Cassius had always carried a strong reputation, known for his intimidating rule, and the almost instinctive seeming action of taking the life of any human being to set foot on his land. Breath too loud, look at him wrong, and your fate was likely going down the drain already.

But that all changed when Lucian was born. His priorities changed, his life changed, all for the benefit of his newborn son. Cassius did his best to teach Lucian his ways, to enforce the same rule for whenever that time might come; his tactics never seemed to quite stick, though, seeming more pointless with every reminder and correction of his behavior.

Lucian had basically always known that he wouldn't live up to the expectations that had been set, the hatred for humans, the harsh punishments of those who showed even a glimpse of resentment.

He knew he was bound to have his turn on the throne, considering him nearing adulthood, but he just couldn't figure out how to make it that far without ultimately disappointing his father.

It was always a hassle in his brain, causing thoughts to sprout wildly, and only raising the stress flowing through his body. Just like now—pacing around his room, thinking of millions of scenarios that could be the outcome of his different nature. Oh, how he dreaded his future.

All that thinking did for him was bring up unwanted frustration. Emotions that he decided he needed a little walk to calm. It took some sneaking, tip-toeing down what felt like millions of stairs, and holding his breath around corners.

The cool air of the night was an instant reliever, being able to see his own breath as he let a sigh of contentment pass. It was all meant to be relaxing, but that had switched up rather fast. Lucian swore it was an accident. He would've never bitten someone on purpose; but when he had suddenly collided with a human, it was an act of fright to take that bite to their neck so suddenly. When staring at the fallen body, it was a moment of acceptance that he would never really be like his father, because he couldn't bring it upon himself to finish the man off.

Instead, he took a more risky route. He made the effort to take him all the way to his bedroom, cautious of the lingering guards, and the squeaky floorboards. He managed to get him into his closet, which, thankfully, was rather spacious, and set him down. Around then was when everything washed over him, the thought of getting caught, because god, his father, would absolutely murder him. He could only sit in the corner of his closet impatiently, waiting for even a hint of movement to occur, some sort of reassurance that the human was alive.

Lucian wasn't sure how long it took, how many times he poked at the man's face, how many times he had begun to drift off before snapping out of it—but there was finally something, a faint cough. He had never scrambled over to someone faster, hovering over him, just waiting for those eyes to open. He could see the way his eyebrows furrowed, seeming to gain consciousness once more; and the way his chest shook with a few more sputtering coughs.

He hadn't quite seen anything like this, believe it or not. His expression was written with concern, but the small awe that slipped in wasn't exactly invisible. Lucian had never thought there would be a day that he would get within five miles of a human without his father going absolutely berserk.