#albert crossman x cale henituse

[thistle-01]

Kingmaker AU with advisor Cale and enemy kingdom’s heir Alberu who bribes him into marriage/defecting with gold. Lots and lots of gold.

”I’ll give you one million pieces, indefinite tax exemption and a gated island to ignore the rest of the world and do nothing.”

”Sold.”

[thistle-01]

the birth of a hero. a story of intrigue and romance. kim rok soo picked it up on a whim because all his usual fantasy novels had been rented out and gone.

a story of the protagonist getting duped by his one true love.

a tragedy where several side characters are killed off by his love interest who turns out to be a complete and utter psycho.

this was the story kim rok soo had been dropped into after going to bed at a decent hour.

"i think i'm concerned."

he thought he should be concerned... but it should be ok?

/

the man known as kim rok soo rolled in his bed, loving the comfortable soft sheets and the warmth of the sun on his head. he didn't want to get up - and vaguely he remembered it was the weekend. he had no obligations.

he didn't have to get up.

"young master, it's time to get up."

the voice that called from above was low and old but elegant. suddenly overcome by a chill sweeping up his spine, kim rok soo sat up, blinking his crusted eyes open.

"it's a pleasant surprise to see you get up with one attempt, young master."

"excuse me?"

"the master would like to have breakfast with the entire family. i see it will be possible today."

the man known as kim rok soo looked into the kind eyes of a well aged old man in a uniform, and he froze inwardly though on the outside he appeared calm, if a bit sleepy.

"master cale?"

"cale henituse?"

"that would be your name, young master. are you perhaps still a little woozy from the effects of your liquor last night?"

the man looked beyond the older gentleman who was smiling kindly to the large ornate mirror hanging above his left shoulder.

"fuck me."

/

the sounds of cutlery hitting plates rang through the dining room. a man dressed elegantly was sitting at the head of the table. to his left was a stoic women, a teenaged boy, and a younger girl.

"good morning, son."

"good morning."

it was as if the whole room took a breath but kim rok soo decided not to worry about it. he couldn't worry about little things. it would drive him crazy starting with the fact that he'd somehow been dropped into a cheesy romance novel.

"how is the meal to your tastes, cale?"

"it's fine. it's actually really good."

the teenaged boy who cale knew was basen henituse dropped his fork looking shocked.

"s-sorr-- excuse me, father."

"...it's alright. i'm glad we are here together and can appreciate this good food."

kim rok soo known now as cale nodded and polished his breakfast neatly.

"would you like a drink, son?"

"yes please, father. thank you."

the woman next to the suddenly tearful appearing man cleared her throat looking briefly surprised before reverting to a blank expression.

"how are the preparations coming, cale?"

"preparations?"

"for your school. unless you've changed your mind about attending."

she frowned but the faint concern in her eyes was as clear as day.

"i didn't change my mind. they're going well."

"good. I'm glad to hear that."

cale finished his meal quickly and said to the thoughtful room.

"father i have a request."

"of course, son. what will it be? wine? whiskey? hard liquor?"

the count henituse looked unsurprised and maybe a little relieved.

"i need money. lots of it."

"i'll have your butler bring you a check."

"thank you, father."

the room took a collective breath again but kim rok soo now known as cale only smiled into his plate and finished his food.

this would be fine after all.

/

[thistle-01]

keywords: albecale modern au, meet on the morning subway train

“hm?” he bumped into someone. “oh. sorry—“

“that’s alright,” the guy turned his head slightly. “the train is pretty crowded.”

“unfortunately yes,” alberu smiled. red eyes looked at him from under a pair of red brows which cocked up unevenly, “gotta love rush hour, no?”

“you have a strange sense of love,” with that the guy threw him a distracted smile before facing forward again. he reached into his back pocket, bringing his hand very — extremely — close to alberu’s crotch, but thankfully avoided actually making contact. inevitably, because they really were pressed pretty close and the train was dreadfully crowded as always, alberu got a good glimpse of two kids in the phone the guy pulled out. there was also a black snickerdoodle.

“you have kids?”

“i have three,” the guy replied, eyes flicking toward him briefly. “are you married?”

“dreadfully single, i’m afraid.”

“what’s dreadful about it? i enjoy the free time,”

the guy then pulled out a set of ear buds, plugging them into his ears, therefore ending the conversation. alberu watched him for a moment, admired his handsome silhouette for a moment as well, before he turned to look out the window at the passing landscape. it would be several more minutes before he arrived at his station and he passed those while listening to soft jazz he could hear lightly filtering through the guy’s ear buds and watching the hills go by. the sky was overcast but there wasn’t rain.

“ilsan. the next stop is ilsan station. ilsan.”

“i’m getting off at the next stop,” he warned, tapping a broad shoulder.

the guy looked back, “so am i, don’t worry,”

alberu smiled which the guy returned. they pulled into the station and were almost shoved out by the pile of busy commuters flooding out behind them as well.

“have a good one,” the guy said — or at least alberu believed he did — before they got separated, swept away by the crowd. alberu managed a wave, which he may or may not have seen. he stepped quickly through the station, doing his best to avoid being jostled.

[thistle-01]

When the lamps grow dim and the moon bids hello the bed of the count grows full and plenty.

[thistle-01]

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

[thistle-01]

In the grubby alley, framed by filth and half-eaten meals which he shared with mice, blue eyes glinted, roaring like waves.

“You’re the kingdom, Alberu. The rightful heir.”

Alberu gripped onto his mother, trying in vain to stem the bleeding.

”Our hope, our star. Our everlasting sun—“

Her cough was wet, and when she withdrew her hand it was tinged in blood.

Mother clamped her hand over his neck, shaking him and looking deep within his eyes.

”You must first and foremost protect yourself. Trust no one. Do you understand?”

As the light left her shining blue eyes, Alberu regretted not telling her that he’d do it—

He’d sacrifice everything for the kingdom she gave her life for.

-

“Up, beast.”

The kick startled him awake, digging into his ribs and aching. He rose to his knees, scratching his hair. Ducking his neck so he didn’t have to hide the loathing in his eyes.

Then again—

Alberu looked up, smiling. “Good morning, monsieur.”

”Like hell it is,” the man spat. He crossed his arms, glowering. “If I could go a day without witnessing your ugly mug dirtying my streets it would be too soon.”

”And yet—“ Alberu gestured to the man’s belt, where a coin pouch hung innocently by the rung.

The man glowered harder, teeth poking out between his teeth to herald his rotting gums.

”A pack for the monsieur today?”

”Make it three,” the pouch fell heavily into his waiting hand. “Don’t be stingy on the merchandise.”

”Of course not,” Alberu smiled kindly, palming the pouch and counting out the coins much to the customer’s visible disgust. “All twenty pieces accounted for. Here is your trade—“ the three bags which Alberu fished from inside his threadbare coat were snatched from his fingers. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

”You’ll rot in hell,” the man spun, spitting at the corner of the alley in a way that said, good riddance.

”I’ll have the finest company in you, I’m sure!”

Alberu clenched his fist around the mouth of the coin pouch, pressing his hand against his coat near his heart so it emitted the crunch of folded paper.

He secured the pouch, lacing it through one of the many holes in the inner lining, and got to his feet, stiff from the morning chill but loosening.

It was a typical morning, conducting business to earn a day’s survival—it was standard to visit a tavern next; not that he was welcome in the establishments peppered around town, but there were some who wouldn’t turn down a paying customer. Even one who dressed like him.

Alberu considered his sorry state, tossing the pouch up and down in his palm.

He thought as he walked, thought as he seated himself and ordered a broth. Anything heavier wouldn’t keep on his fickle stomach and later in the day he’d have to labor in the forest, working on tomorrow’s wage.

[thistle-01]

As ward of the tyranny of Mogoru’s current crown, Kim Rok Soo is in the unenviable position of securing a happy ending. He isn't certain how his betrothal to the Roan throne came about as a consequence, but if it results in his survival he’s willing to take it.

[thistle-01]

it’s utter chaos in the kingdom but only because the big names are finally getting a move on.

[thistle-01]

Raon will get these dumb dumbs to face their icky sticky feelings if it’s the last thing he does.

“You’re late!”

There’s a huge grin on the black and scaled face, floating an inch from the red headed human’s nose.

“Yes,” Cale says slowly, raising a brow. “I am?”

He cups a hand in front of Raon’s head, nudging him back a bit. He hangs his coat on the rack, pushing down the hall and handing his bag and scarf to the staff.

“Oh,” he stops her before she leaves. “There’s a package in my bag,” he says. “Take that to the bedroom, please.”

“Not the study, sir?” she asks.

“Please,” Cale replies, waving her down when she bows her neck and acquiesces.

“You’re late!” Raon says again, still grinning. Still floating like a pipe sized balloon at a county fair.

He follows Cale at his heels, brimming with questions, likely, but it seems it’ll be a few before he bursts.

Then he does.

“Where were you human? Were you busy? You’re usually home at this hour, didn’t you get tired? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cale replies, blinking when the dragon zips by in an excited loop de loop before grinning at him upside down. “…what is it?”

“You were with the prince!” Raon screeches, and he ducks until Cale’s hair until he’s wrapped around the back of Cale’s throat.

He gasps, the chill of a reptile against his blood warmed skin making him shiver.

He says, “

[thistle-01]

Their meeting on the train is nothing. A coincidence, in a world that’s governed by spontaneity and randomness. It’s probably meaningless, then, that the man who sits next to him cocks a perfectly plucked brow and offers him a game.

[thistle-01]

Jezebel

If ever the devil was born without a pair of horns It was you, Jezebel, it was you If ever an angel fell, Jezebel, it was you Jezebel, it was you

Song by Frankie Laine

The stone burnt white hot over the heat of the fire, roasting the person lying on it to a steaming crisp.

He screamed - long and hard and loudly into the night… but if there ever was a person to lend an ear to his agony it wasn’t here.

Not in this place.

Not in Devil’s Ire.

/

Hoisting his axe over his left shoulder, Choi Jung Soo heaved a sigh.

He took a breath, drawing stale air and blowing out smoke, and he pushed his hair out of his face, seeking his towel.

It was draped over a chair toward the front of the furnace and he walked there, blinking his stinging eyes.

One would think he’d get used to the aerosolized carbon dust - smoke - after twelve long years slaving away at the nest of it, but it still hurt. Biting just like it had back then.

He snatched back his fingers when an axe descended beside the towel.

”The hell?”

”You think you earned yourself a break? Croaker?”

That was what all the Keepers called the working class. One in three of them would “croak,” dead, before they hit their thirtieth year.

Choi Jung Soo smiled thinly. “Just a tiny one, chief.”

The axe lodged into the towel next. “Get back to work.”

Choi Jung Soo went, wondering if he hadn’t picked the harder way out compared to his dead contemporaries. Certainly his grave didn’t threaten to divest him of his wrists for a reasonable enough request.

Sundown came and went, the crows overhead clocking out for the stars’ dinner party.

Choi Jung Soo grunted as he hefted his ore he just mined, feeling every vertebra as it struggled to align until he threw it down in the cart.

He stretched his spine, feeling pops of joints as he dawdled.

“Time’s up!”

Leaning tiredly against the handle of the cart, Choi Jung Soo muttered his relief.

He followed the train of departing workers, among them a moderately tall fellow who waved at him and dug a punch into his arm, to the exit.

The chill of the air outside the furnace swept over his skin, killing the embers - or at least soothing them - which had gathered there through the course of the day.

He rubbed his neck, stretched his elbows and knees.

If he continued in this vein he’d have lung disease before thirty, arthritis by age forty-five.

Arguably that could be sooner - but his sires had always had a lucky streak, so he was betting on it kicking in for him too.

“No supper?”

Chasnik appeared mildly concerned when Choi Jung Soo bid him goodbye, turning toward the path that would bring him home.

“Not unless a magic crane suddenly deposits me a dime,” Choi Jung Soo said easily. He clapped his hand on Chasnik’s shoulder, pushing him away. “Go. Get fed. We have more work to do tomorrow.”

“Yes -“ Chasnik hooked a hand over Choi Jung Soo’s before he could pull it back. “- and as I recall we need calories in order to make that through. Come along.”

“I’m fine.”

“Come,” Chasnik insisted and Choi Jung Soo did, eventually, cave.

tbc

- Cale Henituse as one of the ruling class’ children

- Cale Henituse leading the rebellion against the corrupt king who secretly made a deal with the devil

- ^clandestine meetings, organized crime, Alberu Crossman as the pronounced “dead, murdered as an infant by a defected traitor” son of the corrupt king biding his time

- CJS joining the rebellion after a betrayal

- CJS spearheading the movement with sponsorship in the faceless form of KRS

- eventual romance, intrigue, political cutthroat

- aka 80K+ word long fic that I may never actually write but it lives in my head anyway ahahahaha ✌️