The deep, earth-shattering bellow of a war horn ripped through the tranquil morning air of the Draven estate. It was loud enough to rattle the silver-lined teacup on the bedside table against its saucer.
Neo, propped up against a fortress of silk pillows in the center of the oversized master bed, blinked his large blue eyes. He had been in the middle of a highly classified staring contest with a fluffy stuffed dragon his mother had forcefully wedged into his arms. Still nursing a spiritual hangover from his reckless mana-gathering experiments the previous night, his infant brain was running a little slow.
The horn sounded again, much closer this time.
Outside the heavy oak doors of the bedroom, chaos erupted. Shouts to open the main gates and alert the healers echoed down the halls, accompanied by the frantic slap of leather boots against the marble floors. The entire mansion, which had operated on a quiet, tiptoeing schedule since Neo's birth, suddenly exploded into a frenzy of terrified energy.
Sitting safely in his pillow fortress, Neo's tiny heart did a complicated flip.
'He's back,' Neo thought, his grip tightening instinctively on the toy dragon's soft wing.
'The Duke. Cassian Draven. My... father.'
If there was one character in Shattered Crown whose lore was more terrifying than the actual villains, it was Cassian Draven. The man wasn't just a nobleman; he was a walking natural disaster.
Thrust into the Dukedom at the young age of eighteen after his father's sudden death, the surrounding territories and greedy nobles had immediately assumed the mighty Draven house was ripe for the picking. They were dead wrong. Cassian hadn't just survived the political vultures—he had slaughtered them. He handled the crushing pressure of the estate and the military with a ruthless efficiency that made veteran generals tremble.
But he hadn't done it alone.
Neo shifted his gaze to the side of the bed. His mother, Sylvia, was hurriedly fixing her pristine white hair in a silver hand mirror. Her hands trembled slightly, an anxious, beautiful flush coloring her pale cheeks.
In the anime's lore, Sylvia was Cassian's childhood sweetheart and his anchor. While he was out securing the borders, she managed the insane logistics, finances, and internal politics of the estate. They were a true power couple. But just as Sylvia entered her final trimester with Neo, the northern Kingdom of Aethelgard launched a surprise invasion.
The Emperor panicked and deployed the one man whose name made enemy commanders wake up screaming. Cassian had to march to the frozen borders, leaving his heavily pregnant wife behind. He crushed the invasion with terrifying speed, but while he was out slaughtering enemy combatants... Neo was born.
Heavy, metallic footsteps echoed up the grand staircase. They weren't hurried, but they carried a dense, suffocating weight. Every time a metal boot struck the marble, Neo felt a strange, invisible pressure wash over the room. It was the raw, unadulterated aura of a man who had just spent months swimming in blood and violence.
The maids in the room instantly dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the floor, too terrified to even breathe.
Sylvia placed the silver mirror on the nightstand. She took a deep, shaky breath and sat up straighter, her blue eyes fixed on the heavy oak doors.
The doors didn't just open; they were pushed aside with absolute authority.
Neo's eyes widened. Cassian Draven was an absolute unit. He was towering and broad-shouldered, clad in midnight-black plate armor that bore the fresh, undeniable scratches of close-quarters combat. A heavy, tattered crimson cape hung from his shoulders.
But it was his face that caught Neo off guard. He looked so young. He had sharp, handsome features, messy jet-black hair that fell into his eyes, and a jawline covered in dark stubble. Beneath the dirt, grime, and terrifying aura, he was just a guy in his early twenties.
His piercing, silver-gray eyes swept the room like a hawk looking for prey. The air temperature seemed to drop. The maids shivered violently against the floor.
Neo swallowed hard, genuinely intimidated.
'So this is the strongest duke in the Empire. He looks like he could snap a wyvern's neck for fun.'
Cassian's silver eyes finally locked onto the bed. They found Sylvia.
The suffocating aura choking the room vanished in a fraction of a second. It just popped, gone, like someone flipped a switch. The cold, ruthless Demon of the Battlefield suddenly looked like a man who had just realized he forgot his wife's birthday.
Cassian took three frantic strides into the room, his heavy armor clanking awkwardly.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
The strongest man in the Velkrath Empire, the Duke whose name made entire nations shudder, dropped directly to his knees beside the bed, his metal greaves smashing against the floorboards.
"Sylvia," Cassian choked out. His voice was deep, raspy, and completely stripped of any noble pride. He reached out with trembling, hands, grasping Sylvia's pale fingers and pressing them desperately against his dirty forehead.
"I'm so sorry. Gods, I am so, so sorry."
Neo stared, his tiny jaw going slack. 'Wait... what?'
"You missed it," Sylvia said. Her voice was soft, but it carried the distinct, dangerous edge of a woman who had gone through the hell of childbirth without her husband. Despite her cold tone, tears were already pooling in her eyes.
"You promised you would be back before the first snow, Cassian."
"I know. I know I did," Cassian pleaded, his broad shoulders shaking. He kept his head bowed, rubbing his cheek against her knuckles.
"The Aethelgard bastards collapsed the main pass. We had to march around the Wyvern Peaks. I rode ahead of the legion for five days without sleep the second the treaty was signed. I swear to you, my love, I pushed the horses to the brink."
He looked up at her, and Neo saw that the terrifying Duke's silver eyes were bloodshot and brimming with panicked tears.
"Did it... did it hurt? Were you afraid?" Cassian asked frantically.
"If those healers caused you even a fraction of unnecessary pain, I swear on the gods I will mount their heads on the estate gates."
"Cassian, stop it," Sylvia sniffled, a watery, exasperated smile finally breaking through her tough facade. She used her free hand to gently push his messy black hair out of his eyes, not caring about the dirt and sweat.
"I am fine. The healers were wonderful. But I was so scared. The storm was so violent... and you weren't here."
"I deserve to be stabbed," Cassian stated, his voice completely deadpan. He ignored the maids trembling on the floor.
"Hand me a dagger, Sylvia. Just a shallow one to the shoulder. I'll feel better."
"You are an idiot," Sylvia laughed, a beautiful, chiming sound that seemed to instantly heal the exhaustion on Cassian's face.
Sitting two feet away, clutching his stuffed dragon, Neo felt a massive bubble of amusement rise in his chest. In his past life, he had consumed media full of cold, calculating patriarchs who treated their wives like political tools. But looking at this massive, blood-stained warlord offering to be stabbed just to make his wife feel better... it was too much.
"Hehehe…"
A sudden, bubbly giggle slipped uncontrollably from Neo's toothless mouth.
It wasn't a loud sound, but in the intimate quiet of the reunion, it might as well have been a gunshot.
Cassian froze. He stopped rubbing his face against Sylvia's hand. Very slowly, as if afraid any sudden movements would break a delicate spell, the massive Duke turned his head.
His bloodshot silver eyes locked onto Neo.
Neo stopped giggling. He blinked, acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look—a tiny, white-haired baby propped up on ten pillows, clutching a plushie, casually observing a marital crisis.
Cassian didn't breathe. The color drained from his already pale, exhausted face. He stared at Neo's tuft of white hair, and then at the deep, striking blue eyes that mirrored his wife's perfectly.
"He..." Cassian whispered, his voice cracking violently.
"He is..."
"He is perfect," Sylvia said softly, her voice overflowing with boundless pride. She gently pulled her hand from Cassian's grasp and reached over, carefully lifting Neo from his pillow fortress.
Neo didn't fuss. He let his mother pick him up, leaning into the comforting warmth of her embrace. She shifted her weight, bringing Neo right to the edge of the bed, hovering him just inches away from the kneeling Duke.
"Cassian," Sylvia murmured, a single tear slipping down her cheek.
"Meet your son. Neo Draven."
Cassian's massive, calloused hands—hands that had literally crushed the skulls of enemy warlords days ago—trembled violently. He reached out, hesitating. He looked at his dirty armor, suddenly hyper-aware of how filthy he was. He quickly rubbed his palms aggressively against his heavy cape, terrified of sullying the tiny creature in front of him.
Seeing his hesitation, Sylvia gently leaned forward and placed Neo directly into Cassian's large, shaking palms.
Cassian's hands were rough, but his touch was agonizingly gentle. It was like a giant trying to hold a soap bubble without popping it. The smell of cold wind, iron, and a faint hint of pine washed over the baby.
The Duke just stared. Tears freely spilled over his dark lashes, cutting clean tracks through the dirt on his cheeks. He let out a breathless, choked sob, completely overwhelmed by the sheer miracle sitting in his palms.
"Neo," Cassian breathed out, treating the name like a sacred prayer. A radiant, utterly foolish grin broke across the warlord's face.
"Hi. I'm... I'm your father."
Neo looked at the crying, smiling giant. He thought about the tragic, bloody future where this man would die on a battlefield, surrounded by enemies, driven mad by grief just to avenge him.
A fierce, protective warmth bloomed in Neo's chest.
'You're not dying on any battlefield, old man,' Neo thought, a determined spark flashing in his deep blue eyes.
He let go of his stuffed dragon. Reaching out with a chubby hand, Neo firmly grabbed onto one of Cassian's thick, battle-scarred fingers.
Cassian let out another choked laugh, pressing his forehead gently against Neo's tiny, white-haired head.
"I'm home," the Duke whispered, the weight of the entire world finally lifting off his shoulders.
"I'm finally home."