Archive of Our Own ^beta

Phainon, Hyacine knew, was a sociable person.

It was clear to see in how he conducted himself from day to day – whether it was an old woman needing help crossing the road; a group of men debating the moral philosophy of love; or even just a lone chimaera looking for company while they were hard at work, he was always willing to lend a friendly ear and get to know people.

Not only this, but having known Phainon for much longer, ever since their time as students, Hyacine was aware of just how extroverted the man could be.

They had been classmates during their years at the Grove, and, along with Castorice, they had formed the ‘terrible trio’ or ‘the bane of Professor Anaxa’s existence’, trailing behind him with quips and questions that he answered with weary grumbles.

Castorice was the perceptive one, always commenting on details in people's words and body language in class discussion. Hyacine was typically the mediator, stopping debates from being blown out of proportion and destroying friendships. And Phainon…

Phainon was shameless.

Well, perhaps shameless was the wrong word. With his effortless charisma and thick skin, he could comfortably speak his mind, causing social interactions to be much easier, debates to be child's play and his reputation to flourish. To the rest of the world, he was a born leader, but Hyacine knew that in reality, Phainon was just good at pretending.

She had seen firsthand how in private, the weight of the world's expectations could pull on the man’s shoulders; yet to the rest of Okhema, he remained the Deliverer, an immovable pillar of hope for the new era. There was no point, no purpose in stopping to consider the whispers of the weak when Phainon was busy defending the world from destruction.

In this manner, the arrival of the Kremnoans had been a marvellous event for making that mask crack, just a little.

The day had been like any other for Hyacine – she was busy taking care of the victims from a resurgence in the black tide along the east of Okhema. The news of Phainon being sent to speak with the Kremnoan force had reached her a couple of days ago, but most of her attention had been soaked up in her duties.

“Lady Hyacine, you, uh, might want to come help.” One of her attendants called out, sounding equal parts awed and worried from where she was manning the front of the medical bay. It was strange for her to call Hyacine over – she was normally more draconian with grilling the injured on their medical histories – and for that reason, the healer moved with haste.

To her surprise, Phainon was standing sheepishly in front of the medical assistant, carrying his bloodstained coat in his arms and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward smile. He looked like he had gotten into a fight against a feral cat, with a purple bruise blooming under his eye, a harsh scratch peeking out along his collarbones, and a smeared trail of red under his nose.

“Lord Phainon? What… what happened to you?” said Hyacine, aghast at the state of Okhema’s champion. Not many were capable of even aptly defending against Phainon in combat, let alone leaving him in such a state.

“Um.” The man said eloquently, “I think I convinced the Kremnoans to join us?”

Hyacine felt faint. So, this was the work of the Kremnoans. Were they truly as fearsome as legend spoke of them? If so, would they be able to assimilate peacefully into Okhema, a city so languid with peace? “Were they the ones who left such marks on you?”

Strangely enough, Phainon's smile took on a cloudy quality, like he was reminiscing a pleasant memory. Hyacine shot her assistant a quick look, telling her to prepare to catch him if he fainted. Phainon let out a (lovesick?) sigh. “No, that was their prince. Titans, what a man. Hyacine, did you know we were at it for ten days and ten nights straight?”

“Lord Phainon, I don't think–!” Hyacine squeaked, face burning bright red as she tried to cover Little Ica’s ears. Her beloved companion had floated over to eye the complementary candies at the front of the medical bay, but their ears would be defiled if she wasn't careful.

“No really, Hyacine, he was a force of nature,” Phainon continued, his voice taking on a breathy quality. “We first started fighting with our weapons – did you know he uses gauntlets? I had to pin him down to disarm him, and he was so hissy, it was cute. That's when he did this, I think.”

Phainon lifted his shirt and gestured vaguely to his side, where a mottled, ugly bruise was forming. “He kicked me in the ribs,” Phainon smiled dreamily, “I hope it scars.”

“...bruises don't tend to leave scars, Lord Phainon,” Hyacine spoke tentatively, and led the man into the infirmary. He was probably in need of a more comprehensive checkup. He seemed concussed.

Phainon frowned and seemed to deflate, sinking onto a bed with a whine. “Oh. Well, he did leave some pretty mean scratches on my shoulders once we started doing hand to hand combat. Those will probably scar, right?”

He quickly stripped off his shirt, showing off his back and shoulders which looked absolutely mauled, as though a lion had attacked him with vigour.

“Ouch. Well, these probably will.” Hyacine said, "But why do you want your wounds to scar so badly?”

Within Okhema, scars were not something to be ashamed of, yet they were also not something to be heavily sought after. On Chrysos Heirs however, scars were a mark of another battle fought, so perhaps that was the reason for Phainon's desire?

The man in question merely blinked and tilted his head like the answer was obvious. “The prince doesn't scar. His body… It's truly amazing. Hyacine, if you ever wish to study him, please invite me, I'll help test it out. You'd never believe it, when I pressed my hand on his –”

Hyacine coughed loudly, “Lord Phainon, you were explaining the reason why you wanted to keep your scars?”

“Right. The prince doesn't scar, so he has no evidence to remind him of the battles he's fought. Of his strength, his courage, his perseverance. It must be distressing, fighting for so long and yet having no record other than memory. I've decided that I'll be his record. From here on, I will fight by his side eternally, and bear every mark with pride.”

Ica trilled, and stole an apple from the basket on a patient’s bedside table. Hyacine was too stunned to care. Phainon's speech… it sounded like a confession. A ridiculous confession, because how did carrying scars inflicted by the prince equate to reminding the prince of the battles he had fought?!

Whatever, Hyacine’s job was to heal people, not to ask questions. The quiet sounds of Ica’s chewing filled the room, creating a peaceful background noise as Hyacine wiped at the blood on Phainon's face.

“Did he hit you on the face?” Hyacine asked with concern, checking to see if it was broken, “your nose seems to have bled quite a lot.”

“Ah.” Phainon turned pink. “The prince, he uh… he wasn’t covering his chest.”

Hyacine shouldn’t have asked.

“He has some beautiful breasts. Really, I mean, his body is absurd. He wasn't wearing trousers either, actually. Practically in the nude.”

“That’s great, Lord Phainon.”

When Hyacine finally met the revered Kremnoan prince, she didn't know what she was expecting. A ferocious man, a wild warrior, a battle-hungry soldier. The reality was overwhelmingly different.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hyacinthia. I am Mydeimos, of Castrum Kremnos.” The prince paused, appearing to consider something, and continued, “though, you may call me Mydei, if you wish.”

Hyacine could see why Mydei had captivated Phainon in such a manner. The man was tall, much taller than Hyacine, and was only exceeded slightly in height by Phainon. A fact that seemed to please the white haired man immensely. Mydei's body was lithe with corded muscle, adorned with heavy gold jewelry and crimson tattoos; his strawberry blonde hair trailed down his back and curled at the ends near his waist, darkening into a deeper red.

Defying Hyacine's expectations of a rabid, berserker prince, his clothes were simple, yet neatly arranged – a red chlamys, fastened over one shoulder with a gold pin and armoured boots clasped above his knees. He looked the epitome of a noble hunter, though unlike Phainon’s recollection, he was wearing a pair of trousers and had strategically arranged his chlamys to cover both his chest and his thighs.

That was probably to deter any more nosebleeds.

All in all, Mydei appeared to be a fairly normal man, regal and composed like Agy, but with a hidden strength brimming beneath the surface.

He seemed to be ignoring the gazes of the rest of the medical bay, choosing to look down contemplatively at Hyacine, with golden eyes that were wary but curious. Perhaps he was uncertain on how he would be received. It had only been a few quints since the Kremnoan force had been greeted within the city, and already rumours were surfacing on how they were ‘ruthless beasts’ who ‘drank the blood of innocents’ and revelled in strife. What nonsense.

“Please, call me Hyacine. It's lovely to meet you, Prince Mydei,” Hyacine chirped, and snatched Little Ica away from where they were hovering menacingly above Mydei's greeting gift, a platter of juicy pomegranates and goat’s cheese. “This is my assistant, Little Ica. I hope we can work well together!”

Mydei went still, his shining gaze dropping to Hyacine’s arms. To Ica. He stared at them with such intensity that Hyacine almost felt like sending the pegasus away, worried that they had done something to displease the prince within mere minutes. The man swallowed, raising a gauntlet-covered hand to cover the lower half of his face.

“That… your assistant. They’re quite…” His hand muffled the rest of his words, and his eyes darted away.

“Eh? Prince Mydei, is something–?”

“Mydei. Just Mydei, we’re comrades, you don’t have to call me the full title.” His voice sounded pinched, as though he was frustrated, but his shy actions and the rosy tint to his cheeks betrayed his true feelings. “Besides, there is no point honouring such archaic traditions, they serve no purpose.”

Hyacine blinked. “Alright, Mydei.”

She was about to depart to continue her duties, when suddenly, the reason for Mydei's odd behaviour clicked. His fleeting glances at Ica. His eyes, twinkling when Ica trilled and squeaked. A cheeky smile found its way onto her face. “Would you mind holding Ica? I have to go check on some patients.”

She left out the fact that Ica was perfectly capable of floating around freely, and led Mydei further into the medical bay to push him down onto a kline in a seated position. Ica was a little heavier than most people expected, and Hyacine didn't want Mydei to collapse under their weight.

“If… if you insist.” Mydei's confused face melted into a shy expression, his eyes round and shining with excitement. He took off his gauntlets, holding his arms out expectantly.

Hyacine was right to make him sit down, for the moment the pegasus was deposited in Mydei's arms, he let out a little exhale of air, and his grip faltered slightly. Not the worst reaction. He would be a strong addition to Okhema.

A blanket of quiet draped over the infirmary, and Hyacine returned to work. Now then, she just had to change the bandages of the two men from the south gate, stitch up the accidental wound on the woman from the bar and set the dislocated arm of the teenage boy. It shouldn't be too much work.

Occasional trills burst out of Ica, thrilled at having the full attention of such an honoured warrior. In response, Mydei let out quiet coos which he probably thought Hyacine couldn’t hear, petting Ica's rotund form and feeding them dried pomegranate seeds. Hyacine could spare little time for the cute sight, however, for her patients were in need of her attention. Such was the life of a healer, she supposed.

But, after she finished setting the young boy's arm – “Thanks a bunch, Lady Hyacine!” – a new sight caught her eye.

Coming up the path to the Twilight Courtyard was none other than Phainon, his pale hair slightly ruffled and his lip split open as he hiked along the path with a pleased expression. His hands were behind his back, and his gait was slowed, as though he were dragging something heavy behind him.

“Lord Phainon, you’re here again.” Hyacine called out, and as the man approached, she caught sight of the load he was pulling along. A net, trapping not one, not two, but six men’s limp bodies! Hyacine rushed forward.“What in Kephale’s name is this?!”

Phainon gave her a smug smile, like a dog proudly demonstrating its newly learned commands. “These, my dear Hyacine, are the men responsible for feeding the Verax Leos lies about the Kremnoans.” Phainon lifted one of the ends of the net, giving it a light shake and chuckling as one of the men inside groaned. “We got into a bit of a scuffle, that’s why my lip looks a little busted.”

Hyacine felt slightly faint. If Aglaea found out that the esteemed Deliverer, the proclaimed protector of Okehma and all its people, was beating citizens only for the crime of bad mouthing – oh.

She leaned in closer. The stench of booze wafted out from the net, and one of the men let out a nasty belch. Blergh, disgusting. Hyacine looked up to Phainon, who was watching the exchange with a cheeky grin.

“You didn't really think I'd beat them unconscious, did you? No way, Aglaea would have my head. But, well, I had to teach them a lesson didn’t I, so I caught them in this net. I couldn’t have them spreading more rumours about our new friends, it’d make the prince sad.”

Sad seemed like the wrong word to use. Hyacine hadn’t known Mydei for very long, but she felt fairly certain that the prince would be a bit more pragmatic about handling such matters. Still, she said nothing, and let Phainon bring his spoils inside.

As the man dragged the net further into the medical bay, he whistled a jaunty tune like a farmer bringing home fresh crops for his wife’s dinner. He didn’t appear to notice the man draped across the kline, reclining on it as he slept. Hyacine was a little surprised that Mydei had fallen asleep, but it wouldn’t have been the first time that the tranquil atmosphere of the medical bay had made someone drowsy.

Phainon let out a little huff, trying to shove one of the men’s limbs into a more compact position from where he had tucked the net into a corner. “Hyacine, would you like me to undo the net? I don’t want to cause you any trouble when they wake up.”

You’ll cause enough trouble when you see who’s resting on Ica, Hyacine bemoaned, but she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll ask Ica to eat the nets. His fibre intake’s been low lately.”

“Oh, right.” Phainon spun around and took off his coat, fanning his face lightly to stave off the warmth he’d built up from maneuvering the six unconscious men in the already toasty infirmary. With a dust of his hands, he asked, “Where is Little Ica anyways? They didn’t even try to check these guys’ pockets for snacks.”

“Brrrrrt!”

A desperate little trill echoed in the room, and Phainon perked up to try and locate the source. “Was that them? Where are you hiding little guy? I might have some– oh!”

Blue eyes fell on the adorable sight on the kline, and Phainon let out a delighted gasp.

Mydei was slumped on his side, curled up like a sleeping lion, with Ica grasped tightly in the confines of his sturdy arms. The pegasus was struggling helplessly to free themself from the hold, eyeing balefully at the unreachable pockets of the drunken men. In return, Phainon eyed Ica with jealousy, for Kephale knows why.

Hyacine was a little confused – how could Mydei nap through such a commotion? Phainon wasn’t necessary quiet when he entered, and Ica’s desperate squeals were far from unnoticeable. Maybe the man was simply a deep sleeper.

“Oh! Well, if it isn’t Mydeimos himself!” Phainon breathed, and in a swift movement, he was by the man’s side. With gentle hands, Phainon extricated Ica from Mydei’s grip, and the pegasus immediately flew off to start gnawing at the netting. Unfortunately for Phainon, he wasn’t as subtle as he wished, and Mydei’s eyes fluttered open.

Hyacine felt like she was intruding when she saw how red the prince turned, his eyes flitting between the bulge of Phainon’s biceps through his black undershirt, the tight stretch of fabric across his abs and his firm pecs glancing through the deep neck of the shirt.

Then, upon noticing Phainon’s hands on his arms and the lack of Ica cuddled up to him, Mydei shot Hyacine a panicked look.

But that died down soon enough, when he caught sight of the pegasus ravaging the net in the corner and pilfering the pockets of the unconscious men. Wisely, he did not comment.

Instead, his blush deepened when Phainon dropped Mydei's arms in favour of settling down on the kline beside him, sprawling his legs out and taking up most of the space. Leaning back on his arms, Phainon shot Mydei a look, one which made Hyacine turn around and go back to reorganising her medical supplies.

Phainon snaked an arm around Mydei and reached up to toy with the end of his braid, speaking candidly, “What brings you here, princess?”

Hyacine wanted to leave. Why was Phainon calling Mydei ‘princess’. Actually, she didn’t want to know. Aquila above, someone save her.

“...Stop calling me that.” Mydei sounded irked, but not as angry as she’d expect him to be. Then again, she had only recently met the man. If anything, he was simply drowsy from his nap, and too disgruntled to properly contest Phainon’s absurd nickname.

“What, princess?” Phainon cooed, pinching Mydei’s cheek lightly until the man batted his hand away. “But, you said I shouldn’t call you ‘prince’, and everyone calls me a ‘hero’. So we can be a pair. Princess and his hero.”

Oh! Hyacine wanted them out of her clinic. Phainon was starting to speak his nonsense again.

It seemed Mydei had a similar idea, for his brows pinched and he opened his mouth to speak, to explain to Phainon that he was rambling complete bullshit. “That doesn’t make any–”

He cut his words off with a grunt, suddenly weighed down by Phainon flopping onto his lap. The pale haired man’s lips were stretched into a cocky grin as if he were challenging Mydei to shove him away. Mydei, the saint, did nothing.

There was a rustle of clothing as Phainon pressed his cheek into the plush of Mydei’s thigh, and groaned dramatically, “I’m tired, beating up those men was so much effort. Won’t you give your hero a reward?”

Phainon’s words were bold-faced lies– he had clearly not beaten up anyone, and even if he had, he was more than capable of destroying a titan, so six regular men would have been child’s play to him. When Hyacine snuck a glance at the pair, he was making those pathetic puppy dog eyes that he used against teachers during their days as students. Hyacine turned quickly so the men could not see her face twist in disgust. She was a kind healer, she needed to respect everyone equally. Even her loser coworker.

If anything, she felt most bad for Mydei, because she now knew that man had a weakness for cute things, so who knows how firm he would be against the famed ‘Puppy-non face’. Still, she was a responsible Chrysos Heir and the head physician, so she had more important things to worry about.

Ica floated up to Hyacine, having finished chewing away all the ropes; that was a sign for the healer to direct her attention to the six drunkards stinking up her clinic. They were still unconscious, so she’d probably leave them there until they woke up, otherwise she’d have to move them herself.

Kephale knows she wouldn’t get any help from the other two.

“You didn’t have to do that. We are new to the city, it’s natural for there to be some dissent, and you can’t go around beating them all.” It seemed that Mydei had fallen for Phainon’s tales – or he was merely humouring the man.

One of the drunk men stirred, letting out a feeble groan. Ica sat on his chest, and he passed out again.

“You may be right. But what good is keeping people safe from the black tide if they’ll inevitably destroy themselves from within?”

Hyacine lifted up a flask filled with a sludgy, grey liquid, pretending to hold it up to the light as an excuse to sneak a glance at the pair, now sitting in silence.

Mydei’s gaze was soft as he peered down at Phainon, and he slowly pet through snowy locks. Phainon said nothing, only settling further into the cradle of Mydei’s thighs and closing his eyes with a hum.

They’re more tolerable when they're silent than when they talk, Hyacine mused, and went back to her work.

As the years passed and the Kremnoans integrated more into Okheman life, Mydei too became an integral part of the Chrysos Heirs. When not tussling with Phainon, he could usually be found watching over the city on a quiet rooftop, or allowing the Tribios triplets and other children of the city to braid his hair. Maybe he’d be helping Hyacine practice her healing, maybe he’d be keeping Castorice company as an undying friend, maybe he’d be preparing a delicious meal in the kitchens.

Or, as a more recent development, he would be joining the rest of the Heirs in their routine group bath. Aglaea spared no expense, describing it as the perfect chance to build team unity, and so there would always be rich bathing products, decadent snacks and the promise of a quiet space.

It was on one of these customary baths that, for the first time, Mydei was late.

He had been accompanying the triplets on an investigation into the location of Castrum Kremnos, and so it was only Aglaea, Hyacine, Castorice and Phainon waiting in the golden baths. The rhythmic splashing of the waterfalls within the baths helped to set a constant backing to their quiet conversation, which trailed from topics as simple as the status of Aglaea’s Garmentmakers to a debate on Professor Anaxa’s most recent controversy.

Aglaea was about to share a cold quip about the man when her teleslate chimed and lit up with a new message. She read the message and hummed, then leaned back.  “Teacher is on her way. Apparently Mydei’s injured from their expedition, so they–.

“Mydei was injured?! Hyacine, let’s go to the medical bay.” In a flash, Phainon shot up from his seat, only to be forced back down by a weary Garmentmaker.

Aglaea chuckled. “No, no, don’t worry. It’s not severe. Besides, a bath may do them some good.”

“I’ll at least send Ica to get some supplies.” Hyacine felt a pang of worry at the thought of Mydei being injured – for such an indomitable man to be hurt, they must have encountered something dangerous. She looked desperately to her companion. “Ica, don’t eat the bandages like last time. I’ll give you some grapes instead.”

Only, the platter of grapes was suspiciously empty. Ica looked back at her with a vacant stare. “Oh, Ica. I’m sure Mydei will make you some honeycakes if you help us.”

And Ica was off.

Sneaking a glance over to Phainon, Hyacine was surprised to see the man looking pale, his brows furrowed and his arms folded with tension. Although, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising; after all, Phainon had some sort of spiritual connection with Mydei and seemed to feel every scar that refused to show on the man's body.

“Look, De, everyone’s here!”

Hyacine turned at the sound of Tribbie’s chirp to see the girl herself grasping onto Mydei’s trouser leg and gently tugging him forward. She looked unharmed, though her hair was ruffled from the journey.

“Sorry to disturb you all.” Mydei mumbled, ducking his head slightly as he shuffled forward. He had removed the gauntlet on his left hand, and was using it to apply pressure to part of his chest covered with his exomis – presumably, this meant his wound was on his chest.

“Mydei!” Hyacine’s view of the man was blocked by a broad back as Phainon jumped out to greet him. To Hyacine, who had seen injured men in the nude too often to be shy, the sight was just like any other. But to the fearsome Crown Prince, it seemed that the view of Phainon’s naked form was enough to make his face erupt in a fierce blush. He quickly averted his eyes, sputtering as Phainon reached out to grab him. “You’re injured? How so? Your body is a miracle, surely you’d heal?”

Hyacine gawked as one of Phainon’s hands slipped under the fabric of Mydei’s tunic to explore his body for wounds, while the other busied itself with unclasping the gauntlet on Mydei’s right arm. Next to her, Castorice had taken out her notebook and was watching raptly.

Mydei let out an affronted squeak, shoving Phainon back into the baths as soon as the gauntlet was slipped off. “HKS, stop groping me!”

“Doot doot!”

Hyacine wheezed as Ica returned and slammed a heavy bag of supplies into her arm, before zooming off to a Mydei who had become round-eyed with joy. The pegasus seemed to enjoy fluttering around the man with happy trills, relishing in the attention and pets they were showered with.

That was all well, but Mydei was still injured. Hyacine cleared her throat, stifling a giggle as Mydei quickly turned to her, looking charmingly guilty.

“Ah, um, I was stabbed,” He pulled aside his exomis, revealing a nasty wound. The flesh around it was torn, as though the blade was serrated, and it leaked continuously with golden blood. “The blade was poisoned, so it's taking some time for my body to heal.”

Poison. That was something Hyacine could handle. She gave Mydei a reassuring smile and patted him on the arm. “I have some remedies for that. Go soak in the baths, and I’ll quickly prepare something.”

“Thank you.”

She turned to the bag Ica had brought over and rifled through it. Good, along with her traditional poison remedy, she could mix in some calendula to soothe and throw in a valerian pill to sedate, although Hyacine was still left unsure if those would be enough to calm the harsh pain of the poison antidote. Still, she had to try.

There was a splash behind her, and a choked-out gasp following the rustle of Mydei’s clothes falling to the floor. Phainon’s panicked wading forward sent ripples through the waters as he made his way to Mydei’s side. “Mydei, you were stabbed?! Where?”

“I’m fine, you can stop worrying,” Mydei sighed, and Hyacine felt the slight disturbance in the bath as he stepped into the golden water. “Right here, slightly to the left of my sternum.”

With the medicine crushed and pressed into a poultice, Hyacine turned to see Castorice scribbling furiously, Aglaea looking on amused, and Tribbie floating on her back as she napped. As for their other two companions–

“Y- you–!”

They were seated next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, and Phainon had a hand gently cupping Mydei’s breast, lifting it out of the way so he could press on the wound. “Does it hurt?”  

Mydei winced and tried to push him away. “What do you think?” But Phainon could be as immovable as a dromas, and Mydei’s protests fell on deaf ears. “Stop touching it, HKS!”

Titans above. These two were no better than chimaeras dancing around each other in the spring. Hyacine looked helplessly at Aglaea and Castorice, begging with her eyes for someone to get those idiots to stop being so obvious directly in front of her.

No, she should have known, those two would be no help. Certainly not the demigod of Romance, who watched the exchange with an air of wisdom, nor the famed writer Castorice, who only shot Hyacine an apologetic smile before returning to her notebook.

Whatever. Hyacine steeled herself, passed Mydei the valerian pill, and stepped forward.

“Lord Phainon, if you could move to the side, I’ll apply the antidote.”

Phainon only tilted his head like a confused dog, tightening his grip around Mydei. “Huh? Wouldn’t it be easier if I stayed? I’m strong, I can hold the prince in place if he gets squirmish.”

“Who’s squirmish?! Duel me, I’ll show you–”

“Alright, whatever.” Hyacine sighed wearily. The longer she spent dealing with Phainon, the longer Mydei’s wound was left untreated, and she quite liked Mydei. “This will sting, Mydei, but try not to move.”

“You can hold onto me, Mydei.”

Phainon had shifted closer to the man, pulling him slightly so he was half on his lap. Red-faced and embarrassed, yet powerless against his hold in his injured state, all Mydei did was grumble and avert his eyes.

As gently as she could, Hyacine pressed the poultice to the wound and tried not to wince in sympathy at the sight of the wound inflaming further. Poison always got worse befrore it got better.

It seemed that Mydei tried to remain stoic through the pain, but after about a minute of the poultice soaking into the gaping wound, his facade started to crumble.

Perhaps his mind was telling him to remain firm and not curl away from the necessary healing, but it didn’t matter: Mydei’s body subconsciously recoiled from the sensation as he tried to escape. In that sense, Hyacine was glad for Phainon’s earlier thinking, as his arm around Mydei’s midriff restricted him from going far.

She watched as that same arm started to drip with golden ichor, after the injured man’s nails dug into the thick forearm with fervour. Surprisingly, Phainon’s grip did not falter, and he held Mydei in place while the other man buried his pained whimpers into his neck.

After a few more minutes, the inflammation subsided, and the poison was out. “All done!”

Now, all Hyacine had to do was dress the wound, and then she would be free to leave the baths. With the spirit of a soldier fighting their final battle, she reached for her medical bag, sparing a glance to the others who had been suspiciously silent this whole time.

Castorice was no longer scribbling down notes; instead, she was blatantly sketching the scene before them (thankfully not including Hyacine) and pausing to show Aglaea, who would hum in acknowledgement and continue diligently typing away on her teleslate. Hyacine didn’t want to know who she was messaging.

Meanwhile, Phainon had gathered Mydei fully onto his lap now, angling him side-on so he could huff into Phainon’s neck while the man petted down his spine. “There, there.” He nuzzled his cheek into Mydei’s hair, cuddling him like a doting lover as he crooned, “You’re alright, Mydei.”

Castorice scribbled harder. Aglaea’s typing sped up.

That was it! Hyacine was out! She jumped up, yanking Ica away from the empty food platter and grabbing her stuff. “Ah, I suddenly remembered, I have some duties left in the Twilight Pavilion.”

Two steps away from the lift to freedom, Ica let out a despondent noise. Oh, right. Hyacine paused, calling out to the bath, “Lord Mydei? I'm sorry to spring this on you, but could you make Ica some honeycakes later, as a treat?”

“Hrm?” Mydei had a dazed look in his eyes – probably because of the valerian –  and was all but snuggling up to Phainon. Phainon, who seemed to have regained his consciousness and was burning bright red. He could dish it but couldn’t take it. “Mmm.”

Whatever, it wasn’t Hyacine’s problem.

Rowdy cheers echoed in the tavern as a drunken crowd surrounded a single table, clamouring with the joy that could only be witnessed at an impromptu drinking competition.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” The crowd’s chants were filled with mirth and punctuated with the stale smell of alcohol. After all, as it was the last day of the Month of Joy, tradition dictated it was only right for everyone to get absolutely piss-drunk.

“Who do you think will win? My money’s on Lord Phainon!”

Similar sentiments were echoed by half of the people there, whereas the others only jeered in response. The support for the competitors was equally matched.

“Are you kidding?! Bromios is the record-holder for Most Drinks in One Minute!”

“So what? He’s nothing compared to a Chrysos heir!”

“That begs the question, are you suggesting that Chrysos heirs have intrinsically different biology?”

“Intrinsic– what?”

“If they are so apt at drinking, would they be apt at, let’s say, child-rearing? What about carrying a child? I only say this because Lord Mydei–”

Hyacine stepped away from the conversation, twisting her face in dismay. She really did not need to hear that.

The only reason she was still at the tavern during the first quint of Curtain-Fall hour, long past her usual self-imposed curfew, was because it was her turn in the week to hold Lord Phainon’s metaphorical leash.

He was the picture-perfect Deliverer, always kind and ready to defend people from unjust treatment. But, perhaps due to his competitive spirit and his love for being around others, he was also quick to get carried away.

Normally, Lady Aglaea or Castorice would accompany him, but the revelry from the day’s worship of Phagousa had left them exhausted – they were quick to depart as soon as their duties were completed.

And Mydei, for all his reprimands and stern words for Phainon’s behaviour, was no better than an enabler, always permitting the man to do whatever he pleased.

Hyacine looked despairingly at the centre of the tavern, where a red-faced and woozy Phainon was downing his last flagon of wine, some drops of it dripping down the side of his face from his lack of inhibition.

His opponent, the seasoned drinker Bromios, a man who could always be seen nursing a glass as early as Action hour, still had two flagons left. Hyacine thought faintly, Aquila above, how was Phainon outdrinking the resident alcoholic?!

Clearly he was not accustomed to it – his pale skin was blotchy and red, and he was swaying in his seat; Phainon’s favourite drink was water, so it could only be his sheer enthusiasm fuelling his latest stint.

With a weary sigh, Hyacine pulled out her teleslate. She would have to call backup.

[Hyacine:]

*pleading chimaera sticker*

Mydei, I know it’s late, but Phainon’s blackout drunk!

[Mydei:]

I’m outside

Hyacine blinked. That was fast, she hadn’t even told him where they were?!

Suddenly, the crowd erupted into joyful roars and raucous cheers, startling her out of her thoughts. Over on the table, it looked like Phainon had won his little competition.

The inebriated man had a toothy grin plastered on his face and wine staining his face pink, but he raised his glass with the triumph of a warrior having won a fearsome battle. On shaky feet, he tried to stand, only to stumble comically over his own boots and tumble flat on his face.

Right before a muscular leg, adorned with crimson tattoos and laced up in casual sandals.

What. When did Mydei get inside? Hyacine spun to the door and then back, disbelief colouring her features. Was she truly so out of it that she hadn’t noticed him enter?

Although, she considered as she began to cut through the crowd and approach the men, he was dressed far more casually than usual.

As was to be expected, for it was far too late to still romping around in full armour and his rich fabrics. He still wore all of his jewellery; though instead of his usal garb, Mydei wore a simple chiton, his legs bare underneath, and comfortable sandals.

Comfortable sandals that Phainon seemed to recognise, for he groaned at the man’s feet – it had looked like a nasty fall, Hyacine would have to check he hadn’t permanently injured himself – and then chirped in recognition. “Ehhhh? Is that– is thah M‘dei?”

“Idiot, you’re completely pissed.” Mydei snorted, nudging Phainon’s head with his foot.

He didn’t look half as angry as Hyacine would have expected him to be, having been disturbed from his precious sleep to come collect Phainon, like he was an unruly husband at the pub.  

More like a dog, actually, as Phainon let out a pitiful whine and sat up on his knees, his metaphorical ears pressed flat against his head in dismay.

Then, with all the finesse of a man lacking all sense, he wrapped his arms around Mydei and started planting wet, slobbery kisses up his leg. “Sorryyy… sorry M’dei…”

Mydei yelped in a shockingly high-pitched tone for a man of his stature, then freed himself to kick Phainon onto his back and plant a foot on his chest. He stared down at Phainon, like a fierce prince come to slay a usurping king after years of exile, daring him to protest.

But Phainon, the shameless dog, only looked up at Mydei with lovestruck eyes and slurred out, “Wooah, wha’ a view.”

It was like they weren’t in a public area, surrounded by a crowd of Okhema’s most talkative civilians and Okhema’s most tortured healer. Hyacine bemoaned her fate – couldn’t Cassie have been in charge today instead?

Though surprisingly, the crowd was dispersing with their usual chatter, getting bored of the scene playing out between the blushing prince and the pathetic hero. Hyacine swore she heard someone mutter, “Looks like they’re at it again” and “Let’s hope they don’t break a table again like last time.”

Why was this a normal occurrence for them.

She hurried forward, lightly grabbing Mydei by the arm to get his attention before he soiled his sandals with Phainon’s blood. He gave her a questioning glance.

“Ah, he’s a bit out of it. Don’t take anything he says to heart.” Hyacine tried to mediate, though her words only seemed to make Mydei more furious. “Um… unless you want to?”

Mydei peered at the man beneath him, for a moment longer, and then: “Hmph, let’s just go.”

And that was that. Hyacine watched in disbelief as he calmly shouldered through the tables, sidestepping a brawl and heading straight for the exit while leaving Phainon splayed out on the floor.

He was a step away from the door when he stopped, shot a glance behind him and commanded, “HKS! Come on.”

That was all it took for Phainon to clamber to his feet and trail after Mydei, a well-trained dog through and through; it was as though Mydei had alleviated Hyacine of possession of Phainon’s leash with just his presence.

She couldn’t afford to count her blessings, so she followed along to make sure one of them didn’t get brained. Though just like with Cassie, she maintained a distance of five paces. For safety.  

She should have made it ten paces.

Hyacine had barely taken a step out the door when she heard another compromising noise from Mydei – a squeak. Phainon had swept him up into a one-handed hold, balancing him firmly on the crook of his elbow.

“What are you doing? Put me down.” Mydei’s voice was steady, however, as though this wasn’t the first time he had been lifted up like a prize.

“There’s a puddle.”

Disgusting. Hyacine wanted to barf at how tender Phainon’s eyes had become, staring up at Mydei and giving him a hopeful smile as though expecting praise. They could do all that, and still refuse to put a label on their weird back-and-forth tango, subjecting her to be their witness.

“Ok, but how do you expect to carry me like this the whole time? Your arm will get tired.” Mydei said, and Hyacine wanted to cry out with joy at his logic – Phainon was strong, but he was a clumsy drunk, and it would be too easy for him to be distracted by a rogue squirrel and drop Mydei.

His words seemed to have reached Phainon’s ears, finally making him think for the first time that night as he considered the best way to refute Mydei’s claim. His fingers were leaving tiny marks on Mydei’s thigh from how he flexed and unflexed his hold, as though he were kneading a ball of dough while he pondered.

Phainon’s next actions were too fluid for Hyacine to clearly describe. He loosened his grip, smoothly dropping Mydei down from his perch on his elbow and resting his arm on his back, while his other arm came up to cradle his legs.

In his shock, Mydei’s breath had hitched, and he flung his arms around Phainon’s neck. Funnily enough, Hyacine had also gasped and also wanted to fling her arms around her neck.

Phainon had Mydei in a princess carry.

“...I thought you were going to drop me.”

“I’d ne’er drop you, Dei,” Phainon crooned, cuddling him closer to his chest, to which Mydei only gave an exasperated sigh.

“Aren’t you holding me a bit too intimately?” His voice was no longer flustered, only deadpan, as though he knew that there was no point in trying to get his words through the other man’s thick skull.

“Mmmm, no.” Phainon giggled, nuzzling Mydei’s hair and grinning dopily like a teenager with a crush. “‘m holdin’ you like a… like a bride. Pretty bride.”

Hyacine thought he was rather embarrassing for a man of his status. She remained silent. After all, Mydei seemed to appreciate his words, seeing how his lips had stretched into a tiny smile of their own.

“That so?” Mydei’s cheeks were tinted pink as he spoke, but his voice was stable. “So then, where will you take this bride?”

Hyacine was beginning to think they had forgotten she was there.

“A–ah. I dunno.” Phainon mumbled, his face twisting in dismay as he continued, “I dunno where ‘m going.”

“How about to your home?” Mydei suggested softly. Perhaps the fumes from the tavern had influenced his sobriety as well.

“Oh! Good idea.”

Somehow, despite being inconvenienced by these foolish men with their awfully long strides, Hyacine was reluctant to reveal her presence by making too much noise. The moment they were sharing was far too intimate. So, she followed them quietly, taking her time to admire the wildflowers along the way for Phainon would randomly stop to introduce Mydei to a random amphora in the street.

Mydei eventually grew tired of greeting the amphorae and tucked his face into the crook of Phainon’s neck. Close enough for the fine strands to tickle his nose.

That was a fatal mistake for Hyacine.

Those snowy locks were as soft as the downy fur of a chimaera, but also as ruffled as the nest of chimaeras that Tribbie had enlisted Hyacine’s help to clean out. Eurgh, she could still remember the nip she had suffered from the particularly vicious white chimaera when she tried to lift its orange-haired mate.

“!” Mydei’s kitten-like sneeze snapped her out of her thoughts – really, was that fearsome persona just a facade to avoid people from learning just how cute the Crown Prince of Kremnos was?!

Phainon froze in his tracks.

“Mydei?! You’re... You’re sick?” There was enough sheer despair colouring his voice to dispel the cozy atmosphere they had surrounded themselves with, replacing it with a gloomy cloud of grey.

He didn’t even allow Mydei an opportunity to respond, effortlessly slinging the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes so he could fumble into his pockets and dig out his teleslate.

Hyacine was more impressed at how easily Phainon could toss Mydei around, treating such a powerful man like a damsel for him to pamper. That sounded like a line from one of Cassie’s novels.

There was an affronted grumble. “What the fuck, Deliverer, this is uncomfortable.”

But the nape of Mydei’s neck betrayed him, visibly burning bright red now that it wasn't concealed by his hair, those blond strands trailing to the ground.

“Sorry, sorry!” With one hand free, Phainon swiped and typed furiously like a man on a mission. Hyacine could only watch in morbid curiosity as he got more and more frustrated, until finally–

A shrill ringing echoed throughout the remote street. Oh. Her teleslate was illuminated, with the cheesy words ‘[Phaichan υ˶˃ ﻌ ˂˶υ]  is calling…’ blaring across the screen. What. Who had saved that as his contact name.

But Hyacine had bigger things to worry about, she realised, looking up with horror as Phainon shakily spun around to locate the noise and gave a toothy grin when he spotted her standing frozen in shock.

“Hy’cine! You came!” He jogged over, taking care not to jostle Mydei from where he was slung over Phainon’s shoulder.  “Dei’s sick.”

And then, like an excited child playing show and tell with his newest toy, he manoeuvred Mydei, who was being surprisingly agreeable with his blatant manhandling, back into the princess carry and shoved him in front of Hyacine.

Shy, golden eyes refused to acknowledge her, Mydei’s face aflame. He cleared his throat. “I’m not sick. You… have you been here the whole time?”

“I’m the one who called you here, Mydei.”

“Ah.”

“Heal him please!” Phainon said, his lower lip wobbling as he pushed Mydei further forward.

“Um… he’s healed!” It was the trick Hyacine used with the little kids in the Garden of Life, who cried and screamed whenever they tripped over an unsuspecting chimaera and bruised their little egos. She waved her hands around, trying to appear like a mystical and powerful witch, and then finished with a little ‘Poof!’ noise, her hands ballooning out in front of Mydei’s face.

Mydei, who was staring at her in disbelief. Bold behaviour for a man in a princess carry.

Drunk Phainon was not so different to a child it seemed, for Hyacine’s little display appeased his worries, and he ceased his warbling.

He pulled Mydei back and hugged him close, squealing a triumphant, “Yay!”

Then, he slid his hands under Mydei’s shoulders and lifted him high in the sky to spin him around gleefully, like the man was a disgruntled cat. “Now home!”

“HKS, put me down!”

“Pretty… my pretty.” Mydei was back in the princess carry, and this time, Phainon was chewing on the neat little braid on the side of his face. Little Ica would be proud.

Hyacine tried not to smile as Mydei shot her a pleading look over Phainon’s shoulder, held captive in the man’s arms as he marched away.

Sure, Hyacine could try and save him – Aquila knows he’d need it, for Phainon was heading in the direction of the baths – but she was still a little bit miffed that he’d completely forgotten she was there. Even if it was because he was distracted by an overly excitable dog.

Although, deep down, she wasn’t really mad. She was starting to find their sappy exchanges endearing.

“You have a good evening, Miss Hyacine!” Called out the last of her attendants as they gathered their stuff to leave for the night.

The day had been a peaceful one, all the way up until Parting Hour, wherein the only disturbance had been a minor accident with a dromas out by Kephale plaze. Hyacine used the relaxed atmosphere as a chance to clean up slowly for once, and actually allow herself to organise her medical cart neatly for once.

Scissors and tools in the top compartment, locked behind a simple key; painkillers and medicines in the middle, clearly labelled to avoid any mixup; the bandages were in the larger section at the bottom, where she could easily grab them and dress any wound.

From behind, there was a discordant belch as Ica finished munching away at dinner.

Deeper within, the medical bay was in pristine condition, fully stocked and neatly cleaned. Floors swept, beds made, patients looked after. Everything was sanitised. Everything was neat. Everything was perfect.

 Ica even let out a special happy trill, one that they normally only made around–

CRASH!

– Mydei.

“Ow.”

Oh dear. That didn’t sound good.

Hyacine hurried over to the noise, noting with dread how it had come from near her freshly organised medical cart. She moved faster.

But, it was fruitless.

Her cart was tipped on its side and laid to rest in a bed of unravelled bandages, stained different colours from her saline solutions and tinctures.  Luckily, the locked drawer hadn’t opened, so the sheepish man sprawled in the centre of the mess had not been impaled on a pair of scissors.

Mydei sat there, awkwardly blinking up at Hyacine with his eyes wide and his robe slipping off his shoulder. Ica floated around him cheerfully, shoving at him with full force and causing him to sway slightly more than he already was.

She should be furious. Hyacine had spent so much precious time sorting that cart, it was her pride and joy. But, seeing his face, despondent and confused like a kitten, she couldn’t bring herself to anger.

“Mydei? What are you doing here?” Hyacine reached down to right the cart, and started trying to salvage what she could of the chaos. “Are you injured?”

“Juice.” A petulant mumble.

“Eh? Juice? Are you thirsty?”

“Juice tasted funny.”

The evening breeze shifted direction, wafting towards Hyacine a subtle scent of grapes.

She leaned in closer to Mydei.

His eyes were watery and his movements sluggish, while a thin layer of sweat covered him in a rosy glow. He was drunk. Of course he was drunk! It was not like the Titans to give Hyacine a peaceful day, she should have known better.

Luckily, Mydei appeared to be a docile drunk – rather than being overly aggressive or weepy, his brow was pinched as he focussed his attention on trying to pick up a bandage. Unfortunately, his motor skills were lacking, and he keeled over in silence, blinking slowly with a bewildered frown.

Hyacine sighed. She had her work cut out for her.

“Ica, could you help me please?” She asked, and the little pegasus chirped. Using their hidden strength, Mydei was lifted from his slump on the floor, still blinking and confused, and then deposited on an empty kline.

And then, to stop him from getting up and causing any more trouble, Ica plopped down and Mydei’s lap like a rotund paperweight. Mydei only let out a quiet exhale, cradling them closer like a baby.

At least he didn’t have a penchant for moving around much at this time – normally, Mydei would be fast asleep, only to be roused by Phainon to bathe. Hyacine had seen it all too often – the white-haired man tugging him along while half asleep, a bounce in his step to contrast Mydei’s dragging footsteps.

Speaking of footsteps, the smeared medicines and ointments on the floor, in the shape of the Kremnoan’s boots, would need to be replaced. It seemed that in the end, Hyacine was not able to escape restocking her supplies.  

“Deliverer.”

The girl whirled around in surprise, expecting to see the man himself standing in the doorway. But there was no one.

She turned back. Mydei’s attention, which had previously been so consumed in twiddling his fingers in front of Ica’s face and prodding their plush stomach, was now on her, and he was… pouting.

“What?” Hyacine asked.

Mydei swallowed, and slurred out the next words in a sullen voice. “Call… call Deliverer.”

“Oh. Ok.” She should have known, the two came in a packaged set. One could never find Phainon without his Mydei and vice versa, or however Cassie liked to phrase it in her little notebook.

Hyacine did as she was asked, and pulled her teleslate out of her pocket. She had to scroll a little to find his contact, and her face twisted in a grimace when she saw his contact name, but she pressed dial and waited for the call to go through.

A moment later, Phainon’s puzzled voice played through the speakers. “Hyacine? What’s up?”

“Come to the clinic.”

“Oh? Do you need my help?”

“Mydei’s–”

There was a clatter through the call, and a hurried, “I’m on my way!” before the call was cut.

It truly was impressive to see just how hopeless that man was for to Mydei. All anyone had to do was bring up the prince’s name, and Phainon’s ears would perk up like he had just heard a crucial detail to attack in a debate.

In fact, Hyacine mused, you probably didn’t even have to bring up Mydei's name. Phainon would inevitably derail any conversation into an ode to his muse’s greatness.

The muse in question was still sat on Hyacine’s kline, and he interrupted her thoughts with a short, “I like Deliverer.”

“Yeah?” Hyacine chuckled, feeling more optimistic now that her cart was slowly returning to its previous glory. “I’m pretty confident that Lord Phainon likes you, too.”

‘Like’ was an understatement – the man was infatuated.

Mydei wavered in his seat and his cheeks tinged pink, even as he held firm eye contact and frowned as though Hyacine had misunderstood him. “I want to have his babies.”

“How about we stop talking for a bit.”

She wanted to leave the conversation at that, preferably with no discussions of what Mydei wanted to do with Phainon or what he wanted Phainon to do with him.

But then, Hyacine watched in horror as Mydei's eyes grew wet, and tears began slipping down his cheeks. It was the first time she had ever seen the man cry, and she dearly hoped it would be the last, rushing to his side to comfort him with a hug.

“He doesn’t want me.” Mydei mumbled, lifting his gauntlet-covered hand to wipe at his eyes. Hyacine caught it before it could land, and sat beside him to unclasp the weapons.

Then, his words caught up to her, and she looked up sharply. “Why would you think that?”

“Earlier, in the city.” Mydei whispered, “He looked… uncomfortable when Krateros called us friends.”

That sounded completely absurd. From what Hyacine knew of Phainon, he would take every opportunity possible to emphasise his special bond with the Kremnoan, be it by sidling up to him in the streets, dragging him off to the baths and even playing house with him when he caught Mydei humouring the city's children.

He was an even stauncher defendant of Mydei's honour. There were numerous times when a reactionary elder had cruel words to say about the Kremnoan detachment, and even crueler words for their prince, only to be coldly shut down by an enraged Phainon. Titans, the man had defended Mydei's honour within days of the Kremnoan alliance with Okhema; by now, he was surely as close as family to many of Mydei's people.

“I’m certain he didn’t mean it that way.” Hyacine spoke kindly, but firmly. Truly, there was no way she could let Mydei believe such disheartening assumptions. “Lord Phainon’s become so much happier ever since you arrived.”

And if that wasn't the most beautiful aspect of their newfound relationship.

Phainon was the Deliverer, and though he bore his duty with strength, always vowing to fulfill the wishes of those around him, he was a man so accustomed to giving and giving parts of himself to others until their desires were quenched but he himself was left empty.

What good was a pillar, standing tall and strong, if its foundations were crumbling at the base?

Yet despite the efforts of Hyacine and all the other Chrysos heirs over the years in trying to share some of Phainon's burden, trying to alleviate some of his pain, none of them lived up to what Mydei had accomplished in mere months.

They had disagreements, sure. Mydei was not perfect, he had his own share of flaws. But he was what Phainon needed – rational, ambitious, strong, equal. It was as though he was the final piece of the puzzle, for with Mydei around, Phainon started letting himself live for himself, rather than just for others.

“On the phone, I heard him drop everything to come running as soon as I mentioned your name.” Hyacine let out a little laugh, standing up to place Mydei's gauntlets on a shelf. “Everyone in Okhema sees how you feel; honestly, I'm a little surprised you guys are still dancing around each other so much.”

Mydei’s tears had stopped, and he watched Hyacine with a hazy focus, looking as though he were drifting on the edge of sleep. Paired with his scrunched nose, red and stuffy from crying, he looked impossibly young. Finally, he said, “Kremnoan dances involve swords.”

Hyacine patted him on the head. “That’s nice.”

“I like sharing my culture with my loved ones.” With that, Mydei blinked once, slowly, looking directly into Hyacine’s eyes.

That man… truly, part of the Top Ten Most Beautiful Faces of Amphoreus. No, he should be part of the Top Ten Most Adorable Faces of Amphoreus – how could such a tenacious warrior be capable of possessing such unknowing charm?

“Mydei!”

CRASH!

It seemed to happen in slow motion. First the collision, a bumbling man too flustered to have put on his coat and only clothed in his black undershirt and trousers, versus her beloved medicine cart. Then, the fall, as the cart tipped on its wheels and steadily made contact with the floor. As it fell, the bandages, which Hyacine had painstakingly rerolled, dropped once more. She watched in dismay as her hard work was once again ruined.

“Hyacine! I'm here! Is Mydei–”

Phainon doubled over, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath. His face was all blotchy from physical exertion – he seemed to have sprinted to the medical bay – and he looked even more dishevelled than usual with his pinched brow and fearful eyes.

But then, that fear burned away upon catching sight of Mydei’s tear-tracked face, to be replaced with white hot rage. Hyacine could count on her hands the number of times she had seen Phainon truly get angry – he wasn’t a pacifist, but he always seemed to maintain his cool when faced with opposition.

For Mydei, however, he let go of his control.

Shaking hands reached up to tenderly cradle Mydei’s face, thumbs rubbing away the marks of his distress as Phainon tilted his gaze up for golden eyes to meet blue. “Who made you cry?”

“You're here… for me?” Mydei’s voice was breathy and awestruck, like he finally understood the reality of the man’s affections for him.

“Who else? Now, tell me.”

Under Phainon’s attentive gaze, Mydei seemed to preen, letting out a pleased little noise. His plush lips parted, and he let out a shaky exhale as he stared hungrily at Phainon’s mouth without properly registering what he was trying to ask. Perhaps the rumours about the Kremnoans were true – Mydei looked like he wanted to eat the man up.

But he could do that in the safety of his own home.

Hyacine breathed a conspicuous cough, and Phainon spared her a distracted glance. Mydei did not even pretend to care.

“Mydei’s drunk. I think he–” Hyacine began, but a panicked shout cut her off.

“Drunk?! Mydei doesn’t drink!”

Would it be so hard to let Hyacine finish speaking before jumping into guard dog mode? Certainly, his concern was admirable, but he was directing his worries at the wrong person! Hyacine’s smile twitched, and her calm physician’s persona nearly cracked.

But then, he revealed himself, a beacon of hope in the sea of overprotective… Rivals? Partners? Lovers?  

Mydei reached up an unsteady hand, looped his fingers in Phainon’s choker, and yanked him down to eye level. Then, while Phainon was distracted by his bare fingers touching his skin, Mydei flicked him on the forehead. “Down, boy. Let her speak.”

Hyacine was flattered that he was defending her freedom of speech, but Mydei’s lidded eyes and ravenous expression suggested that he had an ulterior motive for his actions. Golden eyes, still dazed from the influence of alcohol, followed as a bead of sweat rolled down a pale neck to slip below a black choker. Mydei licked his lips.

Hyacine needed them out of her clinic.

“I think he drank from the wrong cup and picked up some wine. He mentioned his juice tasting funny.”

Before Phainon had a chance to spiral about Mydei’s drink being spiked or tampered with, or to come up with some unfounded accusation of a conspiracy against the Kremnoan prince brewing within the bowels of Okhema, Hyacine quickly continued.

“Anyways, I still need to clear up for the night, so can you take him home, please?” She paused, then added on. “His home, not yours.”

Phainon had been freed from the earlier hold and was no longer tugged forward at Mydei’s level. Instead, he stood upright, a hand toying absently with Mydei’s earlobe and causing the man to hum softly like a pleased cat, muffled from where his face was buried in Phainon’s side. Phainon tilted his head in confusion. “Oh? But we live together.”

Honestly, Hyacine should have seen it sooner. She had had her suspicions upon constantly seeing the two men departing from the same quaint little cottage, tucked away in the outskirts of the city but close enough to be quick to respond to any summons. But she had just thought they were trying (and failing) to maintain a strictly physical relationship. Perhaps she was spending too much time around Castorice.

Of course, there was also the case with the baths. Every evening, Hyacine would see Phainon cajoling Mydei into accompanying him to the Marmoreal baths, looking as though the world would collapse if he did not get to bathe with the huffy Kremnoan. And then, mere hours later, she would see them return again, this time with Mydei half asleep and hanging off of Phainon’s arm.

She had never questioned why they always seemed to be coming and going together from the same direction, but maybe she should have.

“Alright, whatever, just get him home safe.” Hyacine tried not to sound too stern – she wasn’t trying to play the protective friend, especially not with Phainon, the boy she practically saw as her brother, but Mydei was in a vulnerable state, and the evening had brought about some surprising realisations for Hyacine on how Mydei’s inner thoughts functioned.

“Not to worry, the prince is safe with me!” Phainon chirped as he grabbed Mydei by the hand to pull him to his feet.

The sudden change in stance caused Mydei to stumble, dazed as he was from his revelations of the night. But it didn't take him long to right himself against Phainon, and Hyacine watched him rub his cheek against a firm shoulder and attach himself to Phainon's arm with a satisfied, “Hmph.”

Such close proximity to the object of his affections was making steam come out of Phainon's ears, blood rushing to his face as he tried not to stare at the lustful eyes boring into him from his charge. Phainon carried on dutifully, guiding Mydei along with his solid grip around his arm.

They took a slow and shaky step forward. Then another. Mydei slipped on his third one and crashed into Phainon, narrowly avoiding knocking him over if it weren't for Phainon's immovable strength. Another step. And another.

It seemed that Mydei's second stumble was the final straw for Phainon, and Hyacine watched with morbid curiosity as the man stopped in his tracks, with Mydei still wrapped around his arm like a limpet, and tried to wrench that trapped limb free.

It didn't take him much strength, limp as Mydei was under the influence, but Phainon stuttered in his actions when the blond whined at the loss of his arm support.

Not for long though – with a flourish, Phainon wrapped an arm around his waist and swept Mydei up in a princess carry again, earning him a wide-eyed look and a delighted coo that caused him to cough in order to hide his embarrassment.

“Hmm, strong.” Mydei commented while squeezing the taut muscles under his hands, like he was appraising a prize bull and not Okhema's ‘Great Deliverer’. Then, he leaned in closer until his nose was almost touching the other man's. “Phainon.”

Phainon was going cross-eyed from how hard he was trying to maintain eye contact despite how close their faces were together, and Hyacine watched in amusement as he refused to let his gaze drop down to Mydei's chest, where his chiton had fallen open and dark brown nipples peeked through Still, he swallowed down his desire, and stared resolutely forward. “Ah, yes, Mydei?”

“I want to have your babies.”

Oh.

“Oh.” Phainon squeaked.

“I can give you strong children.” Mydei dropped his head onto Phainon's shoulder, and his golden eyes looked up at him temptingly through long, wispy lashes. “Our babies would be some of the fiercest warriors under Kephale's gaze.”

At those words, Phainon whipped his head round to shoot Hyacine a desperate look, pleading for her to save him, but– oh, what was that? A speck of dust on the windowsill? Wow, she really wanted to help Phainon out but she really couldn't, not with that miniscule speck terrorising her medical bay!

She chuckled to herself as she picked up a duster and started working on the windowsills. Finally, payback for all the times he would act like an idiot after seeming to forget Hyacine was even there.

Then, she heard a dejected sigh. “Uh, I’m sure they would be.”

Mydei was silent. Hyacine snuck a glance in the reflection of the window, and she saw how his lips were pursed in an unhappy frown. “You don’t believe me.”

He spoke like it was a statement, not a question; as though he believed Phainon found it inconceivable that Mydeimos the Undying, the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos, would be able to bear his progeny and ensure their tenacity.

“Of course I believe you.” Phainon flailed in response, desperately trying not to upset the man in his arms, but even he could not satisfy Mydei's wishes for his next words were–

“Then why haven’t you knocked me up yet?”

Mydei pinched Phainon's pale cheek. Then, like a neglected wife, his eyes welled up with tears again, and Mydei slumped against his chest to whine and sob about how ‘mistreated he was by the one man worthy of laying with him’, and how if Phainon ‘refused to mount and breed him in good time, they would struggle to have the large family he dreamed of’. Or something like that.

“...”

“A–ah, sorry about that.” That pathetic dog, he barely even spared Hyacine a glance before he sped off into the night, precious cargo in his arms.

Hyacine didn't have it in her to be offended. Instead, she was feeling over the realisation that, maybe, Mydei was the more shameless of the two men.

Titans, what a surprise.

Somehow, she could sense his arrival long before the dreaded sight of that white tuft of hair could be spotted through her dustless windows.

For once, Hyacine was not clearing up for the day – she hummed mindlessly to herself as she prepared her instruments and set out her tools for the day, still drowsy from waking up early within Entry Hour.

She had had a terrifying dream the night before, in which she was playing with a ginger chimaera in the Garden of Life, and petting its soft coat with adoring hands. It lay docile beside her, grooming its white haired baby with a little pink tongue and occasionally cooing in joy when the baby licked its mother in a clumsy kiss.

But then, right as Hyacine was about to lift the baby chimaera into her lap, its larger father, fur the same pale hue as the pup, came chasing after her, awooing in outrage and nipping at her heels.

Then she woke up, breath leaving her in short exhales, and Hyacine knew that something big was to happen that very day.

“Hey there, Miss Medical Assistant,” came a familiar voice, and lo and behold, there he was. So it had begun. “Would you like some pastries?”

Phainon opened up a huge wicker basket to reveal a treasure trove of baked goods – warm, fluffy honey cakes, steaming to the touch; a wobbly galaktoboureko with a beautiful golden glaze; heaps of kataifi rolls drizzled with honey and almonds; there was truly no end to the plethora of desserts.

As her assistant took her pick, Hyacine zeroed in on how Phainon was carrying himself, his eyes twinkling and his whole form appearing to glow with joy. He could not have made those pastries, so perhaps he had bought them from a stall down in the market? But no, they looked too fresh, and no stall would be open at this hour to sell so many goods.

“Hey there, Hyacine, sorry to barge in so early!” Phainon said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly and ducking slightly as he entered the medical bay.

He stepped forward, about to offer some sweets to Hyacine, and then stopped. Rightfully, so. Before speaking to her, he must first quench the beast.

“Oh, Ica, Mydei baked you a whole cart of treats. I left them outside.”

All they saw was a blur of white and a happy trill, followed by a… horrifying crunching sound. At least Ica enjoyed the pastries.

Plus, that solved the mystery of where Phainon had sourced the food – it seemed he had enlisted Mydei's help to prepare these snacks – but, it failed to answer why exactly Phainon had approached the medical bay so early in the day.

Hyacine watched the man suspiciously as she reached a hand into the basket (should she try one of the flaky kataifi rolls? Oh, but the honey cakes looked so good!) and took out a pastry. Phainon’s smile, unassuming and relaxed, did not betray any malicious intent behind the sudden snack run.

But the problem was, Phainon as especially skilled at hiding secrets behind those chirpy smiles, and Hyacine could remember countless times from their time at the Grove when he would take the fall for someone’s stupid experiment, only because no one could truly stay mad at that puppy-like grin.

Hyacine had to stay vigilant. Tensely, she took a bite from the honey cake.

Oh, wow. Maybe Aquila hadn’t forsaken them. They had just chosen to show themselves through Mydei’s baking.

“Mydei and I got married!”

No, actually, Aquila had forsaken them

The half-eaten honey cake fell to the floor, bouncing lightly before it was consumed by a ravenous Ica. Hyacine paid it no mind.

“What?!” She shrieked, and finally she could relish in the shock on Phainon’s face at her true feelings escaping her mask of a calm demeanour, as her face twisted into one of utter horror and her hands flew up to grasp onto the front Phainon’s coat.

Phainon didn’t let that display stop him however, being only mildly stunned before carrying on in a carefree voice. “Well, the Kremnoan way, not the Okheman way. Aglaea would have our heads if we didn’t let her help organise.”

Not just Aglaea. Castorice would be outraged if she didn’t get to witness their union, and Hyacine didn’t sit back and watch them fool around with each other like a useless pair of idiots for nothing!

“According to Mydei, Kremnoan marriages are a bond for life!” Phainon said, and Hyacine slowly loosened her grip on his coat. She shouldn’t have gotten him started. “He said that once we’re married, he’ll have to break every bone in my body if I even think about leaving him.”

The serious expression on Phainon’s face could have convinced Hyacine that the story was absolute truth, seeing as how the Deliverer never told falsehoods about the Kremnoan culture, for fear of displeasing his… spouse.

But, Hyacine could distinctly recall treating a Kremnoan woman in her clinic for a mild headache, who blamed it all on her “ridiculous third husband, refusing to die honorably on the battlefield so I can move on to the next!”

Eh, no point bringing it up, Hyacine thought, and she picked up another pastry.

Phainon dropped the hamper of goods onto a table and settled down onto a kline, with the air of gravitas of an old man preparing to tell his grandkids all about his beloved. “First, we had to duel until we each drew blood. Titans, that took some time…” He broke off into a wistful sigh, staring dreamily into the distance for a moment, before continuing. “Then, we had to mix our blood in a chalice and offer it to Nikador.”

Honestly, it wasn’t hard for Hyacine to picture the scene: Phainon kneeling with his head in Mydei’s lap like a loyal dog, agreeing to whatever Kremnoan custom or ritual he wished for with  a blissful “Yes, dear.” and his dopey puppy eyes hazy with adoration – the indomitable Deliverer was a beast on the battlefield, but an absolute tool for Mydei.

“And then, we made love all night long.”

“You didn’t have to tell me that, Phainon.”

Phainon pouted, “No, but I did.” He really didn’t. “A good husband does whatever his wife wants. And, I have discovered that my beautiful wife wants children.”

Aquila smite them all, Hyacine wanted this man out of her clinic at once. Perhaps she should relocate, take up office in the isolated Sky Castrum. Hyacine firmly believed that if Lady Seliose had had to deal with Phainon and his antics, she’d have lost her humanity far quicker.

“Come on, for old times sake? We can get the whole Grove trio back together, I’m sure Cas and Professor Anaxa would be willing to help us find a way.” Phainon was trying to hit her with his pleading eyes again, but Hyacine was finding herself more and more immune as time passed.

She had no doubt that Castorice would be more than happy to help, and Professor Anaxa would help out solely for the aim of conducting research into new and taboo areas.

But, Hyacine had a job! She had some dignity!

But, Hyacine thought, looking at her old classmates face, I really do love them.

For all her annoyance at his actions, and her dismay at the couple leaving her medical bay a mess, Hyacine couldn’t help but think back to that cheeky boy from the Grove, always throwing classes in disarray with his probing words that forced people to think, to feel.

Old bonds run deep, and she felt hit by all those memories of the past: sharing snacks at lunch in the Grove; coming to Okhema with nothing but determination in their hearts and their meagre supplies; working hard to be seen as a symbol of hope amidst the encroaching black tide.

Phainon had lost far too much, and yet he stayed strong. Mydei too, had lived a life of suffering and risen above it despite it all. Truly, they deserved peace.

Hyacine smiled. “I’m happy for you, Phainon.”

Phainon looked up at her, his big blue eyes wide and joyful. A puppy as always.

“Thanks, Hyacine.”

Ica was hungry. The man with white hair had brought some good food some time ago. So, Ica had waited until work was over to flutter over to the man’s house and float outside his window. Perhaps he would give Ica food.

The faint sound of skin slapping echoed from inside the room, peppered with quiet groans and muffled whimpers that sounded as though they were being buried into a pillow. Ica could also hear the slight rustle of bedsheets, as though they were crinkling in a tight fisted grip, and peeked inside the room. Were they kneading dough for bread?

No. Ica was disappointed. It seemed they were mating.

The man Ica had followed was mounting another man– wait! That was the man! Who baked the goods! Ica would wait for them to finish and ask for more.

“Come on, say it again.” The white haired man cooed into the blond man’s ear, curled over him as his hips continued to pound into his bed mate's prone figure beneath. The blond was splayed on his front and arching into his thrusts with aggrieved moans, as though he was being overwhelmed with sensation.

They looked like the chimaeras in spring, the blond’s knees slipping in the sheets from where he was being pinned to the bed by the weight of his mate, his tattooed thighs quaking and trembling with the onslaught of pleasure.

“N–no,” Blond hair shifted as the man shook his head petulantly, refusing to answer. In response, the white haired man angled his hips and moved faster, firmer, harsher.  “Fuck, Phai… Phainon! you're… you're too– ah! – deep!”

He tried to crawl away, hands reaching desperately in front of him, but it was in vain – Phainon tugged him back with a firm grip on his hips and a lustful chuckle.

“Heh, you're too cute like this, Mydei.” Phainon punctuated his words with a few slow, hard thrusts, shoving Mydei’s head into the pillow when his thrashing shrieks became too loud.

Ica didn’t need to see this. But, food.

Their position shifted as Phainon lifted himself up from being plastered to Mydei’s back, and he slowed his hips to stroke a tender hand down the length of his spine, allowing the man beneath him a moment of reprieve to wheeze into the sheets and catch his breath.

“Honey, I’ve had a great day today.” Phainon said, moving his hands to knead at the blond’s waist.

Teary golden eyes met blue as Mydei turned his head to speak to his husband. Yes, Ica knew they were married now. Ica knew all about Kremnoan customs of old. Ica knew far more than people thought.

“Y–yeah?” Mydei panted, his disoriented expression fading in favour of offering the man behind him a loving smile, while he reached back to squeeze one of the hands on his waist. “What– uhn–!”

It seemed that the sight of his face was enough to spur Phainon back into action, for his face took on a frenzied expression and he pulled Mydei back onto his cock with vigour.

“Wait– oh!” The man tried to say, “Let me speak, HKS!”

At that, Phainon pulled out completely, eliciting a wounded yelp from the man beneath him, only to manhandle him onto his back with ease and push back in with a pleased sigh, like he had returned home after years at war.

Ica wanted food. They were taking too long.

Phainon brought a hand up to cup Mydei’s breast, thumbing over his nipple while continuing his shallow thrusts. “Ask me nicely.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Mydei averted his eyes and said, “...husband. P–please.”

His thighs, bracketing his husband’s trunk, pressed the man closer, and Phainon dropped to his forearms either side of Mydei’s face.

“Yes, my darling?” He crooned, lacing their fingers together to press their joined hands to his lips, and earning himself a little scoff. Mydei brought him into a hug with shaky arms, reaching up to pet those snowy locks.

In Ica’s opinion, Phainon’s hair might taste like phyllo dough.

The atmosphere in the bedroom shifted, and suddenly it felt more domestic and loving instead of the haze of passion previously suffocating the air. Mydei placed a sweet kiss to his husband’s temple.

“What did you…” He let out a gasp as Phainon snapped his hips forward teasingly, before resuming the more placid rhythm. “What did you do today?”

“I had a bit of a school reunion.” The white haired man trailed his fingers down to Mydei’s stomach, petting the soft flesh there with thinly veiled lust as he rocked his hips forward in a few sloppy thrusts.

Then, before Mydei had a chance to say anything more, his lips were claimed in a wet and messy kiss, so all-consuming that he couldn’t even part for some much needed air.

When they finally separated, a thread of saliva connecting their swollen mouths, Phainon wasted no time in lifting Mydei’s thighs to his shoulders, forcing himself deeper into the man’s pliant body. With one hand, he pinned both of Mydei’s above his head to hold him in place, while his other hand remained on Mydei’s lower abdomen.

Then, he pressed that hand down, shoving his cock as deep as possible into Mydei and groping at it through the barrier of Mydei’s stomach.

Mydei wailed.

He kicked his feet uselessly, squealing and begging for Phainon to give him a break, to give him just a moment, only for his pleas to fall on deaf ears as Phainon continued plowing into the mess between his legs. Mydei’s eyes were glossy and clouded over, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks being refreshed with each new wave spilling from those golden pools.

“You wanted a baby, right, honey?” Phainon huffed out, voice taut with exertion from having to hold Mydei down amidst his thrashing. He was barely audible over the sound of Mydei’s yowling, but he dropped down to whisper right in his bedmate’s ear. “Let’s make one tonight.”

Ica was probably not going to get food today. Ica would have to munch on titankin instead. Hand in hand, creation and destruction.