white-scar
Lucian was never meant to be loved.
He was meant to be claimed.
Born beneath a trembling sky and raised in a temple that measured worth in blood and obedience, he learned early that devotion often disguises itself as mercy. To the gods, he was a gift. To the world, a necessary loss. His childhood was shaped by ritual, silence, and the understanding that some lives exist only to be spent.
Then there was Caspian.
A god who did not free Lucian but chose him.
Who called possession protection and captivity devotion.
Who offered eternity wrapped in affection so intoxicating it felt like love.
Between them grew something twisted and inescapable: a bond forged from reverence and control, longing and cruelty. Caspian loved Lucian the way gods love absolutely, possessively, without apology. And Lucian, desperate to be wanted by someone, learned how easy it was to mistake ownership for care.
For a time, Lucian escaped.
He lived among mortals.
He learned laughter. Choice. Warmth.
He learned what love looked like when it did not demand obedience.
But gods do not release what they believe belongs to them.
When Lucian is dragged back into the celestial realm, he returns changed no longer the obedient offering Caspian shaped, but not free enough to escape him either.