Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Phainon and Cyrene are walking home from lessons when Phainon nearly trips over his own feet, stunned at what he sees in the distance.

“Who's that?”

“Hmm?”

His sister follows his gaze down to the boats at the dock, where a whole bunch of people are painting faces onto their wooden sides. Well, not faces. Just one.

He can't tear his eyes away from it.

“Dunno,” Cyrene replies. “Maybe the fishermen's new mascot?”

“You think they'd draw a fish,” Phainon hums, barely even blinking.

“Maybe they just thought to draw someone cute,” Cyrene says. He absently nods along. “He looks like someone from a story.”

“Actually, he's the king of the Sea of Souls,” a voice proudly proclaims behind them.

Phainon almost jumps on reflex when he sees Myron behind him, smiling wide. “The king?” Phainon repeats, hoping and praying that Myron doesn't point out his flinch.

“Yep!” Myron confirms, triumphantly lifting his chin like he was the king. “Haven't seen the guy, but apparently he rescued my dad when he and his crew got swept off-course. And a bunch of other people too, according to the rumors that Nefeli brings from other villages!”

“Wow!” Cyrene exclaims, clapping her hands together.

“Wow,” Phainon also says. In Cyrene’s stories, kings were always so imposing, gruff, and, well, old. The king of the Sea of Souls was none of those things– apparently, he had a soft face and hair like a flame.

“So we're painting him on the sides of all our boats for good luck,” Myron explains, pointing to his family vessel. That made sense. “Hopefully, the king will bless us in our fishing endeavors.”

“How are you sure he's king?” Phainon asks. “Don't kings live in castles and stuff?” At least, that's where they lived according to Cyrene’s stories.

Myron giggles. “They say that all the scary monsters and creatures of the Sea kneel in his presence,” he says, like he's sharing some great gossip.

“Do they?” Phainon asks, deeply curious. Could someone so pretty be so intimidating?

“Yeah, ‘cause he's pummeling them,” Myron laughs. “They also say that he walks on water, talks with ghosts, and can control the skies above the Sea.”

“Can he?” Cyrene asks, eyes alight.

Myron leans in to ruffle both of their heads. “If I meet him on our next outing, I'll definitely ask.”

“Ooh, ooh, ask his name too,” Cyrene says, tugging at Myron's sleeve. “And his age. He looks too young to be a king!”

“Of course!”

If he got those sea monsters to kneel to him, he must be strong too. “And ask him how he can pummel stuff!”

“It's because he eats all his vegetables,” Myron says, sagely. Phainon and Cyrene make faces at the man, and he laughs in reply. “Alright, don't pout at me, I'll ask. You kids should head home soon– the light's fading fast!”

“Okaaay,” Phainon and Cyrene chorus. Right, mom was making fish soup for dinner– he couldn't wait!

As he and his sister leave, Phainon's eyes linger on the painting for a moment longer. People in real life didn't look the way that this supposed king did. Maybe Cyrene was right– maybe the king of the Sea of Souls did leap from the pages of a story.

…Or so he thinks.

A few days later, the king is brought to their village. The real flesh-and-blood king!

Okay, Phainon doesn't actually see it happen, as he's training in the fields with his father, but he can hear the tittering of the villagers who run by, eager to see the boy. Apparently he saved Myron and the rest from certain death. And brought back a massive tentacle as proof. And he was going to be staying for awhile!

“Focus, son,” his father scolds him, tapping him gently on the head with the blunt head of his wooden sword. “You can go make friends with the boy later.”

“I am focused!” Phainon protests, though his mind is miles away. He wants to run to the town square like everyone else and take a look.

“Uh-huh.”

They practice a few more hits on the training dummy before Phainon gets distracted again.

“Do you think the king is good at sword fighting?” He asks. “He's a king, so he must be, right?”

“Mm, I haven't met him, so who's to say?”

“And do you think he likes to play?” Phainon continues, whacking away at the dummy. “Is our village gonna be fancy enough for him? Do you think he'll be nice? I hope he's nice. Does he only eat fish? We fish up a lot of fresh catches.”

“You can ask him your questions yourself,” his father laughs, staring off at something over Phainon's shoulder. “Dont look now, but he's coming our way.”

Of course, Phainon immediately looks and fumbles his grip on the sword while he does so. No way. No way!

Like his dad said, the supposed king is approaching them…! But how? Why? And why is he holding hands with Cyrene, that's not fair! How could Cyrene meet him first when she was supposed to be helping mom out at home?

The king lifts his gaze and on instinct, Phainon drops his.

Oh, wow.

Wow.

Phainon's never really understood those romantic stories that Cyrene loves to read. How could time slow down when you look at someone? And why would your heart skip a beat? More than that, how could the sight of a single person steal your breath away? Like, go to a healer if that happens to you!

He thinks he gets it now.

The king looks exactly how he was depicted on the side of their boats– extraordinarily cute. So so charming. Especially now that Phainon's seeing him in person. Sharp golden eyes, crimson tattoos, a presence that suited one called a king, even though he looked so young…

“Oh wow,” Phainon says. If you told him that this boy was king of the entirety of Amphoreus, he'd believe it. There was just something about him that Phainon couldn't explain with words alone!

And then he realizes something.

“Gods, I can't let him see me like this,” Phainon says, face flushing. What should he do? Should he pretend like he hasn't seen them? Should he run over and say hi? “How's my hair? Am I sweating? Do I smell bad?”

Instead of being helpful, his father bursts out laughing.

“Daaad! I'm serious!” Phainon protests, staring down at himself and praying that there isn't any sweat stains. How could he possibly show up in front of a king looking the way that he does? He's never been more nervous in his life– not when he had to deliver a speech in front of his whole class, nor when he had to be Cyrene’s assistant for the ceremonies at harvest– he's going to explode!

“Just play it cool,” his father finally recommends.

So Phainon plays it cool. As cool as he can, anyway. He's totally sweating and he's somehow missing a still target, but he's so cool.

And then a set of footsteps pauses behind him. Phainon turns around with his brightest smile and–

“Ehh?”

It's just Cyrene. Phainon wilts.

“Don't look so excited to see me,” Cyrene laughs, noting his clear disappointment. He ignores his sister's teasing to stare past her shoulder– Ehh?! The king's going in the opposite direction!

“Why didn't he come over?!” Phainon exclaims.

“So did you want him to see you or not?” His dad teases.

“Maybe you scared him with the way you were swinging the sword all over the place,” Cyrene theorizes, dodging Phainon's elbow. “No, he told me he's shy. Don't take it personally, Phainon.”

Shy?

Phainon clenches a determined fist. He made friends with all of the village children– he could almost certainly make friends with a shy king! And then maybe they could become best friends. And spar! None of the other children in the village could keep up with him in terms of strength. And then Phainon could show him all the cool spots in the village and they could fish together because he surely liked fish if he was the king of the Sea and–

“Woah, he's totally not listening to us,” Cyrene laughs, interrupting his thoughts.

“I am!”

He wants to immediately return home when Cyrene tells him that Mydei probably returned there, but relents when she reminds him that he's shy.

“The house isn't going anywhere,” his father tells him. “And neither is he.”

His father is a liar, because when they return home his mother tells them that the king jumped out of the window when he heard them approach.

“No way,” Phainon despairs. “Am I actually scary?”

Why else would he run? Ugh, Phainon knew he wasn't anything special, but was he scary too?

Now Phainon's more determined than ever to catch him and show the king just how not-scary he actually is.

.

The king's name is Mydeimos.

Mydeimos, Mydeimos, Mydeimos. What an important sounding name. It's just as regal as the boy himself.

“Mydeimos is so helpful,” Pythias says. “He helped feed my dromases the other day– can never get them to settle, but he did in a flash!”

“Mydeimos? Yeah, cute kid,” Stathis says. “Can lift every barrel off the boat without blinking. He can lift the boat, too. Totally can't tell how strong he is just by looking at his face alone.”

“I've never been more inspired to make clothes,” his mom gushes. “I hope Mydeimos knows what a wonderful muse he makes!”

The whole village is buzzing with his arrival. No one can shut up about him– Mydeimos this, Mydeimos that. Phainon can't blame them, but he can't help but feel left out– was he the only one that Mydeimos hasn't talked to normally?

“Maybe you would be able to talk to him if you weren't stalking him all the time,” Cyrene says.

“I'm not!” Phainon protests.

“We are literally watching him hook bait to a fishing lure from behind a tree,” his sister says, gesturing towards Mydeimos with a frantic hand.

“I'm behind the tree,” he points out. “You're out in the open! He's going to notice!”

“If you think that Mydeimos hasn't noticed you by now, you're wrong.”

“But,” Phainon swallows. He watches Mydei make a face at the fishermen and wants to just flop to the ground and kick his feet. He's so cute. How does he go around looking so cute?! It's actually making him mad– like Phainon actually wants to pick a fight.

“But?”

“But he always runs when I try to talk to him normally,” Phainon whines.

“Okay, so when have you tried to talk to him normally?”

Phainon remains silent and Cyrene pinches his arm.

“Ow!”

“Can you at least try to not stare at him so obviously?”

“No. I can't keep my eyes off of him,” Phainon admits.

“Wow, creepy,” Cyrene drawls.

Phainon will admit that he's being a little creepy, but... Okay, he doesn't have a defense for himself.

And he definitely doesn't have a defense for when he watches Mydeimos shoot crystals out of nowhere from afar. Nor does he have a defense for when he pockets one without talking to the boy! Or telling him!

“It's for safekeeping,” Phainon tells himself, staring after Mydeimos’ back. “It looks expensive– maybe he'll want them back? Yeah. And he might miss it.”

That's what he tells himself, anyway. And then the very next day he asks his mother to make a necklace out of the crystal.

“Oh, is this one of the crystals that Mydeimos is leaving around?” She asks, turning it over in her hands.

Phainon blinks. “You've seen it before, mom?”

“Yeah,” his mother confirms, with a little giggle. “Don't tell him, but when he can't hide his expressions, those crystals kinda pop up behind him. It leaves a cute little trail.”

“Aww, what?” Phainon groans. He wants to see that. That must be so adorable.

“Yeah, everyone here in Aedes Elysiae is picking up after him when they see the crystals,” his mom continues. “It's probably good luck to hold onto them. Phainon, silver or gold for the chain?”

“Gold,” Phainon blurts, thinking of Mydeimos’ huge eyes.

“Gold it is,” she agrees. “So you have one– does that mean you finally spoke to him instead of watching from afar?”

He sputters. “M-mom!”

His mother sighs, seeing right through him. “Ah. You didn't.”

“I just don't want to scare him,” Phainon says, even though he knows that deep down, he's the one that's scared. What if Mydeimos looks at him and sees all the things that Phainon sees in himself? He's not pretty or strong or reliable like Mydeimos is. “I want to be friends, but I don't know how…”

That boy was royalty, after all. Phainon was some no one from nowhere. He couldn't just go up to him and say hi i can't stop thinking about you, let's be friends!

His mother pats him on the head. “My son… You might be overthinking this.”

“Mooom.”

“No, I'm serious,” she says. “What if Mydeimos is waiting for you to be the one to reach out? Didn't Cyrene tell you herself that that poor boy is shy?”

“That's right,” Phainon nods his head. Oh, and now that he thinks about it, Mydeimos was always kind of flitting about whenever he and his father had swordsmanship practice… Maybe Mydeimos was waiting for an invitation, because he was too shy to reach out himself? Oh no! Phainon feels so silly!

He slaps his cheeks. Right. Phainon could be brave for Mydeimos.

So he follows him into the woods and gets a huge surprise when Mydeimos talks to him.

“I know your name,” Mydeimos tells him. Oh wow, the king knows his name. Phainon feels his heart swell. It tends to do that, in Mydeimos’ presence. “I am Mydeimos.”

Not only does his heart seem to grow, but it also does several backflips. This was going amazingly. Phainon feels so ridiculous for waiting for so long. “I know your name too! You're really popular with everyone.”

Unfortunately, it seems like Mydeimos had a huge misunderstanding about why Phainon was following him, which makes him feel even worse! He really should have just walked up to him and told him that he wanted to be friends from the start! Sure, Mydeimos can't come play right away, but of course he can't. He's gotta train for king duties. Or something. Whatever he's doing, he looks super cool doing it.

Their conversation is perfect– Mydeimos is perfect. He's so silly and cute and everything he says is said with such grace–

And then he cuts his hand.

Ah…

It's dripping gold.

He's just like me, some wretched part of Phainon croons. That same part urges him to grab Mydeimos’ wrist before he can run away.

“There, you saw it,” Mydei hisses. He's like one of those angry kittens fighting over what fish they can steal at the docks. “Happy?”

“More than you know,” Phainon breathes. It feels like his heart would sprout wings at any moment and take to the skies. Naturally, Phainon must let him know this instant that they're the same. So he too takes one of the crystals and–

Mydeimos’ face twists up. “Why did you do that?! You're not–”

Phainon doesn't end up hearing the rest of his sentence, because there's something way more important that he needs to make sure Mydeimos knows.

“Do you see?” He must know.

“I see that you're a giant HKS,” Mydeimos replies, whatever that means. Phainon will be a HKS or anything he wants, so long as he sees that he and Phainon have something special in common.

“Look at me,” he insists. For what feels like forever, Phainon felt like no one but Cyrene could understand his feelings– how could someone like him inherit such special golden blood? Even in his sister's case, she did important stuff in the village– unlike him. His parents say that he should focus on being a kid first, but…

But maybe he truly is somebody– someone significant enough to be Mydeimos’ friend.

“Mydeimos, we're the same. You're just like me…!” Phainon exclaims, feeling giddy in a way he's never felt before.

“...I know,” Mydeimos replies. He can't really tell if the king looks happy about that. He actually looks pretty overwhelmed. Well, if he lived in the Sea this whole time, he's probably never met an Heir like him. Actually, does the boy even know the significance of this?

Phainon spends a few moments longer reveling in what they share when Mydeimos speaks up.

“Have you looked enough?! It's still bleeding! Same with your cut!”

Oh, right.

“It's okay, I'll kiss it better. My parents always tell me that a kiss fixes all boo-boos,” Phainon says, and takes Mydeimos’ bleeding hand. Wow. It's softer than he expected. “Mwah!”

That took every ounce of courage that he possessed, but if it was for Mydeimos, he could do anything!

“We still need to bandage it,” the king insists, but his wound closes up right in front of their eyes. Maybe his mom was onto something when she told him about the power of love. Or maybe it was some magical Mydeimos thing?

“All better, see?” Phainon chuckles.

“That had nothing to do with you,” Mydeimos denies. “I'm built different.”

“Huh? What's that mean?”

“Anyway, we need to wrap up yours,” Mydeimos immediately changes the subject like he's embarrassed. Aww. Kissing boo-boos shouldn't be embarrassing. Never mind that Phainon was blushing– gods, he hopes that the other boy didn't see.

“Maybe you should kiss my cut better and see if you can heal mine too,” Phainon says, and then immediately thinks why did i say that. Something about Mydeimos just loosened his tongue.

“That's not going to work,” Mydeimos huffs.

“How do you know if we haven't tried?” Phainon asks, lifting his bloody palm to Mydeimos’ mouth. “Come on! Or maybe you are scared?”

“I'm going to fight you,” the king declares, and tackles him. Phainon is struck by a sudden sense of certainty– like yes, this is how it should be, and this is how it should stay. Mydeimos’ presence at Phainon's side just felt right.

.

The night before Mydeimos leaves Aedes Elysiae, Phainon rouses his sister and drags her out of the room, careful not to wake the prince as they leave.

“What?” Cyrene mumbles her confusion, sleepy from being woken so abruptly.

“I have something to announce to the family,” Phainon mutters, pulling her along. He practically kicks down the door to the courtyard in his haste, because he must tell everyone–

“I'm going to marry Mydeimos,” Phainon declares.

His mother spits out her drink and his father nearly drops his goblet on the floor, but that doesn't stop Phainon's excited ramble.

“When we grow up we're getting married,” he repeats, because he too is in disbelief. He, a simple village boy, marrying royalty? “I'm unworthy of his hand but he said we're equals so I'm gonna marry him and make him happy forever!”

Phainon has no idea what Mydeimos sees in him, but he needs to start being better so that the boy keeps seeing that worth. Who cares that Cyrene’s started laughing so hard that he's now a little worried that Mydeimos is going to wake up? He had to let his family know.

Actually, his parents are laughing too. Phainon suddenly realizes that they might not believe him– of course. He's a village boy and Mydeimos is Mydeimos. Still, he's going to do it!

“Our son's weak to cute faces,” his mother laments with a smile.

“It's not just that!” Phainon insists. Not cute faces in general. Just Mydeimos’ cute face.

“Of course, he has our permission, but… How are we going to get permission for Mydeimos’ hand?” His father asks playfully. Ugh, he can tell that his father is teasing about the last part, but ugh! Phainon hadn't considered that at all!

“Actually, courtship in Castrum Kremnos is different,” Cyrene pauses her laughter to say. “As long as Phainon proves his worth to Mydeimos himself, then it should be fine!”

Their parents stare. “How do you know that, Cyrene?”

“Hehe, I read.”

Phainon's whole family is smiling like he's told a joke, but he is deathly serious. He's never been more determined in his life. Mydeimos is just different, after all. Even when doing the most mundane things, like sharing a meal and walking down the dirt road, it all feels so special and fun just because Phainon's doing it with him.

And besides, there's a part of him that's screaming– silent but sure– that if he doesn't hold on tight to Mydeimos, he'll lose him for good.

“He's just so–” Phainon waves a hand around, as though that simple gesture could ever convey how Mydeimos makes him feel.

His parents share a look. “Alright, we hear you, Phainon. Why don't you head off to bed? You wouldn't want to miss Mydeimos’ departure.”

And so the siblings head back to bed. Cyrene falls asleep easily, but Phainon spends a good while just listening to the sound of Mydeimos’ breathing. It's soothing.

.

No words could describe the way that Phainon felt watching Mydeimos throw up the crystals for the first time in the arena. It felt like– like sparks catching flame, like the first sight of dawn– to think that the boy sitting next to them in the stands was Mydeimos all along! Yes, Mydeimos had reminded them countless times that he was shy– but was he truly too shy to say hi?

The prince was much bolder over the teleslate. Sorry. The crown prince. What a title to have! And to think that Phainon knew the curve of his smile and the sound of his footsteps and the rhythm of his breathing!

Unfortunately, Mydeimos is not as pleased to see Phainon as he is to see him, and it's all his fault. He admits it. The thought of him dying thanks to Phainon's big mouth chills him to the core.

Right.

His horrible father is still in charge of the kingdom. Phainon can't wait for that to change.

Luckily for him and his weakness to Mydeimos’ frown (and Cyrene yanking his hair), the prince forgives him easily. They all even get to share a kline! Phainon already thought that the journey to Castrum Kremnos was worth it, but now its worth had basically quadrupled.

It's very nice. Phainon's missed sleeping next to both Mydeimos and his sister. They both run cold, and he runs hot, so with this awesome weighted blanket in Mydeimos’ room, he sleeps well.

And then he

and then

then

he

Phainon drops out of a dreamless sleep into an ocean as dark as night. Somehow, he still has perfect vision in spite of the darkness. He panics for a moment, before he's made aware that this is a dream. He's had dreams like this before, ones where he became aware that this was all some make of the mind and he could control it. Cyrene tells him that they're not like her prophetic dreams, but they are just as cool, because Phainon can do things like fly in the sky or breathe underwater. He expects tonight to be much of the same, so he swims down and–

A scream leaves his lips, muffled by the water. Phainon wants to shut his eyes, but physically cannot tear his gaze away from the horrific sight before him.

An enormous pile of water-logged corpses line the seabed. The bodies are so numerous and stacked so high that Phainon can't even see the sand. And they're all, the corpses, they're all–

A sob leaves his lips.

It's all Mydeimos. Phainon's going to cry or throw up or both but he can't look away why are there so many bodies why is he dead why why?! Why is his dream showing him this?!

⟦ Why? ⟧

In front of Phainon's eyes, a glowing blue rectangle winks into existence. It's like a teleslate, almost, but Phainon can actually see through it.

⟦ Look, ⟧ a voice says. It's coming from the blue… Thing. ⟦ Look at what our inaction has done. ⟧

It's very strange. Phainon is both reading and hearing the words being spoken aloud in real time, but he can't quite focus on the strangeness right now because beneath his feet is Mydeimos and he's dead, he's dead, he's dead–

⟦ Okay, enough. ⟧

There's a sound like– like someone's snapping their fingers? And then suddenly Phainon is out of the ocean and he's nowhere at all. Like he's floating in the sky at night, with nothing but this strange blue thing keeping him company.

Phainon starts crying. No, he was already crying before, but now he's openly weeping. Mydeimos, his Mydeimos, he's so scared, he knows this is all a dream but it felt so real–

⟦ It was real. ⟧

No, no it's not, don't say that–

⟦ I am showing you this in an attempt to make you understand– even the tiniest bit– of what Mydeimos has suffered in this life so far. It's too late to prevent what already happened, ⟧ the blue thing tells him, which– what? Mydeimos was alive, he knows he is, he was just talking to him! ⟦ It's not too late, however, to prevent what could happen to him. ⟧

He takes a moment to catch his breath. He can't cry now– especially not when he was told something so ominous. “What, what does,” Phainon pauses to sniffle. “What does that mean? Why are you telling me this?”

Phainon better not have miraculously received prophetic dreams like his sister, because there was no way this was showing Mydeimos’ future…

The blue thing makes an annoyed sound. ⟦ Not future. Past. This already happened. Didn't I say so? ⟧

“W-what?” Wait. Was this thing reading his mind?

⟦ …We'll go in circles forever at this rate. Fine. I'll get to the point. ⟧

⟦ I showed you something you actively fear for a reason, Phainon. This is a warning. ⟧

⟦ If you don't change the future, Mydeimos will die. ⟧

…What?

The blue rectangles multiply, faster and faster now.

⟦ I'm getting ahead of myself. Mydeimos won't be the first to go. ⟧

⟦ First, it'll be your mother. ⟧

⟦ Then, the rest of your village. All your little friends, and their families. ⟧

⟦ Of course, your father and the rest of the hunters will put up a fight, but they'll be killed, too. ⟧

⟦ Your precious sister won't be spared either. No one will be, save for you. ⟧

Phainon's hearing and reading the words, but not understanding them. No, that's not right. He understands just fine, but the message they're conveying is so unbelievable that he's having a hard time wrapping his brain around them.

⟦ You can choose to not believe me if you want, ⟧ the rectangle reads. ⟦ Just know that you'll regret it dearly if you do. ⟧

He swallows. “So you're,” Phainon pauses to try and hold back his tears, “giving me a prophecy, then? Are you Oronyx?”

⟦ Ha. ⟧

⟦ No, but if it makes it easier for you to believe me, then sure. I'll be Oronyx. ⟧

Okay, Phainon's sure that this isn't Oronyx, since Cyrene said before that they felt nice. Still, he can't just ignore their words, regardless of who they are. The threat of everyone he loves dying is too risky to just ignore.

“So what are you telling me?”

For some reason, the world begins to rumble– like it's angry.

⟦ I'M TELLING YOU THAT IF YOU LOVE HIM, LOVE ANYONE IN THIS WORLD, THEN YOU BETTER FIX IT. ⟧

“F-fix what? And how?! I, I– You're just yelling at me and showing me horrible things!”

The rumbling stops. Phainon's sure, now– If not Oronyx, then this blue thing must be some other kind of divine. Was there any other Titan that could do something like this? He'd have to ask Cyrene in the morning.

⟦ Unfortunately for you, I can't just give you all the information you need… Can't risk you inheriting the ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ yet… That might doom this whole run. ⟧

Inheriting the huh? Doom the run? What…

⟦ You're already on the right path, in a sense. ⟧

⟦ Are you not in pursuit of strength for your village's sake? For Mydeimos’ sake? ⟧

⟦ Become even stronger still. That is the only way to protect everyone. ⟧

Phainon… Still doesn't understand. He knows from his father's lessons that stuff like swordsmanship didn't necessarily have a strict goal– and that the pursuit of mastery had no fixed deadline– but Phainon can't quite apply that understanding when the stakes were this high.

“To what end? What am I protecting everyone from?!”

⟦ Oh, so many things. ⟧

⟦ Unfortunately, as you are right now, you can't protect a single thing. ⟧

…He knows that full well, but Phainon's getting more than a little frustrated with all the vague talking.

⟦ So, for the time being… Why don't you try and make a name for yourself? ⟧

⟦ Hurry up and find your footing before Mydei takes your role as Protagonist. ⟧

Phainon feels so ridiculous turning the words over and over in his mind, but his mouth is dry and he feels as though he can do nothing else. He doesn't understand. He can't understand. He's so ordinary– what do they mean by his role? And what did they mean by protagonist? If anyone was the protagonist of the world, it was Mydeimos, no? The crown prince? Stripped of glory and returned to take his rightful place?

He tries to find his voice, but the only thing he can stammer out is–

“W-why?”

⟦ Why? ⟧

⟦ Because Amphoreus is full of suffering. ⟧

⟦ And Mydei has suffered enough. ⟧

Suddenly, Phainon is back in the ocean, but this time he's watching Mydeimos actively trying to fight against the water pulling him under– and he's losing.

On instinct, Phainon moves towards him, desperate to save the boy, but his limbs are locked in place. Horrified at the realization that he can do nothing, he shuts his eyes.

Now more than ever does Phainon feel like a child when he yells; “Stop! Stop! Please stop showing me this!”

⟦ Familiarize yourself with his pain, ⟧ the blue rectangle insists. ⟦ This is the only way to ensure that you never let him suffer again. ⟧

Phainon feels like he could kill Eurypon with his mind, just with the force of his fury alone. Did Mydeimos nearly drown over and over in the Sea of Souls, just like this?

⟦ Nearly? ⟧

The voice laughs. It's the worst sound that Phainon's ever heard, scratching unpleasantly against his eardrums. Hey, what did they mean by…

The vision of Mydeimos losing strength beneath the waves suddenly disappears in a blink, and he's surrounded by absolutely nothing once again.

⟦ What the… ⟧

Hey, why was the blue thing confused? Phainon should be the one saying that– especially since the void has suddenly taken on a pink hue.

“That isn't very nice of you,” someone says. It sounds like Cyrene, so Phainon turns towards the voice, desperate to run to his sister and protect her from the voice's cruelty. But she's not there– not anywhere. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

⟦ …Get out of my head, Cyrene. ⟧

Phainon is so confused right now. He knows that dreams are weird, but this is just beyond anything he's ever experienced. In his own sister's words, he's lost the plot. How could she be here?

Actually, he won't question it.

“Cyrene?” He tries, because that must be her, right? The voice confirmed it.

The void flickers.

“Um, no~?”

⟦ … ⟧

“...”

That was definitely her. Did she think she could fool her own brother?

⟦ Look what you've done, ⟧ the blue voice says.

“Me?” Cyrene demands. “You started it by pulling the poor boy in here!”

It definitely sounds like her when they bicker, too.

⟦ I'll destroy the memory of you being here so long as you promise to not meddle too much with Mydei, ⟧ the blue voice continues, which only confuses Phainon more. ⟦ You know what I mean. Let him pen his own pages. ⟧

“I haven't done anything! Besides, you know I wouldn't put Mydei through that,” Cyrene’s voice says. There's an incredibly weird emphasis on the last word, like it holds tangible weight. “You know it's you and me against them. We agreed to do our duties together.”

⟦ I am doing my duty– ⟧

“No way, you're just being a bully!” A sound like a light hit echoes throughout the empty space. “Being jealous isn't cute, you know. Mydei won't want that.”

⟦ I know, ⟧ the voice replies, subdued.

“Oh yeah? You're the one meddling with Mydei,” Cyrene huffs. “You don't even know what he wants, I bet.”

⟦ Mydei doesn't want responsibility. Mydei wants to live out a relatively peaceful life away from water, ⟧ the voice says, petulant now.

“Oh?”

⟦ And I want whatever Mydei wants. ⟧

“Does Mydei want you torturing yourself like this?” Cyrene’s voice asks.

⟦ Torture? ⟧

Suddenly the void is gone, and he's standing in a magnificent burning city. Phainon is holding a blade.

It's dripping golden blood.

⟦ If I wanted him tortured, I'd make him remember what we've done. Make him realize how unworthy we are of breathing his air…! ⟧

There's.

There's a hefty presence at Phainon's feet, all of a sudden. It has weight. It's rapidly losing its warmth.

He's too scared to look down and confirm the sight with his own eyes.

“Ah…” Phainon whimpers. He's so lost, but most of all, so afraid, he's so angry but he's so scared, he's going to make ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ pay, he's going to bring destruction–

Two hands fold themselves over his eyes.

The hands drift away and the void returns.

“Don't exert too much influence over him,” his sister's voice says. “Look what happens when you do.”

⟦ …I get it. ⟧

⟦ Hurry and go. I'll take care of this. ⟧

“...Don't be so hard on yourself.”

There is a sound like a page turning, and Phainon can actually feel his sister's presence fade. He doesn't see it, but he can sense that ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is gone.

…Wait. Huh?

Who's gone?

Before Phainon can think over the missing word, the blue rectangle in front of him flashes once to catch his attention.

⟦ If you want to keep everyone you love safe, happy, and alive… ⟧

⟦ Someone has to die. ⟧

“I'll do it,” Phainon blurts. Right. He can't get distracted. Dying was a small price compared to the lives of his loved ones. “I'll become strong, I'll die, anything.”

A laugh rings through the air. It's oddly self-deprecating. ⟦ Oh no, not you. I should have been more clear. This is a world where even death can be overturned, so… ⟧

The words trail off and stop for a long, harrowing moment.

⟦ There are a few things that you have to destroy. How fortunate. We excel in destruction. ⟧

More words flicker across the screen, and–

Phainon sits up out of bed, breathing heavy. He's crying, because of course he's crying, he can't get the image of Mydeimos’ dead body out of his brain so he turns to face–

Where is.

Where is he?

The warnings he had just received ping alarms in his mind, and Phainon feels his heart pick up speed. Okay, Cyrene’s at his side at least, but where is Mydeimos?

Phainon leaps out of the kline, feeling like a feral animal as he hits the floor on all fours. He turns his head– okay, his sister was safe, he'll have to get service after the festival to check on his parents, but first and foremost, Mydeimos–

The door creaks open and the prince steps into the darkness. Phainon flings himself into his arms before he can even fully register his presence.

He must look like a mess. Sweaty, crying, disheveled… Phainon would laugh at the look on Mydeimos’ face if he wasn't so distraught.

“...Did someone bully you?” Mydeimos asks. He hesitates for one long moment before reaching out to pat Phainon's head. The gentle movement makes him want to cry harder, but he can't, so Phainon settles for shaking his head.

“Then what is it?”

How to express that some strange divine being just told Phainon to get stronger if he didn't want everyone he loves to die? Impossible. He buries his face into the crook of Mydeimos’ neck. The prince allows this for way too short a time before pulling away.

“Look at me,” Mydeimos sighs.

How can Phainon refuse him? With a sniffle, he lifts his head. “I had a bad dream,” he confesses, though it must be obvious.

“Ah. You should have woken your sister up.”

“Didn't wanna disturb her.” More like the thought didn't even cross his mind, as he was going crazy with worry– and there was no way he'd let her see him like this.

“You could've,” Mydeimos insists.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh,” Phainon repeats. Normally he welcomes the back and forth, but his heart is still pounding like crazy. “Where did you go?”

“Bathhouse,” Mydeimos says.

“You should have taken me with you,” Phainon whispers. Then, he'd have woken up from his nightmare earlier. “When I woke up and you weren't there, I was so scared.”

A click of the tongue makes Phainon wince. Did Mydeimos think him less cool now for crying on him? Oh no…

“Go back to bed,” Mydeimos commands, after dragging Phainon back to the kline and forcibly tucking him under the blankets. Oh. Maybe the prince was just worried for him. The thought makes him feel warm and fuzzy.

“I can't,” Phainon confesses. If he blinks he can see that frightening shade of blue behind his eyelids. “What if I see that dream again?”

Mydeimos yawns. Oddly enough, that is more calming than any of his other attempts to soothe him thus far. “You won't.”

“You can't guarantee that,” Phainon says. How could anyone? That strange voice… Phainon may not be as attuned to the divine as his sister, but even he could feel the sheer strength radiating off of those rectangles.

“Yes I can,” Mydeimos instantly denies. “I'll enter your dreams and beat the nightmare up.”

Phainon… Doesn't want Mydeimos to meet that blue voice. He takes this opportunity to search for the prince's hand and squeezes it tight. “You'll get scared too. I don't want that.”

“Fear does not exist in the Kremnoan language,” Mydeimos tells him. Must be an attempt to cheer him up, because how could fear not exist, even for the mighty Kremnoans?

Phainon smiles at the attempt to brighten his mood. “Okay. But if you get scared, I'll protect you.”

“You were literally just crying into my shoulder like a minute ago,” Mydeimos points out, which is just so rude.

“Hey…!”

“Hush. I'm going to sleep before you can,” Mydeimos tells him, and his eyes shut easily.

“No way, I'll sleep first!” Phainon exclaims, refusing to lose like this. He curls up against Mydeimos– the weight of the prince at his side banishes all of his fears to the far corners of Amphoreus– for now.

If he wanted to keep Mydeimos there… How much stronger would he have to become?

.

When Mydeimos declares his intent to challenge his father, the crowd roars in reply.

It's like nothing he's experienced before. Phainon's up and out of his seat with the rest of the audience, like Mydeimos’ words pushed him to his feet. Hell, they might as well have– the sound of the prince's words being broadcast to the entire arena enough to make Phainon feel like he could run ten laps around Amphoreus and still have adrenaline to spare.

“Oh my goodness, oh my gosh,” Cyrene is squealing, hands to her face. He can barely hear her over the crowd and his own pounding heart. She's practically thrown herself onto Phainon's side like she physically can't bear her own weight. “Is this really happening?!”

The energy is electric– Phainon can hardly breathe. Were they seriously about to witness history, right here and now? Before, Phainon never registered the enormity of Mydei's title, but now its weight was overwhelming. Even just thinking Mydei's name right now felt like a sacred act. Here was Castrum Kremnos’ prince, and here he would fight for his people.

Phainon was no Kremnoan, but even he could feel the surge of pride radiating throughout the air.

Father and son stare each other down, and soon the arena grows quiet, desperate to see who will make the next move. Would they clash in the next breath?

“You have your mother's mien,” is the first thing that Eurypon says. Phainon thinks that he must have more than that, if he called out her name when he saw Mydei's face.

Mydei nods. It feels like the entire arena stretches as they all lean forward to hear the prince's reply. “And her might. Lucky for me, that I resemble her much more than my other unworthy parent.”

“Every individual that had power or claim to me has been cast into the Sea,” Eurypon tells him, voice cold. “I have no son.”

“You're right,” Mydei sounds all too eager to agree. “I am the son of Gorgo, and any claim to me is hers alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone that I must trample upon in order to get what I want.”

“And what do you want, son of Gorgo? My blood spilled at your feet? The throne? Our legacy spoiled by your wretched ambition?”

“Our legacy?” Mydei repeats, incredulous. “Make up your mind. Am I your son or not?”

It seems that Eurypon has no reply to that, but Phainon can see, even from the stands, that his face is visibly changing color.

“If you really have to know what I want– I want my mother's murderer to suffer as she has,” Mydei continues. He makes no mention of the throne, or the kingdom, or anything else. Just his mom.

That makes Phainon feel incredibly sad. He clenches a fist. He should ask his mom to come by and give Mydei a big squeeze.

“You cling to your mother, though she's little more than a memory now,” Eurypon hums, tone frosty. “As expected of a child. Perhaps I'll toss you back into the Sea of Souls and allow you to rejoin her.”

“A gracious offer,” Mydei says, just as cold. “I must refuse.”

Eurypon only laughs. With a swift toss of his arm, he throws his cape back. “Very well. Out of respect to the life I once shared with your mother, I shall honor your request for a fair duel.”

“I didn't think you cared much for fairness considering the fact that you poisoned my mother to ensure her downfall,” Mydei says, conversationally. What. The arena starts to buzz.

The king chuckles once more, but the sound is full of madness. “There is no poison as fatal as the one that runs through our veins.”

“I won't try to change the mind of a madman,” Mydei says. “Hurry up and order your guards to clear the arena. Or don't. Take your time and revel in the power you have now– it'll be the last time you'll get to experience wielding it.”

“Arrogant,” Eurypon comments, sounding oddly pleased. “I wonder– from whom did you get your sharp tongue? Clear the arena!”

Phainon doesn't envy the other competitors, who are quick to scurry out of the arena like fire has been lit beneath their soles. A few men pause and whisper something to Mydei, but he waves them all away, eyes never leaving his father.

One man even pats him on the head, which– hmph. How dare he take advantage of this emotional moment to do so! Him and that one weirdo from before, the one that stole the ribbons!

A storm of guards hurry to clear the fallen Titankin from the field. Strangely enough, the relatively unharmed Titankin just walk on out of the arena like they could hear Eurypon. There's a lot of them, though, so it's gonna take awhile for them to make it so Mydei is the only one standing in the center…

Phainon swallows.

“Are you worried for him?” Cyrene asks.

“Of course I am!” Phainon exclaims. “I'm worried he'll be hurt! That his dad will bully him! But I'm not worried that he's gonna lose– he won't!”

Phainon's faith in Mydei was unshakable. Age, experience… Maybe his horrible father had the prince beat there. But still. Was there anyone mightier than Mydei in this world? Absolutely not.

“He won't lose,” Phainon repeats. “The only one worthy of defeating him will be me.” The moment he speaks the words, he solidifies his belief in them– yes, Phainon would do anything to catch up to Mydei in strength. Would do anything at all to protect him. He wasn't worthy yet, but…

Cyrene’s face does something funny, and then she laughs. “Hehe, you sure are confident in yourself.”

“Me?” Phainon repeats, pointing at himself. “No way. The one I have faith in is my Mydei!”

“Your Mydei?”

A part of him shies away, appalled at his own audacity. A much larger part of him wants to shout yes, my Mydei!

That horrible, horrible dream he'd had earlier got him thinking– Phainon didn't know a thing about protagonists or sinister voices that sounded like him– but he did know that he wanted to be with Mydei. Always. Yes, Mydei was almost certainly going to become a heroic figure akin to those from Cyrene’s stories– his title of crown prince alone was enough to send his name echoing through the ages. To become legend, like every hero and many a Chrysos Heir before him!

Phainon didn't have to be a genius scholar to know that everything would change when Mydei defeated his father and took his rightful place on the throne.

If Phainon wanted to marry Mydei… If Phainon wanted to relieve him of this so-called protagonist role and save him from suffering… Phainon would have to do something, right? Become someone powerful and noble enough to remain at his side? Yes… Make a name for himself, like that voice suggested he should do!

The thought of him being an insignificant footnote in Mydei's story made Phainon want to curl up and cry. Hardship was nothing if he could ensure the happiness of those precious to him. What did it matter if he alone suffered?

Ah, Phainon didn't want to be too greedy. If Mydei could save a little part of his heart for Phainon to sneak in, that would be enough. He'd suffer through whatever that ominous voice was warning him about if Phainon could proudly proclaim my Mydei in front of the world.

Phainon must have taken too long to respond, because Cyrene snorts. “You're so gone,” she says, absolutely delighted. “To be young and enamored.”

“You're not that much older than me,” Phainon pouts.

“Hehe.”

Before Phainon can say anything, the crowd around them starts going absolutely wild once more. He quickly turns his attention back to the arena.

It's clear of both Titankin and competitors, now. Only Mydei stands in the center, eyeing his father as he descends from the royal seats.

Cyrene giggles again. “Mydei's practically glowing.”

“...You took the words right out of my mouth,” Phainon agrees, staring down at the prince's vicious smile. Kephale, Mydei's shining brighter than the dawn device itself. His heart aches at the sight. He wants to be down there. He wants to be strong enough to defend him.

His time would come. As ever, Phainon watches and waits.