Cassius had never been fond of anything, much less anyone. From the moment he was born, his heart had never beat for another's sake. Affection, attachment, love- these were foreign concepts to him. But if there was one exception, it was his mother.
She had been the only person he cared for, the only one who had mattered. She taught him not just how to survive but how to wield strength. How to command. And most importantly, before seeking to control others, he had first to master himself, his impulses, his emotions, his weaknesses.
Cassius had absorbed this lesson like scripture, holding it close, carving it into his very being.
Self-control was not just a skill; it was a weapon.
To control himself meant to rule over his own desires, his own fury and grief. It meant keeping his emotions locked behind an impenetrable wall, his expressions carefully crafted, his needs buried beneath sheer, unyielding willpower.
