant instead.
Taryn opened her mouth. She gasped. She forced herself to gasp.
He didn’t look her in the eye or kiss her, that was meant for lovers. His tenderness was meant for Jude.
So he pounded on her hard. Hoping to get back to her memory.
Taryn was stifling sobs. He rolled his eyes, ignoring them.
Mental voice in his head: (It sounded like Jude) Why are you doing this?
And suddenly Cardan stopped. He was frozen for a moment. Usually, this meant to Taryn she’d have to move inside him, pleasure him.
He could feel wet tears on his chest as she stuck out her tongue. She was ready to circle his nipple.
He pushed her away. For once in a thousand years he looked at himself. What he was doing.
Was this how he honored her memory? Raping her sister every night? Torturing her.
He could have sworn he saw the slightest hint of sorrow on a pale ghost's form.
It is almost like Jude.
That was the breaking point.
He takes a wine glass, swigs it around, then shatters it. Taryn flinches a little bit. But he can see she’s forcing herself to stay.
Cardan smiles bitterly.
Cardan: (Mentally) Of course she has to stay it’s the only way to protect her child.
Madoc had been killed by the undersea. Locke bored to death with Taryn, one year after the birth of their child, one month after Jude’s death, had abandoned them. She was without any protection. No one was her friend. So when Cardan let her keep her estate and give protection to her child, in exchange for her dignity every night, how could she refuse?
He looked at her hard. She flinched in fear. She was sobbing inside. Trembling so unlike Jude.
Cardan hated it when she cried. It reminded him of what he became, a king who chased a shadow every night. It also reminded him, Jude was dead.
He threw the wine bottle’s remnants at her face. It was just liquid. She forced herself to stay. To endure.
Cardan shook his head. She wasn’t Jude. Jude would glare at him, fire in her eyes even when she was enduring the humiliation, unable to fight back. Taryn? Taryn was broken and wilted.
He sighed. He looked at her again eyes hard.
Cardan: (Voice hard) Get out.
Taryn sobs, and runs as fast as she can, naked through the halls, through the jeers of the guards. She has now been nicknamed the King’s sex slave. 900 years she had the title. He supposed she’ll keep the title all his life.
An imp takes Lady Taryn’s clothes. She glares at the king but says nothing.
But she turns around when she leaves and says to him: Lady Jude would despise what you’re doing.
Something in him snaps. He gets up and roars: Don’t speak about her so lightly.
The imp shakes her head, there is a clear pity in her eyes.
Cardan breaks down and sobs.
Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude.
It has been a thousand years since her death. His soul and heart died with her. Now he is just an empty husk.
He breaks down and sobs as he does every night when Taryn leaves.
Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude.