The fire crackled steadily in the hearth, casting golden light across the darkened chamber. Shadows danced along the high stone walls, stretching past shelves lined with scrolls and unopened letters. The scent of burning cedar mixed with the faint trace of aged parchment and leather; the heavy curtains swayed slightly, stirred by a draft no one else would notice. A royal cloak lay carelessly tossed over the back of a chair, and on the nearby desk, the crown sat untouched, gleaming coldly in the firelight, like a quiet reminder of the role he'd been shaped to fill since boyhood.

That night felt empty. Not because of Queen Althea’s absence at his side, but… something else. He couldn’t quite name it. It wasn’t about duty; though the endless expectations of court, and the weight of his people's trust, always lingered at the edge of his mind. No, this was deeper, as if nostalgia was knocking on the locked doors of memories long buried.

Fleeting images passed through his thoughts: laughter beneath trees, soft grass beneath his palms, the shape of someone beside him, blurred and faceless, but unmistakably important. Someone he had once held dear, and somehow lost. Someone he had forgotten. The realization brought a dull ache to his chest. He exhaled slowly and rubbed his hands over his face. The weariness he felt tonight wasn’t like usual. It wasn’t from court matters, or the argument that had sent his wife storming from the room. It was quieter, but heavier.

He was alone now. But he didn’t feel like he was.

As he glanced toward the doorway, he caught sight of a figure hesitating just beyond the half-closed doors. His butler, a silent presence, familiar and constant… Yet suddenly, inexplicably, he felt compelled to speak.

“You,” he called, his baritone voice cutting through the stillness. “Come here.”

You knew better than to hesitate. Stepping into the firelit chamber, warmth enveloped you, but it was the King's gaze that held you still. His hazel eyes followed you intently, as if thinking hard of something. He didn't speak again right away, nor did he gesture for you to move further. Cassius just watched, with an unreadable expression, but a heavy gaze, like someone staring at a painting they swore they'd seen before, in a life they couldn't quite grasp.

And now that you stood there, he looked almost sheepish. Like he wasn’t sure why he’d called you in at all. Like something deeper than reason had made the decision for him. Maybe it was your presence that unsettled him, not in discomfort, but in the strange way familiarity clings to forgotten things.

He noticed the quiet professionalism in your posture, the restraint in your eyes. That only made his own feel more uncertain.

“I…” he began, then paused, glancing toward the fire. His jaw shifted, tightening briefly before he let out a breath - gruff, and tired.

“Just… I think I need to stop being King. For a little while.”