crossed over (alver x og cale)

Part 13

Hmm... things certainly weren't going exactly as planned but Cale was choosing to be optimistic.

Sure, he was currently imprisoned and probably considered kidnapped by his family. Did it count as kidnapping if the government did it? Was it arrest? Wait, Cale hadn't actually committed any crimes so was it illegal detainment? Then again, who the fuck knew how fantasy laws fucking worked. Maybe it was totally legal and normal for royals to kidnap citizens in the name of protecting some inane secret.

Cale could still see the shock overtaking Alberu's face. It was a bit dramatic all things considered. Maybe in fantasy-world veils really were supposed to entirely hide a person's identity.

Fantasy worlds blow. Cale was going to personally burn every fantasy novel he could find when he got home. And he was definitely going to get home. He'd had just about enough of all this fantasy bullshit. It probably wasn't possible to go home or whatever but just fuck this.

Maybe he was a bit soured over matters now that he was chilling out in a jail cell. Admittedly, it had more creature comforts than he would expect from some secret political prison but he could tell that it was a whole lot of fluff added on top of a dank dungeon.

At least that stupid prince had made the barest efforts to make the space comfortable for him. He figured that was probably a good sign for his longevity.

He was still annoyed with the number of times he'd been asked bullshit like how did you know, what the fuck was he supposed to say other than I'm not fucking blind, that's Alberu Crossman, holyshit did you think that veil concealed anything? Get real.

That probably hadn't endeared him to his captures but Cale was plenty fucking endearing without kissing ass.

Cale believed in aggressive positive self-talk. It didn't ring true unless it didn't sound like the start to an argument. He's favorite was fuck you, I'm fuckable as hell so suck my dick. It wasn't actually an invitation or an argument but it certainly made him feel pretty on days when he felt like shit.

Small victories. That was what his fucking therapist wanted him to focus on.

'Alright. What small victory can I find here?'

The shitty cell offered no answer so Cale invented one of his own.

'Hey, I'll have more time to convince his royal shittiness to deal with the fucking assassin problem and I'll be untouchable here. There's my fucking silver lining.'

Not that Cale had been terribly worried about achieving either goal without having to be imprisoned. Oh well. The cushion he was laying back against was cushy and Cale was not going to mope.

He was way too annoyed for moping. Cale had only been stuck in this stupid place for roughly a day now and he had plenty of anger to work through before it was appropriate to mope.

"...Ron's gonna be pissed at me." He chuckled to himself with a headshake.

"Who's Ron?"

"Fuck!" Cale jumped up, glaring at the bastard for surprising him. "Could fucking announce your arrival, dipshit–!"

Cale stopped mid-cuss, it wasn't because he was looking into the face of the crown prince of the kingdom he lived in which ought to have been a concern for any individual living within its confines considering how dimly nobility tended to view insults. No, he would have happily cussed up a storm at the fucking prince, consenquences be damned.

It was that he was looking at a pasty-pale blond and blue eyed version of the guy.

He squinted.

"...the fuck is wrong with your face?" He blanched. "Why are you blond?"