The next time Lucien opened his eyes, darkness surrounded him.
For a moment, disorientation clouded his thoughts. The chill of the stone floor, the damp air, the metallic scent... it all crept in slowly, pressing against his senses like a suffocating blanket. As clarity returned, so did the weight of his situation.
He was in a cell.
Panic struck first, sharp and suffocating. His breath hitched, heart pounding in his ears. But years of discipline quickly reined it in. He forced himself to breathe... slow, measured.
'Think.'
This wasn't supposed to happen.
If it were just the accusation... that accusation... he would've been under house arrest at worst. After all, the girl was the daughter of a vassal noble family.
His stepmother had even said they'd start working on marrying the two of them off, using the scandal to tighten political ties... It wasn't like it hadn't happened before in fact it was more common in this world than you would expect.
But now… a prison cell? That meant something had changed. Drastically.
These weren't the consequences of a single charge.
He leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling through his nose.
'That bitch finally got me good.'
'I should have been more careful.'
He clenched his jaw. The lunch... of course it was spiked. It didn't take a genius to piece that part together. Everything had been orchestrated.
And he'd walked straight into it.
Just as he began mentally mapping out potential escape routes... political allies, legal loopholes, anyone with enough influence to pull strings... the heavy door creaked open.
Light spilled into the cell, blinding after the oppressive dark.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Footsteps echoed across the stone floor, deliberate and unhurried.
Lucien tilted his head, still unable to see who it was. The footsteps drew closer. Then, the figure stepped into view, made visible by the light from the corridor.
Lucien chuckled dryly. "Ah, brother Cassian."
The steps halted.
Cassian stood tall, his expression unreadable, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Lucien," he said, voice smooth as ever, but colder than stone. "How unfortunate to see you in such a state."
Lucien scoffed, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Oh, drop the act. You're not here to check on me... you're here to gloat."
He leaned forward, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion. "I mean, what else is a waste like you good for?"
"Lucien," Cassian said, voice smooth and slow. "You look like a dog that's been beaten too long. Quite fitting I have to say."
Lucien smirked faintly. "Looks like I was right you are indeed here to gloat."
Cassian chuckled. "Oh, I'm not here to gloat. I'm here to speak plainly. I want you to understand why this happened. Why you're here... and why I'm finally free of you."
Lucien raised a brow.
"I hate you brother. I really do." Cassian began.
"Oh tell me something I don't know." Lucien said rolling his eyes.
"Oh I will." Cassian stepped closer, grabbing the bar with both hands. "You were always the talented one. The natural. Everything came to you like the world itself bent in your favour. You never even noticed how hard I had to work just to breathe in the same room as you."
"Oh boy, cry me a river," Lucien as he looked.
"Oh, this isn't a cry for pity," Cassian said, his voice tightening. "This is simply the truth so I can free myself from you."
He pulled himself even closer to the bar, his shadow falling over Lucien.
"Because, dear brother… everything you had was meant to be mine. Your fiancée... the princess. Your status, your future. You had everything while I was given scraps. You had the princess while I was being arranged to marry that fool, Elara. But now that you've disgraced yourself with her, well… I suppose I should thank you. There's no way the king would give his daughter to a criminal like you now."
Lucien simply watched as Cassian as he laid out his mind but he said nothing.
Cassian's voice grew sharper. "Even the subordinates... our family's knights, advisors, retainers... they began whispering your name. They saw your strength, your rise, your relentless drive. They started casting their loyalty to you without a word... without even taking me into consideration. Do you know what that does to someone who's fought for every inch of recognition his entire life?"
Lucien looked up. "It wasn't my fault that I was born better."
"Says the bastard without the family trait." Cassian said as he looked closely at Lucien expecting a reaction. Something. Anything. But nothing changed that blank stare remained on his face.
'Is that pity?' Cassian asked himself as stared at Lucien; He was going to rage but he managed to catch himself just in time.
"No, it was not your fault" Cassian growled. "It was mine... for not removing you sooner."
He leaned in, his tone dropping to a hiss. "Even though he disliked… no, no, he hated you, Father always saw you as the perfect son, the rightful heir because of the custom even though your mother was low-born and mine is a noble by birth. I was nothing but a burden to him... a sickly shadow in your light. Every time he looked at me, I saw it. Disappointment. Comparison. But with you disgraced… with you in chains… the path is finally clear for me to take what should've been mine all along. With you no longer here nobody will compare me to you and once I awaken in a few weeks I will be the new heir."
Lucien stared at him and just chuckled slowly. "You'll never be what I was and the thing is you will always know deep down in your little mind that I was and always will be better than you."
A long pause followed, and Lucien could see the gears moving in Cassian's head but the angry lash out he was expecting didn't come.
"This was never about who was better, Lucien. It was about power. And unlike you, I had the sense to seize it."
As he turned, footsteps echoing again, Lucien whispered, "And one day, Cassian… you'll choke on it."
Cassian paused, glancing back with a cold smile. "Only if you live long enough to see it."
"From now on, you are nothing. And you will always remain like that. Whatever you have, it will all be mine."
CREAK!
And with that, he disappeared into the corridor... leaving Lucien in darkness, surrounded by stone, and seething with the kind of rage that could burn empires.
As the door was closed, the darkness returned once again.
***
{Several days later}
The cell door finally creaked open. Blinding light pierced the darkness, forcing him to squint and shield his eyes with his shackled hands.
"Get up," a gruff voice barked.
Lucien tried to rise, every joint and muscle protesting. The light was harsh, cruel, and as his vision adjusted, he saw a broad silhouette in the doorway... a guard.
"Wha…" His voice cracked, hoarse from disuse.
"Your trial is today," the guard replied curtly, then stepped aside.
Another figure entered the cell.
Lucien blinked, trying to make out the face.
There was something familiar in the way the man carried himself... refined posture, the weight of command, cold precision in each step. The closer he got, the more the image sharpened in Lucien's mind.
He knew that face.
The guard confirmed it. "Sir Alistair came here to take you out."
Alistair Balmore.
The head butler of the Balmore family.
For a brief, flickering moment, hope surged in Lucien's chest. He opened his mouth...
WHOOSH.
A sudden burst of flame erupted inches from his face, searing the air and halting the words on his tongue.
"Argh...!" He stumbled back, heart pounding, vision swimming with afterimages.
"Do not ever try to speak," came Alistair's voice was cold and venom-laced.
Lucien looked up. Alistair's eyes met his with nothing but disdain. They were sharp, calculating, utterly devoid of warmth. There was no recognition in them. Only contempt.
Lucien's lips parted again but the fire was still dangerously close. He said nothing.
"Silence," Alistair hissed. "After all the things you've done… You have no right to speak."
The hope that had flared inside Lucien just moments ago died just as quickly... snuffed out like a candle in a storm.
He stayed quiet.
"Take him," Alistair commanded.
TAK! TAK! TAK!
The sound of armoured boots echoed through the stone chamber. Several knights entered, their armour catching the light.
Knights who once bowed in his presence now moved with impersonal precision, grabbing him roughly by the arms.
"Is that necessary?" he muttered. "I can walk on my own."
Another flare of fire burst dangerously close to his face, nearly scorching the skin near his mouth. Lucien recoiled. The heat was unbearable.
Alistair didn't blink.
Lucien averted his eyes, the message clear. Mercy was not on offer here.
He shut his mouth. 'I guess that confirms things,'
But he wasn't going to let that be the end of it… he wasn't going to take the humiliation lying down.
Never.
But this wasn't time to talk.
Not now. Not here. I'll have to wait.
"Move."
The knights dragged him forward. Their grips were iron-tight. His legs struggled to match their pace, his body still trembling with weakness of been starved and unable to use mana for days.
The cell door slammed shut behind them with a final creak.
The corridor outside was narrow, dimly lit. Eventually, they reached a grander hallway, filled with voices and judgmental stares. Whispers. Accusations. Silent verdicts.
He could feel them all.
The knights led him into a massive hall that he recognised as the main hall.