ANOTHER LAYER

I have come to fulfil my quest of supplying dark!Cardan requests so here we go: set before Cardan becomes king, he and his gang on cronies are still in school and so is the reader. Her and Cardan have an on off relationship and what I mean by hat is that he degrades her consistently, makes her feel like absolute crap only to then double back on his words and claim that she’s the opposite of whatever it is that he said. This has been happening for years so you can see how the reader is confused in this situation and it escalates to a point where she debates just stop talking to him. He finds out, makes a grand plan that sets his cronies on her and for her to then crawl back to him for comfort only this time… he offers her a drink that is poisoned with something that makes her more susceptible to what he says. Do he basically says that he’s all she needs and that she’s his and what not. Have fun!

OMG THIS WAS SO SO MUCH FUN

warning: DARK SUPER DARK DO NOT GO UNDER THE CUT IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH STUFF LIKE THIS (mental and mentions of physical abuse, yandere cardan, kinda soft cardan in the end, kidnapping, allusions to stalking), also mentions of sex (like the literal word)

ANOTHER LAYER

You weren’t enough. Not for him, not for anyone.

But that was on Wednesday. On Friday, no one was good enough for you. On Friday you had him worshiping you and lavishing you in affection. 

You didn’t get it. Not one bit.

One day it was “I love you,” the next it was “And how could anyone see anything but a disgusting mortal in you?”

Either way, you remained empty and confused.

Empty, like the glass of wine on your bedside table and the heart that he claimed you owned. Empty like the embrace you were held in, the sleeping prince behind you, arm around your waist.

~*~

He didn’t know what to feel about you.

On one hand, you were mortal. On the other, you were his, and nothing of his was less than perfect.

“Let them go, Cardan,” Nicasia would sigh. “They’re not worth it.”

And that was how she got the long, jagged scar down the side of her beautiful face. 

But of course Nicasia was still beautiful. Who else would he ever compare you to on the days he couldn’t stand that you were his? But you still were at the end of it, so he would try to make it up to you.

A prince’s affection is not something to be taken lightly. 

However, you only seemed to drift away from him every time he did something like that, every time he loved you. He needed you closer.

He couldn’t breathe without you next to him.

He couldn’t live, not like this. He couldn’t live with his mind clogged up with thoughts of you.

So, if you didn’t want his love, what did you want? His hate?

If you wanted it, he’d give it to you tenfold. But the second, the very minute you wanted him fully, his love, everything he could offer you, he’d give it to you.

It hurt him more than it would hurt you.

~*~

And so here you were, once again crying into your pillow from the cruel prince’s equally cruel words. 

There were no more days that he would love you, no more days he would tell you how pretty you were. 

There was just pure hatred and sex.

That was it.

You had begun to miss those days despite the everlasting state of confusion you were always in.

He loves me. He loves me not.

He hates me.

That was it.

A knock sounded on the door, and your older sister walked in. She hated the faerie realm, but stayed for you, to protect you.

“I heard about what happened at school.”

You buried your face further in your pillow, willing your body to disappear in whatever surrounded you, air, magic, whatever.

She approached your body, sprawled on the bed. You could feel her fingers brush your back. “Do you want… would you consider leaving? We don’t have to stay once you turn eighteen-”

That was an idea. A very good one.

You loved him, you realized, but you needed to get away before he and his friends absolutely killed you. 

Your ribs twinged once again, a reminder of the afternoon.

You looked up at your sister, a woman who had so many of your features, and nodded. 

You had never seen her smile so wide.

~*~

It wasn’t working. 

You weren’t listening to him, though he supposed he couldn’t expect you to read his mind.

He could tell you to leave but he really meant to stay.

He could tell you that you were disgusting, but he really meant that you were stunning beyond belief.

But you still weren’t glued to his side as he’d hoped. In fact, you only seemed to get farther away from him, the only moments of contact being sex and whenever he laid a hand on you otherwise. Every crack produced one of equal magnitude in his heart.

Every cry that left your lips made him want to sob.

But it was for you, he remembered. So you would finally, finally give in.

But you weren’t. And he was terrified. Not only could you possibly be hurt beyond repair at any moment, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He would crumble. 

He couldn’t afford that.

~*~

You were gone. 

He was going to give you a gift for your birthday too. 

You were nowhere to be found; your parents were sobbing, your sister and yourself gone, your rooms empty.

You weren’t there.

You had left.

You had left him.

~*~

You didn’t come back either. Not the next day, not the week after, not even the month after.

That was a problem.

Wine made it worse, as did his friends. 

But, there was one thing that made it better. The opportunity to get you back.

His father would step down soon enough. There was no way he’d ever be giving the position to his youngest son, of course, that would be preposterous. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take it, and with it, you.

He could make anyone do anything that way. 

He could find you. His people would find you, and he would bring you home. One way or another.

And this time, he wouldn’t hate you, simply because he couldn’t. You’d be proud of him. He’d grown up.

~*~

You’d made a life for yourself. You had a job, a house, your sister.

No Cardan. Nothing binding you to the faerie world.

It was a breath of fresh air.

At least until you kept seeing little flashes of blue and green in the corners of your vision. Just little things, but not quite… concerning.

You were just being paranoid. 

~*~

He was sober. He was dressed in his most formal attire, down to the T.

He’d missed you. Beyond comprehension.

And you missed him, he hoped. But if you didn’t, there was always the vial of whatever sedative was in his pocket, if worse comes to worse. 

He didn’t want to threaten you.

So, with that, he rang the doorbell.

You’d done well for yourself, really. You didn’t do all too well, he could’ve done better if you’d just let him love you, step in and take care of you.

Leaning against the railing leading to the door of your…humble abode, he took in the garden. The smells.

You liked flowers. He took note of that.

Answering the door, you seemed to freeze.

“Prince Cardan.”

He smirked down at you, “King Cardan, actually. But you don’t have to worry about the title, love.”

Your eyes were still wide, wider when he dropped his title. You didn’t even notice the term of endearment. That was fine. There was more than enough time to let you become accustomed to love from him. You hadn’t received enough of it before. He was going to change that.

“I don’t care abou- ok, you need to go.”

“Well of course I need to go, as do you. Do you see what you’re doing to yourself in this place? You’re putting yourself down to a lesser station. You need to come home.”

Your eyes widened larger than saucers. “This is home.”

He arched one perfect brow, “No, it’s not. The palace is home, I am home. And you need to get going. This place is going to make you sick.”

“Cardan, leave.”

“I’m sorry, darling, I can’t.”

~*~

When you woke up you were somewhere other. 

Elfhame.

“You need to drink this, miss,” a servant said. Taking the cup you brought it to your lips, taking one large gulp, curing yourself of your parched throat.

But then, then you remembered. Anything could be in that cup. Any poison or enchantment.

Too late.

~*~

So there you were, two days later curled up in Cardan’s lap as he lounged on the throne, running his fingers through your hair, whispering what could be considered sweet words to you.

He did, you learned, consider them sweet. Sweet enough for you.

But, in the end, immortal and confined to the palace, they were just another layer of entrapment.