#cassander

Martyrdom?

I’m admittedly a credulous reader, in the sense that I take text at face–value, rather than suspect it might be disingenuous or outright deceitful. So, when Cassius ‘died’ in Iron Gold, I am one of the approximately ten people worldwide that believed it, lol. Naturally, I was upset—more shocked by the abruptness and unceremoniousness of it, to be honest, than anything else.

It wasn’t until later when I was discussing Iron Gold with a friend who insisted otherwise—that he simply must be alive—that I started considering the possibility. And the longer that we talked about it, the more obvious it seemed that martyrdom did not make sense as a conclusion to Cassius’ arc. 

In Morning Star, it’s explicitly stated that Cassius is someone who would’ve loved to die for his family or his Color or his Sovereign or… anything of substance, really. There’s an extent to which this was always true of his character, because he’s been sacrificially dutiful where his family are concerned and self–destructive from the start, but…

The several sharp reversals of fortune and outright torment inflicted by Golden Son left him traumatized beyond (what he understandably believes to be) the point of recovery, suffocating in a more–or–less perpetual state of grief and mortification that only liquor can dull, devoid of purpose and any perceivable aspiration except for relief from his anguish.

He’s surrendered wholly to his despair, trapped in a relatively joyless and aimless existence, wanting nothing more than to join the rest of his family in oblivion—because the task of properly grieving them, much less evolving beyond them and finding a new raison d’être, is too daunting to even contemplate.

But if Cassius was willing to kill himself, he could’ve just slit his wrists in Golden Son or even Red Rising and been done with it. There’s the general Gold stigma against suicide to consider, but more relevantly, he feels that he needs purification first. And that’s why he craves a noble and meaningful death with the potential to ‘redeem’ him, as much for his failure to lead a noble and meaningful life as his failure to protect his family. 

It’s his last chance, too, of achieving the apotheosis that he alternatively devoted himself to attaining and loathed himself for failing to attain; the actualization of Tiberius’ idealized version of himself, the ‘perfect’ son that was worthy of his father’s love, who would receive the validation hitherto withheld from the ‘imperfect’ son. It’s the state that he grazed in Golden Son and later recounted to Lysander as the highlight of his life in Iron Gold.

He’s (perhaps) no longer as brazenly self–destructive as he was in his Golden Son era, but he’s actively suicidal now, determined for his death to possess the purpose—and honor—he never found in life.

(I talk more about Cassius’ penchant for self–destruction and the direction of his arc, more generally, here.)

But Pierce denied him that. Instead of achieving that easy absolution, he was forced to live instead—in the most miserable way. Because not only is he being forced to live without purpose, he’s being forced to live without the crutches and comforts—the vices, the attention, the affection, the esteem—that made his life tolerable before… and as persona non grata in virtually every room he enters, facing constant judgment and scorn. 

For someone who cares as deeply about how he’s perceived as Cassius does, being that ostracized and despised is a nightmare–scenario. Yet it was his reality, from which there was no distraction and no escape. 

As rushed as the end of Morning Star is, this was clearly a deliberate narrative choice. So, too, was the decision to edge Cassius all the way to the precipice of release in Iron Gold… and not let him cum. Did you think you were allowed to die? Silly pet. Back in the chastity cage for you. 

And it was an excellent choice. 

Because Cassius wanted martyrdom. Salivated for it. Dying in a blaze of righteous glory was his fantasy. He came so close that he could taste it. Perhaps his fundamental characteristic is survival against his will, being cursed to live when he’s desperate to die. And that is precisely why it should never have happened. If there’s one thing that the Red Rising Saga goes out of its way to demonstrate, it’s that the gods hate Cassius personally—when have things ever gone his way? Jesus has nothing on him. 

His being Pierce Brown’s punching bag aside, martyrdom is also what the majority of the fandom has wanted—and anticipated—since Morning Star. 

I can’t speak from personal experience, because I didn’t start reading Red Rising until 2016, after Morning Star was already released, and I read the entire trilogy in the span of a week; there was no suspense or time for speculation. But older fans have mentioned to me that before Morning Star, martyrdom was what people sympathetic to Cassius hoped Pierce Brown would write; he’d sacrifice himself for Darrow or Mustang in one noble act that wouldn’t redeem him, of course, but would end his arc on a positive note. 

In other words, the general consensus was that Cassius was beyond forgiveness or reconciliation—which makes sense, given how Golden Son ends. But that’s indicative of, at best, superficial understanding of his character and, at worst, hope that he would essentially be discarded and fully subordinated to another; that is, you wanted Cassius to turn because it would benefit Darrow and couldn’t give less of a shit about Cassius beyond his utility to your fave. 

Which isn’t a crime, of course, but don’t pretend otherwise.

Now, I do think there’s something to be said about killing a formerly self–destructive/suicidal character that just decided they wanted to live. Naturally, it’s a beloathed trope, but it can work in the correct genre. I don’t think Light Bringer or the Red Rising Saga generally is the correct genre, as it lacks the requisite tragic undertones, but if Lysander had properly murdered Cassius (shot him without warning, shot him in the back, or otherwise removed the element of choice from the scenario)... well, it still would’ve been a terrible narrative choice, imo, but not necessarily a betrayal of Cassius’ characterization or an objectively poor way of ending his arc. 

There’s a certain character in Showtime’s Yellowjackets (I won’t say which, so as not to spoil anyone that might care) who resembles Cassius (as far as self–destructiveness, substance abuse, despair for purpose, and suffering more than Jesus goes) and dies shortly after finding her will to live. While her death was received controversially by the fandom and she was definitely shafted by the writers in other ways, it does make sense from a narrative perspective for her to die like that, because Yellowjackets is fundamentally tragic and every character of substance is doomed by the narrative.

So… of course she died the moment that she started to actually live. It sucks, but that’s what we (the viewers) signed up for.

Even if Red Rising was that type of series, and it’s not, Cassius’ death being deliberately framed as ‘his choice’ and plainly avoidable in the text (subtextually, you could argue it wasn’t; that Lysander was never going to allow him to leave, etc) distorts what should be (and was intended to be) seen as a tragedy into a statement about Cassius’ stagnation.

Because… when you write a character with clear suicidal tendencies, substance abuse, and depression, their growth is necessarily going to be measured by if and how they overcome that. 

And that’s why I resent how much emphasis on Cassius’ ‘redemption arc,’ mostly by fans for selfish reasons (because it benefits their fave or because they feel uncomfortable stanning an antagonist), when that was never his fundamental conflict, itself a sentiment that Light Bringer does immeasurable damage to his characterization (distorting the way he’s perceived, both in–world and by the fandom) in suggesting so heavily.

Because there isn’t one scene in Red Rising through Iron Gold where Cassius expresses regret over an action he’s committed on the basis of morality; at best, he might regret the necessity or resent the consequence, especially when it impacts an interpersonal relationship, but there’s no remorse to be found.

Even in Cassius’ long speech in Iron Gold about redeeming himself after the Gala in his father’s eyes, for example, his shame and regret over his choices—his lifestyle as much as the events that lead to the massacre—comes from disappointing Tiberius; it’s not an acknowledgment of fault. 

And I’ll remind you that just a few chapters before this speech, he had no scruples whatsoever about participating in a nonconsensual foursome with Aurae—yes, his beloved Aurae—some unnamed male Pink, and his little–brother–in–bond, Lysander, to maintain their cover.

He’s just not a principled person by nature and he’ll literally tell you that, to your face, even in Light Bringer. His ‘chivalry’ is a façade that’s easy to dismantle if you look, even shallowly, at the context, which is why it always surprises me when readers… don’t? But Cassius’ desire to ‘be honorable’ has always been a smokescreen for his pathological need to be admired and loved—and never more than after the death of the relatives who were the only people that might’ve loved him unconditionally. 

(It’s hard to say who they might’ve been in the canon, aside from Julian; in Alis Aquilae, it would be Ariadne, Valerius, Karnus, Killian, Selwyn, and Livia. But without those steadfast sources of external validation, he became wholly dependent on the conditional love conferred by fame.)

Mind, I’m not saying that Cassius shouldn’t have turned to the Rising or that his arc shouldn’t have had any redemptive elements. His attitude toward Pinks, for example, is something that needed to be addressed and reformed. But Morning Star makes it clear that his motivation behind helping Darrow and Co. is: A) to avenge his family slaughtered at Eagle Rest by the Jackal with Octavia’s consent, B) to honor Julian’s memory, and C) for Darrow. 

(The last one is subtext, but there’s a line where Aja asks Mustang about how she could ever ‘choose’ Darrow over her people and she replies ‘easily;’ Cassius is standing right beside her, in between Darrow and Aja, and the implication is that he agrees.)

I know people gush over Cassius’ humbly–penitent and redemptive moments in Light Bringer and... to each their own, ig. But the sentiment that Morning Star conveys—that Cassius’ conversion to the Rising was similar to Daxo’s, insincere and born of surpassing love and loyalty—is way more compelling and complex, imo. Every day, I mourn the loss of Cassius’ moral grayness and self–absorption. It was so incredibly sexy of him. 

And I don’t think his arc was ever supposed to center around morality, which is why Light Bringer was such a perplexing read for me, although I couldn’t have said why at the time. Because it’s so painfully about mental health to my eyes: about addiction (to thrills and distractions as much as substances) and maladjustment, self–destruction, the attrition of grief and stagnation inherent to trauma, instability, insecurity and codependency, cycles of abuse, being burdensome to love, etc. 

Cassius’ crisis was never about whether he was a ‘good person’ or whatever the fuck that even means; rather, it was a consequence of the narrative raining blow upon blow and he never learned how to recover—and it started with Julian. 

This is the single most important thing to know about him and if you take nothing else away from this long ask, take this: he never healed from Julian and has only seen himself as half alive—in the sense that he considered Julian the other ‘half of his soul’ without which he’s forever incomplete—since his death. 

Now, regardless of how our mileage as a fandom varies, we can probably all agree that a character’s arc should not end where it began. And Cassius’ arc began with him wanting to die; the fundamental way in which his arc progresses is the gradual intensification of that desire and his other desires being whittled away until only that one remains.

So… it should’ve ended with him choosing to live. 

To no longer dread the possibility that he might survive and stop intentionally imperiling himself; to think optimistically and constructively about his future; to understand that the only way he can honor his family is by preserving their memory and safeguarding their legacy. It should’ve involved catharsis and confrontation (not of the garden–variety evils that are far from unique to his character and unfairly blown out of proportion throughout Light Bringer, but of the weight he’s been carrying and the maladjusted ways he’s been coping) and harm–reduction and stability. 

Whether or not he dies after he reaches these realizations isn’t as relevant as I’d like (although, optimally, I do think that he should’ve returned home to restore Olympia and reestablish his House) but he needed to reach them. Before he could even contemplate ‘living for more’ or what that would look like, he needed to reach the point where he wanted to live. It’s a prerequisite.

And no—just because he reconciled with Darrow does not mean he found a will to live. That line everybody plays for laughs about the rest of their lives being an awfully long commitment? Cassius was not being sarcastic here—and he doesn’t laugh with Darrow. Because Darrow could easily live for another sixty years and that’s not a commitment he’s prepared to make; he’s hoping to be dead long before then. And brother is a title he’s just ‘trying on,’ remember? He’s not buying it. 

Not only is martyrdom narratively unsatisfying as a conclusion to Cassius’ arc, it renders his resurrection in Dark Age meaningless. Pierce may as well have just killed him off in Iron Gold. I’m well–aware, of course, of his indispensable utility to the plot of the IGT and especially Dark Age, but if we’re strictly considering the progression of his arc and his emotional interiority… where he ends in Light Bringer is more–or–less where he was at in Iron Gold, if not Morning Star. 

And where Cassius’ general characterization is concerned, Light Bringer actually goes beyond stagnation, into regression, and undermines his growth in Iron Gold for the sake of nostalgia and heightened emotional stakes. More on that later. 

People like to argue about his motivations—whether he rushed Lysander in denial of his failure, believing that either he wouldn’t shoot or wouldn’t be able to live with himself after he did, or in acknowledgment of it, forcing Lysander to face the consequences of his actions or in a sacrificial attempt to put him down, etc—but it doesn’t really matter.

His death is still the equivalent of pouring a bottle of Dom Pérignon down the sink. 

The very last way that you should conclude the arc of a character that’s been self–destructive and aimless, if not actively suicidal, from the start and openly craves martyrdom because it’s a form of instantaneous redemption that allows them to eschew growth and avoid processing their trauma is with… a bombastic suicide. 

And if that wasn’t upsetting enough… 

Lysander, Lysander, Lysander

Unfortunately, Cassius’ death can only be generously called a conclusion to his arc. Because it’s entirely about Lysander. 

Lysander needed to kill Cassius, because Cassius (he’d laugh to know it, given that he doesn’t possess much of one himself) is his conscience, source of the only steadfast and unconditional love that Lysander has ever received, a tether to sanity without which Lysander would’ve otherwise long been consumed by delusion, and his only avenue to redemption. 

As long as Cassius was alive, Lysander was not irredeemable—and he needed to become irredeemable. It’s the logical progression of his arc. 

One of the most frustrating things about Cassius’ death, when you chew on it, is what little impact it has on the plot and the others characters… other than Lysander. Because it’s the burning of Demeter’s Garter that solidifies the alliance between the Republic and the Rim and facilitates peace between the Rim and the Daughters and that would’ve happened whether Cassius lived or died. Pytha, too, would’ve abandoned Lysander as soon as he razed the Garter, Cassius or no. 

Lysander didn’t need to kill Cassius to allege an attempted assassination and use that as his casus belli against the Rim. In fact, it would’ve been more effective if Cassius had escaped and Darrow refused to surrender or disavow him, and it wouldn’t have necessarily forced the Rim into an alliance with the Republic, as surely as his death did. 

And Cassius could’ve easily rationalized leaving without that ‘fucking half–baked and ludicrous MacGuffin whose eleventh–hour introduction ensures that every ounce of moral nuance in this series will be purged in the finale,’ known colloquially as Eidmi, when Lysander gave him the opportunity. More on that later.

Although I’ve heard people speculate that, despite the general indifference of the plot, Cassius could be Darrow’s new casus belli (and I’d love to believe it, as it would make Cassius’ death meaningful and it should go without saying that I’d swoon over Cassius ‘becoming’ Eo), that isn’t the vibe I get. Yes, Darrow is inconsolable when he learns that Cassius is dead and he, along with the rest of the Archi crew, is grieving, but… nothing implies that Cassius’ death is a watershed or ‘Eo’ moment for him. 

Indeed, the core theme of Darrow’s arc in Light Bringer is healing—internal and external forgiveness, acceptance, recovery from loss—and we see Darrow finally ‘letting go’ of several characters that he’d been stifling (Sevro) or mourning (Ragnar), grudges that he’d been holding (against the Society and the Rim), and insecurities he’d been harboring (about his ultimate responsibility for every tragedy that has ever befallen the Rising in the history of everything) for far too long.

His character is evolving beyond rage and grief as a wellspring; he’s gravitating towards faith and hope and love again—and I do mean that in the religious as well as philosophical sense. In the scenes preceding Cassius’ death, he’s just about the furthest thing from despondent and jaded with the revolution as he can be, and in the scenes following Cassius’ death, he’s not deranged or vengeful.

Fact of the matter is: Darrow finds peace and self–actualization in Light Bringer and he doesn’t lose either when he loses Cassius. 

He’s just… sad. Sentimental. Nostalgic. Mourning—and not even in the melodramatic or hysterical ‘here I am, the motherfucking consequence’ way that had my legs wiiiiiide open at the beginning of Dark Age. To be honest, he’s barely sad, not after processing the initial horror, and his monologue doesn’t undergo a drastic shift in mood or tone. As with all his other losses in Light Bringer, he’s more–or–less unaffected, compartmentalizing if not suppressing his grief entirely.

(God, why couldn’t Cassius have died before Darrow read the space–bible? You can’t just compare your character to Achilles and then not have them go fucking berserk when their bestie gets murdered. I need Lysander dragged behind the Lightbringer Morning Star by his ankles, stat.)

But my point is: Cassius dying simply does not matter to Light Bringer’s denouement or Darrow’s development. We’ll have to wait until Red God to see if it impacts the narrative, at all. Lysander killing Cassius, however? That matters. 

And I don’t think Hangar 17B should be viewed in a narrative vacuum; that leads to shallow analysis, obviously. It’s not the first insult to Cassius where Cassander is concerned and retrospectively, it’s not surprising, at all.

I understand that Cassius is only a main character in my heart, but he’s as objectively important as…. say, Victra or Roque or Tactus, supporting characters that pack a huge narrative punch. However—and I’ve lambasted Pierce for this, at length, before—Cassius is never given an autonomous existence, as they are. His arc has always—always—been subordinated to another character, insofar as his main role in the narrative is to influence and impact that character.

And there’s a sense that he exists primarily to further that character’s arc, rather than his own, if he can even be said to possess a consistent one. 

But, as he became more and more prominent in the story, I was increasingly optimistic that each book might finally be The Book where Cassius had an independent arc, even a peripheral one, that actually centered him. And, in every book, it’s been teased. Iron Gold came closest and gave more definition to Cassius’ characterization than any other, but he was still clearly an extension of another character, present to further Lysander’s arc and give dimension to Lysander’s character. And then he fucking died. 

But then… on the third day, he rose again, in fulfillment of the scriptures, to reprise his role as a deus ex machina; he’s always been Pierce’s favorite plot–device.

Was Cassius... breaking out? Finally, overcoming the dependencies and insecurities that shackled him to other characters—to Darrow, to Mustang, to Lysander—and gaining a measure of autonomy? Finally, forging his own path? Was there was a reasonable expectation that Pierce Brown might do the potential complexity of his character justice and give him an actual arc with a satisfying conclusion? And that conclusion was unlikely to be death, because… 

You don’t resurrect one of the most important characters in your series just to kill them again… right? To use them as a plot–device or rage–bait and for shock–value… right? To sacrifice them for exactly the same reason? To just… rinse and repeat their earlier death? Right?

Wrong, apparently. Because, as far as Pierce Brown is concerned, Cassius’ primary utility to the narrative of the IGT—and Light Bringer, especially—is that he’s the sacrificial lamb on the altar of Lysander’s ambitions. And this is why he’s so scarce in Light Bringer, beyond his tried–and–true role as comic relief, imo. 

There’s a reason why we don’t get to see his reconciliation with Sevro or Diomedes or Mustang. His relationship with Aurae is another unrequited dead–end. We still don’t know a fucking thing about his relationship with his mother.

In a seven–hundred page book, we get precisely three glimpses into his interiority, all of which downplay his trauma and contribute heavily to his rampant mischaracterization by the fandom. His high–functioning alcoholism, chronic depression, and self–destructive behaviors are neither explored nor even addressed as issues; they’re only mentioned to be played for laughs. 

His relationships with Darrow and Lyria are criminally underdeveloped and what little interaction we get is more akin to character fattening than development; that is, we’re reminded of how much we should like Cassius and freshly endeared to him, but there’s definitely a sense that he’s just tagging along for the ride rather than meaningfully participating in the plot and… does he discernibly grow in the course of the book?

I suppose that’s a matter of opinion, but it seems like another example of the narrative telling us Cassius has changed rather than showing us that change.

For example, much is made of that scene in Ch. 51 where Cassius altruistically tries to save the lowColor children from the Volk in Sungrave and nearly dies in the attempt before Darrow rescues him. During that episode, Darrow makes several comments that are clearly intended to indicate how much Cassius has changed—that he’s undergone significant edification and become genuinely honorable, of which the aforementioned act is reflective. 

But the fact of the matter is: Cassius has been not only willing but painfully eager to sacrifice himself for strangers, even lowColors, since Iron Gold, if not earlier. He spent ten years, in the Belt with Lysander and Pytha, risking his life to that end, something of which Darrow is well–aware.

There’s precedent as early as Red Rising, for fuck’s sake, where Cassius is the only member of their tribe that’s horrified by Titus’ treatment of their enslaved classmates; he has to be restrained from attempting to free them—something he does eventually attempt, selflessly and sacrificially, risking death and mutilation and possibly enslavement of his own, when they take Quinn.

(Now, his rationale might very well have changed. Perhaps there’s more straightforward morality involved in his reasoning, recognition that these offenses are objectively vile and obligation toward the victims that he didn’t always possess, and there’s certainly more genuine altruism. In I&F, the motivation behind his denouncement of what Titus and Co. are doing is convoluted and deeply personal; it’s a fundamentally self–absorbed fixation that accidentally aligns with decency.

(But, in order to measure that, we’d need access to Cassius’ interiority. Which we are never fucking getting, lol.)

Far from being a milestone in his development, this is classic Cassius behavior. His actions in Sungrave shouldn’t have surprised Darrow half as much as they do, if at all. This scene is only significant if you took Sevro’s slander of Cassius during their cat–fight at face–value and are using those unfounded insults as a touchstone to measure Cassius’ growth, which makes even less sense for us, as readers, to do than it does for Darrow, but apparently that was Pierce’s intention.

And why bother developing Cassius in Light Bringer, right? He’s just waiting in the lobby of the Void, cracking jokes about his jawline and making Lyria blush until Lysander comes for his head. 

What really irks me about this compromise, though—sacrificing a secondary character (Cassius) for the development of a primary character (Lysander)—is that it could fairly be perceived as necessary, were it not for one crucial fact: Lysander already sacrificed Cassius… in Iron Gold. He already (politely, but still) denounced him in Sungrave’s Bleeding Place. He already renounced his principles and betrayed his love, forfeiting ten years of brotherhood—to his face. Genuinely, go back and read Ch. 40.

And he was already (albeit indirectly) responsible for his death. After all, were it not for Lysander defying Cassius to save Seraphina, they never would’ve been captured by the Krypteia or taken to Sungrave. Lysander even implies, in Light Bringer, that (and I am paraphrasing, because I don’t remember where exactly) Cassius is already dead to him, that he wishes Cassius had stayed dead, etc.

And, at the end of Dark Age, doesn’t Cassius sacrifice him, too? He publicly renounces Lysander in favor of Darrow, reaffirming his commitment to the Republic and humiliating Lysander, severely compromising the tenability of his position (at least, he should’ve; it makes no fucking sense whatsoever that everybody in the Remnant is totally chill, dude with Cassius being alive after both Lysander and Diomedes swore he was dead; this information should have potentially crippled their alliance) as leader, betraying Lysander’s love by refusing to stay neutral. 

He flips him the fucking crux. 

(Not literally, but… you know what I mean.)

I’ve criticized Light Bringer before (not publicly, so you’ll have to take my word for it, lol) for how much it retreads ground covered in earlier books, but it’s especially prominent where Cassander is concerned—and never more tragic than here.

Because Pierce had an opportunity to have his cake and eat it, too. He could’ve martyred Cassius in Iron Gold and given him a reconciliation/reparations arc in Light Bringer—or even Red God. But instead of letting Cassander evolve organically by continuing Lysander’s arc from Dark Age and Cassius’ from Iron Gold, instead of exploring the aftermath of their shattered brotherhood and subsequent estrangement, the consequences of their mutual renouncement and denouncement, instead of turning to the next page and next phase of their relationship and given us a proper brothers–to–enemies arc, Pierce Brown decided to…

Butcher the characterizations (and, often, the characters themselves; RIP Ajax au Grimmus) of his villainous pantheon to give Lysander an unnecessary crisis–of–faith that would force him to later double–down on his villainy with an act of unprecedented enormity; grind Cassius down—like a millstone!—into the weakest version of himself and sacrifice him, despite abundant evidence that martyrdom was not an appropriate conclusion to his arc, in order to freshly traumatize readers on the cusp of the finale; and give us a redemption fake–out for Lysander that lasted all of five seconds and yet another Cassander standoff (because… apparently, the first two weren’t good enough) that’s not even an original scene, for fuck’s sake—because what is Cassius’ death but an Alexandar (and Tactus, too, if you squint at the subtext) redux?

Now, if it’s not already crystal–clear, I hate this. There should be equilibrium between the characters and the plot, rather than sacrificing consistent characterization or eschewing character development entirely to achieve your desired end. Because how can you think creatively about your world and do justice to your characters if you’re so dead–set on a specific ending that you write it… twice?! 

Not to say characters acting repetitively and not learning from their mistakes makes them automatically unrealistic or inconsistent, but… that’s a very specific type of character build. Hyper–forgiveness, credulousness, obliviousness… this sounds—and I say this with all the love in the world—way more like Darrow than Cassius. 

How Pierce Brown Fumbled One of His Baddest Bitches

And it’s interesting that Lysander has this almost meta–awareness of the fact that Cassius is not… Cassius anymore? It’s passed off as ‘Cassius changed because he underwent a redemption arc and Lysander rejected the person he had become’ but the truth is that Cassius’ transformation is not… actually justified by the canon? And not just because it’s more told than shown, although I don’t want to deemphasize that. He straight–up became a new person that Lysander didn’t recognize. 

Again, your mileage may vary, but I stand by the fact that he doesn’t really ‘grow’ as a character in Light Bringer. If anything, he’s stagnant, trapped in an idealized version of himself that’s additionally regressive and not reflective of his trauma.

One of the reasons why people love Light Bringer so much is because of how nostalgic it feels, constantly recalling and imitating the original trilogy, and this is never truer than of Cassius’ characterization. Not only does he sound like his Red Rising self, he acts like him, too, and he has an explicit fixation on his younger self that’s reminiscent of people that peaked in high–school. 

Which… is not something that we should be praising Pierce Brown for, y’all. 

And, I’m sorry, but there was no real ‘redemption arc.’ I’ve already admitted that I would’ve preferred him to remain ‘unredeemed’ and just performatively progressive like Daxo or Victra, so I’m biased and inclined to think critically about his sharp turn to penitential altruism in Light Bringer, but it’s just not executed well. 

I know that Light Bringer insists otherwise and this probably sounds like cope on my part but… to be honest, it’s not an inevitable conclusion that Cassius underwent some great moral transformation or even adopted more progressive politics between Iron Gold and Light Bringer. We could just as easily say that his love for Aurae brought him to the (low) level of class–consciousness that he reaches therein and not because she persuaded him in an intellectual sense; given what we know about Cassius, it’s enough that he loves her.

Because Cassius has never been an idealist or a progressive. If Julian hadn’t been too weak to survive in the Society and Octavia hadn’t betrayed his trust, I doubt that he ever would’ve turned. And he’s consistently demonstrated that his moral compass points in the direction of the person he loves most in the world; there’s no line that he wouldn’t cross for that person. He’s never been a knight in the common sense (that he is chivalrous or honorable) but rather in his capacity for limitless service—and in his need for an object of adoration. 

(I discuss his need for an idol here.)

But if we take his ‘redemption arc’ in Light Bringer at face–value, not only does it downplay the reparative work that Cassius has already done for the Rising in Morning Star and Iron Gold and deliberately frame his self–destructive behavior as both positive development and uncharted territory for his character when it’s neither, as I demonstrated in that example above, it has a flimsy justification. 

Cassius idolizing Aurae to the extent that he regards her as the lady (in the chivalric sense) to whom he has sworn service and furthers her cause as an act of fealty is... tolerable.

(Although I think it was a mistake to make their relationship significant at all, to be honest, because it ensured that Cassius’ other relationships would get pushed even further to the periphery of the narrative—and they were already in the mesosphere—to make room for Aurae. It seems like we substituted Casstang for Cassaurae, specifically, which was a terrible narrative decision.

(Also, the fact that he had no apparent compunction about raping her in Iron Gold indicates that he wasn’t nearly ‘redeemed’ enough to see a Pink as his equal, much less respect or love one, and if I was Aurae, you can be damn sure I’d care more about that than his sanctioned and justified execution of a Gold enemy combatant. Guess I’m built different—with a functional memory?)

But the implication that loving Aurae ‘fixed’ Cassius—as in, he spontaneously developed a conscience and magically transformed into Brienne of Tarth—is just… horrible. And some amatonormative horseshit, for sure, that’s shamelessly guilty of suggesting what you mentioned in your ask—that ‘a brother’s love’ wasn’t enough—because…

Cassius needed to fall in love with Aurae to understand the enormity of what he’d done… when Darrow was right fucking there? From the start? Darrow’s undying devotion wasn’t transformative enough to save Cassius… but Aurae’s rejection was?

What year is this. Why is the panacea–pussy trope back.

😩

Really, the only thing that Light Bringer’s ‘redemption arc’ accomplishes is that it effectively whitewashes Cassius, to the extent that he loses some of his most distinguishing characteristics; spitefulness, haughtiness, ruthlessness, hypersensitivity, emotional dysregulation, and entitlement, to name a few. Which was likely the most deliberate aspect of the entire direction. Pierce wanted to make him palatable to readers that never sympathized with him before. 

You’ll come across many fans on any platform, including Tumblr, who will say they never liked Cassius until Light Bringer. Which, to be clear, is expected; no character is going to be everyone’s cup of tea. But Pierce decided to sacrifice the consistency of Cassius’ characterization to finally win these people over. There’s really only one scene where Cassius is allowed to be morally grey and possess his aforementioned flaws—his clusterfuck with Sevro—and even that gets undercut by having no adverse consequences and mischaracterizing him in other ways. 

But if Cassius had acted like that for the majority of the book, his death would not be so widely regarded by the fandom as a tragedy. If he had remained the charismatic and snobbish decadent that he’s been for the last four books, those casuals wouldn’t have shed the tears for him that Pierce Brown wanted. So… he transformed him into an honor–himbo instead, reshaped him in Alexandar’s image—

(Darrow does briefly compare Alexandar to Cassius in Dark Age [or Iron Gold? I’m not sure] but that line always struck me as superficial and misleading. I’m not convinced that Cassius is someone who ever truly wanted to be famous, although he did need external validation and fame eventually became his only source, nor was he ever much preoccupied with morality, beyond his dread of potentially alienating people he loved.) 

—at the cost of… well, to me? Nearly everything that made him interesting. 

And the thing is, Lysander loved the old Cassius, too. Despite their differences and his latent resentment, he enjoyed his company, held him in reasonable esteem, tried his best to please him, lived out his principles to the best of his ability. And while he, of course, had ulterior motives in Sungrave for revealing his identity and opening the safe, he genuinely did want to save Cassius’ life and Cassius’ ‘death’ was as painful for him as it was for us. 

The way that he immediately recognizes the not–Cassius that is LB!Cassius is fascinating to me, because Darrow doesn’t—and can’t. Not only because that would undermine the narrative, but also because he’s too deep in his own idealization of Cassius to see him for the person he really is—and always has been.

So, in Light Bringer, when Pierce finally squeezes the square peg that is Cassius into the round hole that Darrow believes he always fit perfectly inside by shaving down his edges, it seems like natural evolution to Darrow’s eyes. 

But not to Lysander. Delusional as he otherwise may be, he recognized that Cassius was square; he alternatively admired and despised him for it. And he sees this new round!Cassius as the tragic shadow of his former self that he is. He knows that ‘his’ Cassius died in Sungrave… and he puts the new Cassius down like a dog. He all but thinks of it as a mercy–killing. 

I’m not saying that Lysander was vindicated in killing him, of course. No one wishes Cassius had lived more than I do, even in his bastardized state; *gestures to my entire blog.* But it’s clear to me that if Pierce hadn’t thrown the bulk of Cassius’ characterization to the wind throughout Light Bringer and especially in the Lightbringer segment… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. 

There are several examples that could demonstrate this, but there’s one that’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer and not even subtext you have to squint for, so we’ll go with that. 

“No matter what fate waits beyond those doors, do not acquiesce. If they have their evidence, they have their war. It is our duty, even if it is our last, to prevent that war. To protect the people.” “It’s not our Republic to protect,” I say. “That’s Octavia speaking, not you. Of course it is ours to protect.” “Why? It’s a broken place that betrayed us. The people you want to save are being ground into the dirt. Dido is right: the Reaper has failed.” I pause. “Choices were made,” I say slowly, choosing my words with care so he does not feel assaulted. “Though I may not agree, I understand why you made them. The Sovereign let the Jackal massacre... our family. She was a tyrant. I know that. The Society was corrupt. But look what’s replaced it. The people on that ship—I see them every night and I think what I could have done better. But they didn’t die because I chose to help a Gold first. They died because of Darrow.” I hesitate. “You opened Pandora's box. Now you’ve spent these years trying to justify the choices you made.” I lower my voice. “Guarding the orphan you created. Patrolling the trade lanes you endangered. Maybe this is your chance, our chance, to put things back together. Not by hunting pirates out in the middle of nowhere, but by restoring order.” “You want to give them their evidence. Their war.” “I do.” He steps very close to me so only I can hear. "You open that safe, you’re dead too. You won’t have a chance to fix anything soon as they find out who you really are.” “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” “Stop thinking with your cock. Seraphina doesn’t give half a shit about you. She’s bait that Dido is dangling like a piece of meat.”  I snort. “It’s not about her, Cassius.” “No, it’s about revenge, isn’t it? Your revenge.” “You took yours,” I say quietly. I watched him stand over my grandmother as she bled to death. I watched him kill Aja, the woman who was like a mother to me. “You don’t sleep. You drink. You preach and hunt pirates. We’ve never been in one place longer than a month. You think that is because you’re protecting me? You think it’s because you have a sacred duty to save merchants who chose to risk the Belt to line their own pockets? Stop lying to yourself for one gorydamn moment and admit that you made a mistake! You let the wolves through the door. Being a ‘good man’ won’t fix what you’ve done. Neither will suspending yourself in a state of constant motion. There is no atonement except killing the wolves, shutting the door, and reestablishing order. That is how we make things better than they are now. It’s how we can fix the worlds.” Even though I know the intransigence of my friend, I hold out some boyish hope that my words will arouse some sense inside him. Instead, inexorably, his eyes harden, our world darkens, and I know our fellowship has ended. “I had you for ten years. She’s had you for a breath. Is her spell is [sic] so complete?” I feel pity as I see him realize he has failed. Not to protect me, but to convince me that he was right. That the pain he caused me was just. If he could convince me, me of all people, then perhaps he thought he would convince himself and know beyond all doubt that what he did was good. I’ve robbed him of that hope and any chance for his heart to be at peace. Ten years of brotherhood evaporate in a breath. We stare at one another and see strangers. He snaps his fingers at the guards. “We’re done here.” They come forward and I step aside so they can lead him away down the stairs to his death.

Jfc, the Eiffel Tower would be easier to miss.

From the start of Lysander’s arc in Iron Gold until he reunites with Cassius in Light Bringer, he repeatedly fantasizes about reconciling with Cassius; that he might be persuadable, that he might sympathize with his plight and understand what he’s trying to achieve, that he might finally see the Republic as fundamentally flawed and turn back to the Society.

While this is rightfully seen as pure–fucking–cope, somehow, it’s been forgotten (likely because Lysander himself refuses to acknowledge it) that he already tried to manipulate Cassius into ‘seeing reason’… and it didn’t fucking work. 

Iron Gold practically beats us over the head with how perceptive Cassius is and how he has never, under any circumstances, bought a single ticket to Lysander’s show. He’s immune to the Golden Shepherd propaganda—probably because it was never properly inculcated in him in the first place, as the Bellona don’t appear to be generally idealistic or have much piety to speak of.

But, more importantly, as the scene above clearly demonstrates, he reaches the realization that Lysander is wholly enthralled and Societypilled beyond the point of recovery. He recognizes, in Iron fucking Gold, that his reeducation failed and that Lysander has regressed (if he ever progressed in the first place) back to Octavia’s indoctrination. 

He must’ve gotten some sort of TBI in the Bleeding Place, though, because he has no goddamn memory of this scene in Light Bringer. And his stubborn insistence on infantilizing Lysander when he’s speaking in his defense annoys the ever–loving–fuck out of me, because not only does Lysander have a concrete philosophy behind his actions that’s obvious, even to someone with no foreknowledge or insight into his character, Cassius is painfully aware of what he’s trying to achieve and how he’s justifying his actions in his mind.

Lysander literally told him! To his face! And the text makes it clear that Cassius understands. He understands exactly what kind of person Lysander has become and he understands that he failed. He has accepted it. 

In Light Bringer, none of that is true. However you choose to interpret the nuances surrounding Cassius’ death and their conversation on the Lightbringer, it’s obvious that he was either willfully ignorant about Lysander’s nature, delusional, or just downright moronic. Which—it should go without fucking saying—is fully antithetical to his characterization and the point of development that his character reaches by the end of Iron Gold. 

This is such a monstrous betrayal of Cassius to me—and whatever pre–Light Bringer Pierce was trying to do with him. And I say ‘pre–Light Bringer’ because it’s fairly obvious that he had a different vision for the IGT when he wrote Iron Gold and Dark Age. Not for nothing was there six years between Dark Age and Light Bringer and only one between Iron Gold and Dark Age, as well as discordance in both tone and substance between Light Bringer and its predecessors. It’s an unvarnished attempt to take the series in a different direction. 

Which happens. Far be it from me to judge Pierce Brown for that. But taking a book in a different direction doesn’t necessarily mean jettisoning what you’ve developed in the previous ones. And there are several aspects in Light Bringer that are consistent and do represent faithful continuations of subplots initiated in Iron Gold and Dark Age.

But you will find next–to–nothing of that sort surrounding Cassius. 

And people love to say, ‘Oh, but there’s still Red God!’ and… yeah. They’re right. There’s still time for Pierce to write a finale that honors the rest of his series better than the penultimate. There’s still time… for their faves to get meaningful conclusions to their arcs.

But there’s no time left for Cassius. He was fucking rawdogged by Light Bringer and I will never not be livid about it.

Brotherly Love

Getting back to the substance of your ask, though... as for Hangar 17B being written as ‘a brother’s love wasn’t enough,’ you are, of course, entitled to your opinion, but… I don’t see that, personally. Cassius did not choose to die because Darrow brozoned him—or because Aurae friendzoned him. It wasn’t about Darrow or Aurae, at all. 

If anything, Cassius’ suicide was motivated by Lysander’s renouncement of their brotherhood. He couldn’t accept that Lysander had rejected him—and not just him, personally, but his last chance of redemption, of achieving peace and reconciliation, of possessing anything approximate to honor, of escaping annihilation, of being loved. 

You could fairly say ‘love not being enough’ is what went wrong between Cassius and Lysander, as a whole. Lysander, not loving Cassius enough to choose their brotherhood over his cause or break free of Octavia; Cassius, loving Lysander to the point of self–destruction because their love was too weak to save him from himself yet too strong for him to walk away.

But, as far as Darrow and Cassius are concerned, I don’t think their relationship was at all relevant to what happened—nor should it have been.

There are many fans who find themselves resenting Cassius for choosing Lysander over Darrow and ostensibly loving him more than Darrow, despite all that Lysander has done generally, being such an odious person that has caused immeasurable harm to characters they love, and specifically to Cassius, who he’s been mistreating since their first conversation. 

(He was a sweet boy—the fuck he was not. We all read Ch. 48, Cassius; 🙄) 

And I empathize. But... anyone that’s genuinely surprised by this turn (not that Lysander would murder Cassius but that Cassius would favor Lysander over Darrow) really hasn’t been paying attention to the nature of their relationship—and I don’t blame them for that, because it is criminally underdeveloped and much of their substance is left in the subtext.

But, as I mentioned above, Cassius has consistently demonstrated that he loves unconditionally and unreservedly, even if he’d rather not; he’s not the master of his own emotions and his heart forgives against his will. Darrow is the prime example; he loved him far too much to ever hate him.

If after everything that Darrow did to Cassius and took from Cassius, after Julian and Primus and Mustang and the Gala and the Lion’s Rain and the Sons of Ares and the Ice, he wasn’t capable of renouncing him, what made anyone think that he would ever be capable of truly renouncing—much less loathe—Lysander? 

And the assumption that Cassius must necessarily love Darrow more than Lysander is false. If anything, the reverse is more reasonable to conclude. Yes, Lysander mistreated Cassius, but Darrow does, too; he’s very dismissive of him (just how many times does Darrow tell Cassius to shut up or call him stupid in Light Bringer?) and defends him only once, in private, after he’s been beaten to a pulp—which, notably, Darrow felt was necessary and watched with no intention of interfering. 

Don’t get me wrong: Lysander is objectively worse than Darrow. He’s a rightfully detested antagonist with a nauseating inner–monologue who commits unrepentant heinous act after unrepentant heinous act. But… subjectively? To Cassius? Lysander is not terrible to Cassius. And Cassius has no personal—that is, selfish—cause to hate him, at all, unless you hold Lysander accountable for Octavia’s crimes against Cassius, and he definitely doesn’t. 

Meanwhile, Darrow has been wholly or partially responsible for nearly every traumatic moment of Cassius’ life and expressed little to no remorse for any of them—but even if he did, it would hardly make a difference. The sight of Darrow beating Julian to death in the Passage is not something that Cassius can ever unsee. 

I’m not saying that Cassius doesn’t love Darrow, of course. Only that their relationship will forever be scarred by the pain they’ve caused each other and what Cassius feels for him will never be purely love; resentment and hatred (of Darrow, for hurting him so deeply and unforgivably, as much as himself, for succumbing to his stubborn affection for someone that he was honor–bound to despise and destroy) will always be there.

Their relationship is… complicated.

Which is commonly overlooked, imo, because Cassius and Darrow’s relationship only seems to be complicated on Cassius’ end. Darrow doesn’t appear to harbor anything stronger than occasional annoyance towards Cassius. In a similar vein, Cassius’ relationship with Lysander is only complicated on Lysander’s end. Because that’s the only end we see, it’s tempting to reach the conclusion that their brotherhood is fraught.

But it’s… not. 

Lysander is easily the person that Cassius loves most in the world—his ward, his mentee, his protégé, his brother, and (if we’re thinking critically about the way Cassius treats him, especially in Light Bringer, it’s almost an inescapable conclusion that he regards him as…) his son. Even during that scene from Iron Gold quoted above, which should’ve rightfully marked the end of their brotherhood, Cassius is still protecting Lysander.

There’s also an extent to which Cassius feels obligated to Lysander, of course. His guardianship began primarily as—and remained partly, even as he came to love Lysander—penance for his treason. But something that’s wrongfully overlooked or outright forgotten about said obligation is that it’s not only Octavia to whom Cassius feels indebted but also Aja. Because Cassius’ partnership with Aja certainly exceeded the intimacy of whatever pseudo–maternal relationship he possessed with Octavia and should rightfully be likened to Darrow’s relationship with Lorn.

What Lorn was to Darrow, Aja was to Cassius, and she entered his life at his nadir, when he was most vulnerable and desperate for connection.

And Aja is repeatedly stressed to have cared more about Lysander, to have been warmer and more actively involved in his life, than Octavia; she was the closest thing Lysander had to a mother and she loved him far more than her own son, Ajax. That said, protecting Lysander is the only way for Cassius to honor her memory and make reparations—to Aja—for his betrayal. And he would naturally be as committed to honoring her as Darrow is to honoring Lorn.

Honestly, far from being shocked that Cassius would continue loving Lysander despite everything he has done, I’m surprised that his loyalties were never questioned earlier. Because no one on Team Darrow, including Darrow, ever seems to acknowledge even the possibility that Cassius might switch sides, despite the fact that he’s apparently just as loathed in the Republic as he is in the Remnant, that the survival of his precious Conquering line is wholly dependent upon him, and that Lysander and Julia, two of the most powerful people in the Remnant, absolutely have the power to contrive a pardon for him, especially if he brought them a particularly valuable head.

If anything, Darrow and Co. act like Cassius should be grateful for their hospitality, as if he has nowhere else to go and they’re begrudgingly tolerating his presence; they treat him like he’s a stray they rescued from a kill–shelter. Meanwhile, he could’ve just said ‘slag this’ at any given time and waltzed into any Society–controlled territory and said, ‘Who fancies being rich as Croesus?’ and that’d be that. 

When Lysander is contemplating giving him to Julia, after he and Darrow are captured at the beginning of Light Bringer, it doesn’t even seem like he’s going to be punished. Just handed over… and married to Pallas, I reckon; get that bloodline hella secured. 

To be clear, I don’t think that Cassius would ever turn back to the Society—of his own volition, at least. Nor do I think LB!Cassius ever considered it. I’m just surprised nobody on the Republic’s side was ever suspicious; it seems like an appropriate addition to their barrage of constant disparagement. 

Insult to Injury

All that said, it is jarring when you look at Cassius’ last words in their context, because he sounds like he’s rejecting Lysander… as he dies for his sake and breaches fealty to what he names? Because, make no mistake, he is choosing Lysander by ensuring that no one will ever know the truth of their encounter. 

As Morning Knight of the Solar Republic, he had a duty to inform said Republic and the Sovereign to whom he is sworn, Mustang, of the enemy’s possession of a (potential; it may not be efficacious) bioweapon that could eradicate whole Colors and will now do so (if able) without warning. 

As a son of Tiberius, he should feel compelled to sacrifice his relationship with Lysander for the greater good and the possible prevention of future genocide. As a son of Julia, he should feel compelled to inform her of the bioweapon, too, because her interests are deeply imperiled by the ascendance of a man with Lysander’s ambitions and capabilities.

As a brother of Darrow and pointedly not Lysander, he should be far more concerned about Lysander potentially murdering Darrow—and his entire Color!—than how Lysander might feel about murdering Darrow—and his entire Color!

And there’s a world of difference between Cassius loving Lysander more than Darrow and Cassius choosing Lysander over Darrow and, by extension, the Republic. The former is more than reasonable to conclude and it would’ve made sense for Cassius to perhaps suffer a mortal consequence for that. The latter, on the other hand, is something that he has consistently demonstrated not even a razor to the throat could compel him to do.

He made his choice in Morning Star and he has always stood firm by it; in Iron Gold, even Lysander knows he’s wasting his breath. But in Light Bringer? Lysander literally begs Cassius to leave and return to Darrow and honor his fucking oaths to the Republic—and he still doesn’t do it! 

Nonsense. That’s it—that’s the TL;DR. It’s fucking ludicrous. I almost want to laugh. I could waste the rest of my life dissecting this scene like a bug and there would still be shitty aspects that I missed. It’s a clusterfuck that feels more and more like a targeted insult the more that I chew on it.

And it never fails to astound me how many people—most of the people I’ve discussed it with, actually, especially on the subreddit and Discord—think not only that Cassius’ actions in Hangar 17B were completely in–character and an appropriate conclusion to his arc but that it would’ve been out–of–character for Cassius to have done anything else.

And say that with their full chest. 

If I wasn’t as ballsdeep into the Red Rising fandom as I am and compelled to reference it occasionally for asks like this, I would never read the fucking travesty that is Light Bringer again. Not that there aren’t parts I do enjoy, but it’s overall a fetid dumpster–fire of a book that explodes at the end.