Princess Alver (og Cale x Alver)

Part 3

Despite the great number of days that Cale, even with his rather impressive alcohol tolerance, had found himself too drunk to even support his own weight there wasn't a single experience similar to this one.

Cale Henituse was a man of rather strict ideals and principles. Of course, outwardly, he looked like an unpleasant thug that could be found on any street corner with an alcohol to blood ratio that would truly astonish any passing physicians. But inwardly, he had a rather strict code of ethics that he adhered to.

He never displayed violence or aggression in front of children. He never picked fights with upstanding citizens. He always made sure the establishments he wrecked were well compensated for. And he never engaged in a drunken tryst.

Aside from the many ethical issues that arise when the parties involved were intoxicated, Cale's very position as the son of the lord made pursuing even a casual romance problematic.

Who could fearlessly reject the Count's son? Especially his lout of a son who was known for being violent when he wasn't appeased? Who wouldn't feel pressured to agree, not because they actually held any fancy for Cale, but rather because Cale was the person who held all of the power necessary to destroy their lives.

Cale balked at the mere thought and so, he'd never once woken up alongside another person. He had a raunchy reputation for being as morally loose with his libido as he was with everything else but Cale had never once even agreed to meet with partners who appeared genuinely eager.

Cale played the part of scummy bastard that would sleep with anything and anyone on two legs but he really really wasn't.

The could explain for one of the many reasons he was unprepared to wake up with this unparalleled beauty in his arms.

She had dark brown hair that was nearly black, chestnut skin with a cute heart shaped face, long lashes and supple lips. From the feel of her body against his own, she was in good shape as well. Hard muscle accompanied two soft lumps that were pressed against his chest. Her gentle breathing tickled his lips.

Cale was jealous of her ability to breathe in this situation. He certainly couldn't. Not anymore. Not with the absolute vision of everything beautiful literally wrapped up in his arms. On his bed. In his room.

What had he done last night?

He could remember this woman. He'd seen her at the bar and she'd even helped him out a bit after that. She'd neatly dispatched his attackers better than even he could and it would be a lie to say he hadn't admired her form.

She was undeniably incredible and–

An elf?

A strand of her dark hair fell onto her cheek and revealed an ear that was just a bit pointier than Cale was used to seeing. Was she an elf though? He couldn't be sure. He hadn't ever seen one in person and it was possible that she was just born with pointy ears. What would an elf be doing here anyway?

...especially right here in his arms. In his bed. In his room.

Cale was starting to spiral on those specific thoughts. It was impossible not to. He couldn't move for fear of waking her up but he would need to wake her up in order to handle this absolutely insane situation. He hoped that she was wearing clothes but he hadn't dared to look to find out. He could still feel his own clothes though which offered him some comfort.

Not enough.

What happened after she helped him? How the hell did he handle...?

She shifted in her sleep and the panic inside of him strangely dulled.

He knew the answer, he'd known the answer the whole time, he just didn't like the answer. She was his benefactor, she was certainly the most beautiful person Cale had seen in his entire life, and there was also a distinct possibility that he had wronged her in some way last night. Three factors that made Cale's answer quite unpalatable.

It had to be done though. He had a reputation to uphold. Besides, if he did this right, maybe it could help to bolster his reputation into further depths.

Despite himself, Cale brushed the errant hair behind her ear and allowed himself just one more moment to admire her.

He'd always liked luxury. Beautiful clothes, expensive wine, he was the sort of person who would spend a fortune on beauty.

It seemed to him though in this quiet moment that there wasn't any fortune large enough to be worth this beauty.

Strong enough to hold her own, brave enough to fight for what she believed, cunning enough to get him home, and kind enough to help him at all. It was a quick judgment but Cale thought that the beauty of her heart probably did match her external beauty. He was a good judge of character overall and he was so rarely wrong about people that he hardly ever doubted himself.

He tried to doubt himself at the moment though.

With her character lined up in his thoughts the way that it had, he truly struggled to persuade himself to do what he must. He wanted to thank her and perhaps talk to her, maybe even figure out over tea just how accurate his assessment was. He wanted to apologize for whatever he must have done for her to wind up wrapped up in his arms throughout the night.

He created a narrative in his head that could sew doubt. Perhaps she'd been working alongside those thugs and this was all a clever ruse to get into his bed with him and then extort his father for money. It wasn't an impossible scenario but it just didn't hold up to scrutiny.

Cale let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He just needed to get this over with.

There was a thump as the thankfully fully clothed woman was shoved off of the bed, a look of bafflement on her sleepy face as she woke up to pain and a condescension on Cale's upturned chin.

"Filthy peasant, how dare you presume to sleep on my bed?"