This is me
'I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I'm meant to be, this is me.' - Greatest Showman
In spite of it all she still liked to wear her 'mortal underwear'.
The matching bra and pant set that she'd been exposed in after being force fed Faerie fruit, that set she'd destroyed. She'd never wanted to wear anything like it again.
Yet, whilst they'd been shopping with Oak, possibly her last trip to the human world for a decade, her eyes had fallen on some in a shop window.
"Go on," Vivi had nudged her, "spoil yourself. You deserve it." So, she had, knowing that it would be the last time in a very long while that she would. She chose them to be functional, but she also chose them to be pretty. The rational part of her brain informed her that she wouldn't need pretty. She agreed, but she got them anyway.
Vivi eyed her choices critically as she handed over glamoured leaves, a mischievous grin on her face
"Who are they for? Not trying to win back Locke I hope." The smile was genuine, but her tone was tense at the edges. Jude shook her head.
"They're for me." It felt good to say it.
For one flicker of a moment a very different face to Locke's had snapped into her mind but she dismissed it equally as fast. "Not going to happen," she vowed as she walked away from the store, clutching her mortal fripperies in her hand instead of a dagger. He'd ruined one perfectly nice set for her forever. He was never setting eyes on these.
She should have known that 'never' was not something she could promise when it came down to Carden.
The night had been a tedious one of removing glasses of Fae-equivalent alcohol out of unappreciative hands and attempting to intercept an ill-advised intimate encounter, getting resoundingly verbally lashed for her efforts. She returned to her room in a mood like oil. Black and sticky. She felt weary to the bone, soul-sick, and the day was not yet over for her. Sleep was not something Jude allowed herself much of. Nowhere was safe and a locked door was no real deterrent to an assassin. She would know after all. It was only in the light of day, when the Fae slept, that she was able to conduct her training. Her official role to Carden was advisor not body-guard – assassin – spy – king-maker, and no one could know otherwise. So, she trained in secret, in the sun. It was vital if she didn't want to expire before her time was up or lose her temporary figure-head. As temporary as ten years was in the span of a Fae's immortality. It would be a third of her life, if she was lucky.
In this frame of mind Jude eased herself out of her courtly attire and left it over a chair for her maid to put away. They fussed if she did it herself, resented it, and it was already a stone in their shoe that she refused to let them undress her at the end of the night. Protestation of how late she went to bed in the morning did not seem to soothe. Easier to let them put away her dresses and make some mess for them to tidy up.
Now in only her underwear Jude stretched out her aching muscles. She would need to change and meet Ghost in just under an hour. The mirror reflected her bruised mortal body back to her. Scars traced white lines over her skin. Her eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep. Here and there she could read the faint traces of her daily poisoning that Ghost had pointed out to her. She felt very much older than she ought and very much more mortal. The underwear set, however, was pretty. Jude felt a small, proud burst of satisfaction. She'd chosen the set well. They were white and adorned with little butterflies. She felt attractive in it, even if it was just for herself. A smile tugging at her lips, Jude padded into her main room, letting her bare feet relish in the patches of sun warm carpet. The early morning light was spilling through her un-curtained windows and for a moment she paused in a sun patch, letting the golden light ease over her worn skin. Jude shut her eyes and turned her face into the glare so behind her lids she saw only red. Rotating slowly as though baking evenly, she turned her back to the window, her face to the door, which is where she was standing when they abruptly burst open.
It would have only taken her a second to drop and snatch the dagger hidden under the sofa, but she had to open her eyes first. She registered the intruder as Carden before she grabbed for the knife. It wasn't just Carden though, it was a drunk Carden.
"You're going to get yourself killed bursting into my rooms like that," she told him with ice in her voice. "Come to shout at me some more?"
He was staring.
"Yes, but…" he slurred only a little, overly loud, he stared, eyes not on her face and then she remembered.
Her first instinct was to cover up for modesty, and then she recalled he'd seen her more humiliated than this. That gave her a helpful injection of anger. Her next thought was to worry that he'd be repulsed by the way she looked. That was a concerning thought because, really, why should she care? Let him see the lengths she'd gone through for him, in a sort of, indirect, way.
"Like what you see?" she asked with a sneer. His head jerked up, eyes locking onto hers and she froze, because, yes, actually, he did. It was written all over his face. She tried to feel disgusted but couldn't summon enough to cover how gratifying it felt. Jude stood up a little straighter.
After the last time she'd felt exposed, humiliated, vulnerable. She'd never wanted to be seen like that again. Her clothes were her armour, her defence, and the hidden pockets of weapons certainly helped. This though, it felt empowering. Her skin, bruised and scarred and poisoned as it was, fit her. She felt wonderfully in control.
To his credit, despite being on NeverNever, Carden did try to keep his eyes on her face. She suspected that was more to do with his embarrassment, not hers.
"Seriously," she hiked her eyebrows and now he flickered anger and shame in equal measure. "Where's your proud conquest?"
"Carden, I really would advise against…"
"Really?" His sneering face pressed into the space of her own, all spite and anger. "You'd advise? You? Mortal that you are?" Over his shoulder the Faerie harlot (not really a harlot Jude, be honest) smirked in beautiful, vicious victory.
"Really?" She'd lowered her voice to a whisper, eyes on his in a challenge. "That's the insult you're going with?"
A flicker of awareness passed over his face. A memory of what she'd done to him, still so hard to swallow he choked on it.
"You mortals smell of rot," he hissed. "Leave."
She'd affected a bow for appearance only, stiff disgust in every muscle shift and then left him to his obviously manipulative companion's ministrations.
"Gone." He said it coldly. "Because of you. Gone."
She could read the full truth on his face. Gone long enough for him to get entirely drunk afterwards and come storming in here. Gone too fast for anything to really have happened. She would ignore that hopeful flutter.
"You." He pointed with a jab and stepped closer. "You…Mortal." He tried to snap it like an insult, as he had earlier, but this time she heard the caress.
"Yes," she lilted sarcastically, "as you've said. Filthy, smelling of rot." She took a step closer, meeting him part way, squaring up. "So why are you here?"
He said nothing, just glowered and she knew the answer was evasive and uncertain.
"To shout at me?" she prompted, voice low, "or to kiss me?"
He winced in the flicker of his mouth, the twitch of an eyebrow and she knew she got it right.
"Its not the same," he managed eventually, eyes on hers, resisting the urge to sweep over the rest of her.
"What's not the same?"
His mouth set in a stubborn line, but his gaze dropped to her lips, communicating his meaning even as he didn't use words. Jude couldn't help the amused tone that escaped, mocking and cold. "Kissing? I, a disgusting mortal, have ruined your ability to have casual sex?"
Even as she said it there was an incredulous flavour to the words but his expression, or lack of, sent the truth smashing into her chest.
"Oh."
"Oh." He echoed back with the trace of a sneer.
It sent a flash of such fierce annoyance through her that she took a step forward into his personal space, practically pressed against him.
"Seems to me that you're in no position to have that sort of attitude," she snipped. He was fixated on her, frozen in place, waiting for her move.
Suddenly she realised she was in danger. In danger of doing something just to pretend that she was proving a point but-maybe-that-wasn't-the-real-reason and that something was going to give her emotional whiplash further down the road.
"You should go." He was as startled by the abrupt change of tone as she was and…disappointed. She steeled her tone further. "Well, I'm not going to kiss you and I'm certainly not going to have sex with you, so now you've finished the shouting aspect of your visit you may as well just leave."
He hesitated. She watched the battle on his face, of pride, arrogance, anger. She'd had enough.
"Don't make me command you."
Her voice was weary. Tired of the fight. Her hate no longer had the same flame. Let him glare, she thought, so long as he leaves, but in true Carden style he had to have the last word.
"Pity." He lifted his hand and to her utter shock, hovered it over the skin of her waist. There was a scar there and he traced it without touching. She felt her nerves shudder as though he had.
"If you say so," she managed, eyes locked on his, burning into each other, as though he was giving her the chance to change her mind. She inclined her head at the door. "Good night."
There was a flash of anger, frustration, in the curl of his lips, even as he turned to go.
"You better put some clothes on before someone suspects you to be my consort," he sneered as he reached the doors. He tried to make it sound disgusting to him. It was a weak move.
Jude placed one hand on her lip, inclining her bruised, broken, utterly human, mortal, fallible, body in an angle of power, reveling in her own sexuality.
"We wouldn't want that," she purred back, "It would completely ruin your image. Especially if those Faerie harlots of yours choose to talk." She rolled the words on her tongue like honey and let them drip from her lips with a smile, all oversweet and barbed mockery.
Carden gave no response, instead opting to slam the door.
Alone and silent Jude let her eyes slid shut, let the sun prickle over her skin and let out her breath. She gave herself one moment to let her heart settled back into its familiar rhythm before she spoke.
"If you could give me a moment to get dressed before we start…"
Ghost's voice drifted out from the shadows.
"You shouldn't antagonise him like that."
Jude waved her hand dismissively and walked over to her training clothes.
"Hey," she pulled them on, not bothering to ask for privacy. "He's the one who walked in on me half naked."
She turned, now clothed to find Ghost stood in the room, waiting.
"I think he had noticed that," her trainer pointed out without a hint of expression and Jude found herself completely unable to hide her grin.
"Yeah. I think he did too."