Chapter Text
He looks at her, and he sees himself in her eyes. Frozen, cracking, breaking. Fierce, angry. Dangerous. She’s dangerous–
–and so is he. They’re the same, terrible as it is to admit. The same– brought up on paths as different as could possibly be, but the same awful power burns under her skin and his own. He’s felt it in the shift of her hand over his, handing him a bowl or bread at dinner; Kassandra carries lightning in her veins, just as he does, and he wonders sometimes, looking at the way her gaze darkens over the open horizon, if she’s noticed it yet.
Others have. Myrrine, for one, though she says nothing of it. The secrets of Kassandra’s parentage will be revealed in time, it seems.
He waits.
Five months after they’re brought together again, Kassandra leaves Lakonia to follow the siren-song of war. One month later, he hears word of a Spartan mercenary who shook a hurricane from the skies, killing hundreds with an onslaught of lightning and ice-cold hail.
Kassandra returns, and he looks at her and thinks that if she didn’t know then, she does now– Myrrine and her secrets be damned.