Cassius and Atlas held each other's gaze for several long, unblinking seconds, as though each man were staring into a distorted reflection of himself. Finally, Cassius let out a low chuckle, tilting his head back against the chair and fixing his crimson eyes on the vaulted ceiling above.
"Once upon a time," he began with a smirk, his voice edged in mockery, "they whispered that I would never be King. They doubted, plotted, laughed at the thought of me upon the throne. How foolish their doubts proved to be. I showed them, every last one of them, that this kingdom bends to my will. It is mine. The crown rests in my palm, and those who stood above me now grovel at my feet."
Atlas's lips curved into a knowing smile, memories of his own rise flickering behind his eyes. He had once stood where Cassius stood now, victorious, yet hollow.
