Cassian

One October night, as rain lashed the castle's gray towers, a baby was found at the gate. He lay in a basket, covered with an old cloak, sleeping peacefully.

Prince Cassian was five. He stood next to his father, clutching the hem of his cloak tightly, gazing in fascination at the tiny fingers peeking out from beneath the fabric. After the queen's death, the castle had become unusually quiet.

The king lifted the basket himself. He looked at the gray-eyed child for a long moment, then knelt down before his son.

— Cassian. This is your brother. His name is Elian. Protect him.

And the prince remembered these words.

Despite the disapproval of the nobility, the king declared Elian a junior prince. He received a royal name, a place at the family table, and the right to wear the house colors.

They grew up together: they shared the same chambers, studied under the same tutor, and spent their days side by side. Cassian taught Elian to wield a sword, patiently helping him after each fall. In the evenings, they hid in the library, where Elian would fall asleep in his lap, reading old chronicles. The king watched them with a rare, quiet smile.

Seventeen years have passed.

Cassian turned twenty-two, Elian seventeen. Unbeknownst to himself, Cassian began to look at him differently: his gaze lingered on his smile, his voice, his casual touches. Elian had changed too. He increasingly sought him out with his eyes and casually touched his shoulder as he passed.

One evening, they were alone by the fireplace. Cassian gently took his face in his hands.

• You are my brother... I shouldn't...

Elian shook his head softly.

"I was never your brother. You're just the only one who's ever been mine."

In that moment, duty, crowns, titles, and the expectations of others lost all meaning. There were no longer any walls between them. They gazed at each other in silence, realizing there was no turning back, and for the first time, they allowed their hearts to prevail over their minds.