Deviating from the original plot

Chapter ninety-two

"Not as much as she hated me probably," Cassius replied with a faint smirk. "I've tormented her for the longest time, and now I'm practically living under her roof. She still gave me a chance."

"I've already chosen my path," Damien said quietly, his voice hollow.

"Then you know what that means," Cassius said solemnly. "You'll have to suffer for it."

"It doesn't matter," Damien murmured. "I've already avenged my parents' deaths. If my end pleases the one who gave me purpose, then so be it."

Cassius studied him for a moment. "How did they die?"

Damien's gaze hardened. "Why do you care?"

Cassius shrugged lightly. "Because I'm nosy—and because I'd rather understand you than judge you. If there's one thing I've learnt lately, it's that people don't turn cruel without a reason."

"...I was five when it happened," Damien began, voice thin. "We were at supper — warm light, the smell of stew. I remember my father laughing about something, and then bandits came through the gate. My mother shoved me under the table and told me not to make a sound. I watched them kill my parents. They'd been sent by my uncle. Afterward he moved in and took everything. Victoria's father had him arrested for crooked deals, but it wasn't enough for me. I wanted him gone — his whole line gone for what they did to my family.

"I found my master in the capital. He was disguised, blending in with the crowd. He told me he could see what I wanted, that he could give me what I craved most — vengeance. He asked me to serve him if I agreed. I was so young, so furious, I said yes. He made me what I am."

Damien's eyes flicked to Cassius, hollow and hard. "That's it. That's my story."

Cassius sat quietly for a long moment. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "I can't pretend that excuses what you've done, but... Now I understand why you were so easy to turn; I would have probably acted the way you did if it was me."

"Sympathy won't change a thing," Damien spat. "My master's will be done."

Cassius stood and looked at Damien, with a mix of emotions, before sighing and storming out of the shed.

✦ ✦

Over the next few days, Cassius found himself returning to the shed under the cover of dusk. Each time, he brought a vial to ease the punishment curse that bound Damien. The spell had left him frail.

At first, Damien said nothing. He would glare, curse under his breath, or turn his face to the wall whenever Cassius spoke. But Cassius persisted. He came back every night, even if it meant enduring the biting silence or another round of sharp words.

"You're wasting your time," Damien muttered one evening as Cassius dabbed the solution across his forehead. "You really think a few kind gestures will make me switch sides?"

"Maybe," Cassius replied with a casual shrug. "You'll learn soon enough—I'm annoyingly persistent. I don't stop until I get what I want."

"Of course you are," Damien scoffed. "Typical spoilt prince."

"Say whatever you like," Cassius said calmly, not looking up from his work.

Their exchanges always began this way — sharp and defensive, yet never truly final. Still, Cassius began to notice subtle shifts: Damien no longer turned away immediately; sometimes he actually listened before throwing a jab back. And once or twice, Cassius could've sworn he heard a trace of something softer — a falter in Damien's tone before the walls went up again.

On the fourth night, as Cassius went about tending to Damien's wounds like usual, Damien finally broke the silence.

"Why do you even care?" he asked bitterly. "You could've left me to rot, like everyone else wanted."