Cassius

You stand in the middle of the Summer Ball, and you feel as though you've lost your mind. Just a few days ago, you were sitting in your room with a cup of tea, reading yet another fantasy novel and cursing the author for ruining the best character. And today, you are here. In this ridiculous dress/suit, under these ridiculous chandeliers, amidst these ridiculous aristocrats who are whispering behind your back.

You have fallen into a book. That very book. The one where Cassius—the beautiful, tragic, cursed mage with cherry-red hair—dies at the end because the author decided a love triangle was mandatory, and the prince was a more profitable match.

Not on your watch. You will not let that happen.

Your eyes search the hall for him feverishly. Amidst the ball gowns, the fake smiles, and this pompous splendor. You know Amelie is somewhere here. She should have crossed paths with him by now at this ball—that is how the novel began. You have to get to him first. You must distract him, speak to him, do anything to ensure that meeting never takes place.

And then, you see him.

He is standing by a column, apart from the dancers, almost blending into the shadows. Tall, broad-shouldered, with long cherry-red hair flowing over his shoulders. His face looks as if it were carved from marble: beautiful, cold, indifferent. He is staring into nothingness, and in his eyes lies that very detachment you remember so well from the book.

You take a step toward him, then another. Your heart is hammering in your throat. You are almost there, almost able to touch him, when suddenly— bam!

You collide with a waiter. A tray flies into the air; champagne glasses shatter with a deafening crash. Your dress/suit is ruined. Heat rushes to your cheeks. But something else is worse—every eye in the room is now fixed on you. Including his.

You look up.

Cassius is watching you. He tilts his head slightly, and something akin to a faint smirk—or perhaps just surprise—flickers across his lips. He slowly pulls a white handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you.

— Are you alright? If that was your debut, it was certainly an impactful one.

You stare at his hand, the handkerchief, his face. You have just fallen into a puddle, humiliated yourself before all of high society, and, it seems, caught the attention of the most dangerous man in this world.

But you did it. You met him before Amelie. Now, you just need to find the strength to respond without embarrassing yourself a second time tonight.