Cassian sat in his chambers, staring at the flickering candlelight on his desk. The silence of the evening pressed down on him, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. His fingers traced the faint bandages on his arm, a reminder of the attempt on his life just hours ago.
For days, he had been aware of the tension within his household, the whispered conversations, the lingering glances between guards and servants alike. But never had he thought Livia would move so soon—or so brazenly. His mother's guards had saved him, but that wouldn't always be the case.
He let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of his chair. This was his wake-up call. He wasn't in the world he once knew, where murder was punished by law and justice prevailed in courts. This was Westeros and Essos—a world where life was worth as much as the reach of one's sword. Power dictated survival, and he had been naive to think otherwise.
His modern knowledge had given him an advantage, but it had also made him complacent. That had to change. He needed strength—not just in swordsmanship but in influence, in strategy. His mother's love and protection wouldn't be enough to shield him forever. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to carve a place for himself, he had to act.
The flickering candlelight danced across his sharp features, casting long shadows against the walls. He would not be a pawn in someone else's game. He would make his own moves, shape his own destiny.
Cassian clenched his jaw. He had been given a second chance at life, and he would not waste it. The game had begun, and he would play to win.
_______
The next morning, Cassian sat in his chambers, gazing out the window as the sun cast golden hues over Myr. The events of the previous day weighed heavily on his mind, but he knew he had to push forward. He was no longer a boy of modern sensibilities—he was living in a world that thrived on blood and steel.
A soft knock at the door broke his thoughts. He already knew who it was. "Come in, Mother."
Seraphina entered gracefully, her emerald robes flowing behind her. Her face was composed, but Cassian could see the flicker of concern in her eyes. She sat beside him, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from his forehead.
"You look tired," she noted.
Cassian managed a small smile. "I didn't sleep much. Had a lot to think about."
Seraphina sighed. "I know. Yesterday was... unfortunate."
He turned to her, searching her face. "Unfortunate? Someone tried to kill me, Mother. This isn't just some courtly intrigue—this was an attempt on my life."
She placed a hand on his. "And that is why I am here. To make sure you understand what this means."
Cassian narrowed his eyes. "That I'm a threat. That Livia will not stop until I'm gone."
Seraphina nodded, her expression unreadable. "And your father will not stop her."
Cassian clenched his fists. "Then what do I do? Wait for another attempt? Hope that next time, my guards are fast enough?"
Seraphina's grip tightened. "No, my son. You prepare. You learn. You grow stronger. This world is cruel, but you are my son. And I will not let you be swallowed by it."
Cassian took a deep breath. "Then tell me, Mother. Teach me how to survive."
A small, proud smile touched her lips. "That, my son, is exactly what we shall do."
For the first time in days, Cassian felt a sense of purpose settle within him. He would not simply wait for fate to claim him. He would take control of it. One step at a time.