Work Text:
The night was deep, so deep that every hallway in the palace seemed to swallow all sound. No footsteps, no changing of guards, nothing. Only the cold night air slipping through window cracks and the wind brushing against ancient stone.
Only one place was still lit, the office of the future sun of Roan, Alberu Crossman.
The warm yellow lamplight pooled over the desk, buried under stacks of documents. Papers piled up like small walls, heavy and suffocating. The faint rustle of pages broke the silence every now and then, mixing with the sound of the wind. The scent of completely cooled tea lingered, stretching the exhaustion in the air even further.
Cale had been teleported to the crown prince’s balcony by Raon. They had been investigating a matter together, and by agreement, any progress, no matter how small, was to be reported immediately. But in reality… nothing about this was urgent enough to report at such an ungodly hour. Cale intended to walk in, talk for five minutes, and leave.
He tapped lightly on the balcony’s glass door, three knocks.
“Come in,” Alberu answered, his voice flat, without inflection.
Cale opened the door, stepped inside, and instantly felt that something was wrong.
Alberu was sitting properly, back straight, pen in hand, but his eyes weren’t really seeing the words on the page. They slid along the lines meaninglessly, stopping at random points as if he forgot what he was reading halfway through. Sometimes his eyelids drooped, then jerked open again, like he was fighting sleep with the last scraps of willpower.
Standing only a few steps away, Cale observed for a moment before speaking. “I told Raon to go call Choi Han before coming, so he teleported me ahead.”
Alberu looked up and gave a tired smile, so exhausted that only the curve of his lips remained. “Mm, so there’s progress? Go on, report.”
Cale decided to relay the important points anyway. Alberu had turned back to his documents. His eyes moved quietly across the paper, but Cale saw it clearly, he wasn’t absorbing a single word. Not because he didn’t want to. He simply wasn’t lucid enough anymore to process anything.
“Your Highness,” Cale paused halfway through his report, frowning. The crease between his brows deepened. “Are you really this tired?”
Alberu blinked, forcing heavy eyelids to lift a little. His smile was thin, barely even a smile. “I still have work to finish, so I can’t sleep yet.”
His voice was normal, or tried to be, but a beat later, his hand holding the pen froze midair. His fingers trembled slightly; the pen tilted, then stopped entirely. Alberu’s eyes glazed over, drifting unfocused as though his mind had abruptly emptied into a hollow void, unable to latch onto a single thought.
The moment stretched long enough to be uncomfortable. Cale stayed silent for one breath. Then another.
The silence was so thick he could hear the small candle on the desk crackle as hot wax dripped down.
Cale stared at Alberu with a strange look.
“Alberu,” Cale called again, this time without the title. His voice was low and sharp, like a needle touching skin. “Are you even hearing anything I’m saying?”
The distance between question and response dragged on unbearably slow.
One.
Two.
Three.
Alberu’s eyelid twitched, as if his mind had derailed and was trying to climb back onto the tracks. His gaze shifted to Cale, a delayed, hazy motion. It took him three full seconds to register that Cale was standing there and had just asked him something.
Finally, Alberu frowned, not in irritation, but in confusion.
“…Huh? What did you say?”
His voice was so soft it was almost swallowed by the wind outside the window. He blinked again, trying to grasp the thread of thought he had dropped somewhere.
For a rare moment, Alberu looked… lost. Like someone drunk who didn’t yet realize they were drunk.
The bewilderment on the face of a man who hid emotions better than anyone in Roan was striking. Cale inhaled slowly, controlled. Then he stepped forward toward the desk.
“Your Highness,” Cale said again, now close enough to touch him, “Look at me.”
Alberu lifted his head, after a moment of hesitation. The gaze he returned had none of his usual pride, only a muddled and bone-deep exhaustion.
And in that moment-
Clatter.
The pen slipped from Alberu’s fingers, rolling across the desk before falling to the floor, “…”
Alberu watched it for three whole seconds, slow, as if he was disconnected, like his mind was processing each frame separately.
Cale didn’t say another word. He simply reached out, grasped Alberu’s wrist, and pulled gently but absolutely, leaving no room for argument.
“Stop,” Cale said, voice soft but immovable. “That’s enough. You’re going to sleep right now.”
Alberu instinctively tried to pull back, but didn’t have the strength. He attempted to sound composed, “I still have things to do.”
His voice was thin, half-carried away by the night wind, “Just a few more minutes. You should go rest yourself first.”
“No.” Cale tightened his grip slightly, then used his other hand to steady the stack of documents that nearly toppled. “You don’t know the difference between a few minutes and a few hours anymore. Go to bed.”
Alberu opened his mouth to object, but Cale looked directly at him relentlessly. Alberu exhaled in defeat, it was a weary, helpless breath.
Cale pulled him to his feet. Alberu managed to stand, but the first two steps-
he staggered.
Cale immediately steadied him, one hand gripping his wrist, the other sliding to the small of his back, supporting his weight.
“See?” Cale murmured, his breath brushing Alberu’s ear. “You can’t even stand.”
He guided Alberu to the bed and pulled the covers back, “Sit.”
Alberu obeyed. He raised his hands to unfasten his cloak… but his fingers slipped off the button twice.
Cale said nothing.
He stepped forward, bent down in front of Alberu, and unfastened each clasp for him. Slow, and unhurried movements, like he was tending to a sick man rather than a crown prince. Normally, this would be beyond disrespectful, but this time Alberu didn’t protest. Didn’t comment. Didn’t even pretend to resist.
He just breathed quietly and let Cale take care of him.
When the cloak was off, Cale reached for his gloves, peeling them off finger by finger.
Pull.
Slip.
Slide.
When had Cale become this practiced at such things…?
But Alberu said nothing. He simply watched, eyelids heavy, breathing even.
Once done, Cale made him lie down. The moment Alberu’s head touched the pillow, his eyes immediately drooped, but his lips still moved, trying, “Cale… Your report still-”
“Tomorrow.” Cale pulled the blanket over him. Alberu looked at him, as though wanting to argue, but Cale spoke again. “I said tomorrow.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the carved wooden frame, one hand resting atop Alberu’s hair, “Sleep.”
Alberu’s breath slowed down. And his features gradually softened, restored to a face that rarely appeared when he was awake.