Through the Looking Glass

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Cale loves Alver.

That is an undeniable truth.

Just as Alver loves Cale.

Their story may have begun on shaky ground with a war on the horizon and an unknown future. Battle after battle was fought, be it physical in the field or verbal in the court.

They both carried out their roles in different domains, yet they never strayed far from each other.

Was it a spontaneous kind of love? A love that ignited after the first glance and burned brighter than the sun? A love that transcended common sense?

No.

It neither happened during the second nor the third meeting. How many times did they stare at each other's mugs, thinking less than family-friendly things and just wanting to be done with interacting, until pure admiration for each other's abilities turned to desire?

At first, Cale tried to avoid anything that had to do with the novel 'The Birth of a Hero'- he failed but that wasn't the point- and Alver Crossman, the shining sun of the kingdom, was -or will be if Cale could have finished reading the novel- a main character.

He was far too similar to Cale, something that put the prince instantly on Cale's 'avoid at all costs' list.

(He failed in that regard too.)

Alver saw Cale as a usable pawn and nothing more when they first met. While not expendable, the young master of the Henituse household wasn't a trusted ally. In the beginning, at least. Every carefully guarded secret of Alver rolled off the damned noble's lips like common facts. The calculated nonchalance of Cale ripped apart the image of trash, showcasing a cold, rational intelligence and an even sharper mind.

He intrigued Alver with his fabricated personality and carefully planned actions.

Cale Henituse became dangerous. A threat to the already fragile house of cards that Alver's future rested on.

Alver laughed himself sick when he realized that he invited a predator instead of a gullible pawn to his side.

And, as the saying goes 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'. They interacted with each other more and more. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and years passed before Alver realized it.

The annoying smirk of Cale became a permanent fixture in his otherwise stale life. All Alver knew before were polite smiles from the nobles, always carrying some hidden agenda, and sneering words when they thought he couldn't hear them. While Cale mastered the game of false smiles and honeyed words, he could also smile a genuine, beautiful smile that always left Alver weirdly breathless.

With a sigh of relief, Alver watched as Cale wreaked havoc among the enemy lines and utterly ripped them apart with the explicit desire for peace that he achieved via the opposite.

Wars came and go. They won and Cale was the one who smiled genuinely when Alver was given the crown, signaling his coronation as the new king of the Rowoon Kingdom. Between all the faces of their allies and reluctant nobles, Alver only had eyes for Cale.

It then hit him out of the blue.

Alver didn't even realize when it started. When did he start seeing Cale's hair and, instead of remembering blood, he saw gentle roses swaying in the wind and imagined the soft touch of those silky strands like aged wine on his lips? He started to associate the color red with positive things. Things that made his heart beat faster and caused his cheeks to flush.

Cale's pale face was illuminated by the lights of the chandelier above him. A soft but oh-so-beautiful smile graced the ex-commander's face. His red-brown eyes gleamed in pride. Pride at the fact that his chosen ruler, Alver, took the mantle of king. Cale trusted him to rule the kingdom he was living in.