Archive of Our Own

It had not been long since the world's great battle against Irontomb came to its end. Slowly, Amphoreus began to steady itself, learning the shape of peace that had finally reached it. Yet its people were not yet born into the real world, existing only as memories bound within a book, written by Cyrene and the Trailblazer.

Even so, they knew this state would not last. The day would come when they would draw breath beyond those pages, no longer as data nor recollection, but as living beings of their own making.

And still, the question lingered.

Was the peace preserved within those written leaves truly enough, or was it a fragile pause waiting to be undone?

A week passed and still, Phainon lay within his chambers, unmoving upon the bed, lost to an endless sleep as though tomorrow no longer existed for him. The Chrysos Heirs watched with growing worry. At times, Mydei would wake from his nightmares, breath uneven, heart pounding, and his next actions never came as a surprise.

He would go to Phainon at once.

Again and again, he rushed to his side, fingers pressing lightly against Phainon’s chest as if to reassure himself that the man still lived, that his heart yet beat beneath his palm. The chair beside the bed had become his own. There he slept. There he remained awake. There he spoke to Phainon, uncertain whether his words ever reached him at all.

The cursed Irontomb lingered in his thoughts. A curse that demanded Phainon's life so that it might take form.

Was that how Phainon had felt across all those cycles, forced to take the lives of everyone who mattered to him, again and again?

Mydei could only imagine that pain multiplied to a millionfold, yet even then, he knew it would never be enough to mirror what Phainon had endured. If only he would wake and speak. If only he would tell him. Perhaps then, they could begin to heal together, as they always had. 

“Snowy? He left the bed some time ago.”

Mydei had only just arrived at the Marmoreal Palace, having spent the whole morning alone with his thoughts, wandering the market in search for fresh fruits. It had become a habit, a small ritual before returning to Phainon's side, though barely a week had passed.

“Where did he go?”

In truth, neither Lady Tribios nor Hyacine knew.

When Phainon awoke, he was drenched in cold sweat. The first thing he did was not to offer the room his familiar, brilliant smile. Instead, he spoke apology after apology, words spilling from him without end. Even Aglea found herself at a loss, confronted by the sight of such deep guilt pooling within Phainon's eyes.

Perhaps, even if told again and again, that none of it was his fault, Phainon would still accept the arrow of blame and let it pierce him. Perhaps even fate itself was not enough to excuse the murders he had committed in its name. Worse still was the treason, carried out against those who had trusted him without hesitation.

It was upon the rooftops of the Marmoreal Market that he stood, a place beloved by couples. Though many of the common people had never been written into the book of As I've Written, in Phainon's mind, they were still there. Mingling as they always had. Laughing, arguing, living within the warmth of his memories.

He lifted his gaze.

Khephale’s statue no longer loomed over the polis. Within the pages of the book, they no longer required the protection of the Worldbearing Titan. Where stone once stood, light now stretched across the horizon. It was not as brilliant as the sun remembered by the Trailblazer, yet it shone upon all of Amphoreus all the same.

Perhaps it reflected the tomorrow both him and Cyrene had always reached for.

From afar, Phainon saw a silhouette take shape at the corner of the market and he knew at once who it was. Of course Mydei knew where to find him. He always did.

Phainon did not want that. Not right now.

Among all the Chrysos Heirs, it was Mydei who weighed on him the most. Thirty-three million lives, all extinguished by his own hands and through every cycle, it was Mydei he had been made to kill again and again. The repetition hallowed him in a way nothing else had. Each ending carried the same face. Each mercy wore the same name.

When he was faced with that man, what was he meant to say? What was he meant to do?

The question left him stranded within himself. No apology he could ever offer would ever be enough. And even if he spoke them, would Mydei accept any of it at all? Mydei carried the memories now, the weight of every cycle laid bare before him. He knew of their entangled past, of the trust once given freely, and of how it always ended the same way. Mydei entrusted him with his weakness and Phainon had betrayed him every single time.

Phainon could not forgive himself.

Mydei was not sure if it was only his imagination but he thought he saw a man in white standing where they always went.

“Phainon?”

The familiar spot where Phainon would so often drag him without warning for sparring sessions that turned longer than intended. At times, they would sit there instead, speaking of nothing important at all, letting the hour pass while waiting for a sunset they both knew would never come to the City of Eternal Light.

Yet when Mydei reached the place, it stood empty.

Phainon was nowhere to be seen.

Had it truly been nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him? It had not even been a full day since he last saw Phainon laying still in bed and already, his thoughts were betraying him with false shapes and half formed hopes.

The absence unsettled him.

Mydei worried for him. Phainon had only just woken up from what should have been a longer rest. He should have remained in bed still recovering. Where could he have gone without a word? Without telling the others or leaving the smallest note for him? 

The silence pressed heavily on his chest. 

Mydei did not have a good feeling about it. Something deep within him stirred with quiet insistence, whispering that something was wrong.

⪻────𖤓────⪼

“Phainon had gone missing!”

The words struck sharper than he expected.

Titans. What in the world had that man been thinking?!

They were still trapped within that book no matter how far he tried to run. Wherever Phainon had gone, he could not have truly left. The thought did little to calm him.

Tsk.

Mydei clicked his tongue in annoyance, flaring hot and immediate. He should have tied Phainon down when he had a chance! That much was painfully clear now. Yet beneath the irritation, something darker simmered. What had truly angered him was not the disappearance itself but the way it had been done. 

Phainon had spoken to everyone else and still, he had left without a single word to him. Not even one.

Why?

Was he so undeserving of his time? Was he meant to be left behind just like that, waiting without explanation? The thought tightened his jaw and his hands curled instinctively at his sides. Mydei swore then that the next time he met Phainon, his fist would be the first thing to greet him.

For now, there was no use standing still.

If Phainon would not come to him, then Mydei would go to Phainon.

⪻────𖤓────⪼

Phainon's parents were set to return to Aedes Elysiae. The decision had already been made and spoken of with their son only moments before. If they were to find him there, they promised to make contact at once.

It was not that they did not worry for him. How could they not? 

But seeing someone so willing, so intent on searching for him, they knew they did not need to carry the burden alone. There was comfort in that knowledge, quiet though it was.

When Phainon had woken and Audata saw him for the first time within the pages of this book, she knew the image would never leave her. After everything they had endured, her son had grown into a fine man. Taller, broader, carrying the weight of the world she could only begin to understand. Yet in her eyes, he was still the same child from their homeland running barefoot through the fields, laughter bright and unburdened. Still the boy who would return with arms full of flowers woven clumsily into crowns.

“Mama, Mama look!”

The road back to the village no longer carried the same dangers it once had, when even stepping beyond its borders meant courting death. Now the two of them could manage the journey on their own. They had even been gifted two dromases. Hieronymus had insisted on the pair saying that if they took only one, it would surely grow lonely without companion. It was then that a thought settled quietly in Mydei’s mind that they were truly Phainon's parents. The resemblance was not in face or in voice but in spirit. They were alike in ways that could not be mistaken.

Audata stepped closer and placed a basket into Mydei's hands.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Honeycakes. Take them with you on the road.”

The gesture left him both grateful and confused. He had only met them there and with their son acting foolish yet again, Mydei was certain they knew nothing of what truly lay between him and Phainon. Perhaps it was nothing more than courtesy. A simple thanks offered with the belief that he would search for their son and bring him back.

Still, he held the basket carefully as though it carried something far more fragile than food.

“Once you find my son, allow him to take you to our village.” Audata rested her hands upon Mydei's shoulders, the gesture gentle and sure as though meant to steady him. He stood just as tall as Phainon did. “Then I will make you honeycakes even more delicious than these ones.”

Oh.

So they knew.

Of course they did. They were his parents after all. Even if Phainon had never spoken the truth aloud, Audata had seen it in the quiet way he moved and in the words he chose when he spoke of him. Phainon had mentioned Mydei to them long before and each time, there had been something weighed down in his voice. A guilt so sharp it bordered on pain.

But seeing Mydei now still willing to reach out, still willing to search, to stay and to be seen, Audata understood what her son could not yet believe himself. Phainon would be fine. She was certain of it. With this man by his side, he would be. 

And so, they set off 

Perhaps when the time was right, Audata would drag her husband along to visit Castrum Kremnos herself. There would be time for that later. For now, astride the dromas, she turned back and lifted a hand, waving Mydei farewell until distance thinned him into a pale figure against the road.

“Do you think his parents would like my honeycakes?”

Hieronymus hummed distracted, still admiring the dromases with quiet satisfaction before giving Audata a knowing look. His gaze drifted back to where Mydei's figure had grown smaller, his palette stark against their son's lighter hues. Thought wandered as it often did and settled upon the man's reliable build, solid in a way that spoke of endurance. With a body like that, one particular concern surfaced and he made a mental note to ask Phainon about it later.

“He seems like a sweet child. I am sure anything you make they would like.”

Audata considered this for a moment before smiling in agreement. If there was one thing she knew, it was her own cooking. Royalty or not, people always loved what she made.

And she was not lying.

Mydei ate a bite of the honeycakes right then and there and found himself pausing in surprise. He scolded Phainon silently because unlike him, if his mother claimed herself the best cook in all of Amphoreus, Mydei would believe her without question.

⪻────𖤓────⪼

Nearly a month had passed since Phainon's disappearance.

In the first week of his wandering, he found himself taken in by an old man who had discovered him drifting unconscious upon the river. The memory of it came to him only in fragments, the cold pull of water, the distant rush of current, and the sensation of hands dragging him back to land. Had this not been in a world contained within a book, Phainon suspected he might have woken at the very threshold of death itself.

Though Phainon had been young whenever he left Aedes Elysiae in those lived cycles, he had never forgotten how to work on a field. The tools felt strange at first within his hands yet not unfamiliar. Who would have thought he would hold such things again after laying down Dawnmaker, the blade that had remained with him through so many endings. He had left it behind for the Trailblazer, a small offering to the hero who had finally freed Amphoreus from the endless turning of its cycles.

The place where the old man lived was nothing like the village Phainon had once called home. Yellow fields stretched wide across the land, swallowing the horizon in quiet waves while the homes stood scattered far apart, each separated by hills and long empty paths. They were so distant from one another that even shouting with all the strength in one's lungs would likely be useless. No neighbor would hear.

Phainon vaguely remembered a moment from one of their many lives.

He had stood in this place before. It had been during a joint mission with Mydeimos, one Aglea had insisted the two of them complete together. At that time, they had only just begun to endure one another's presence. Even the sound of the other's voice had been enough to grate against the nerves.

The memory lingered with uncomfortable clarity. Back then, the black tide had swallowed this land whole. The sky had been carved through with red streaks and titankins roamed freely loose upon the world for slaughter. 

Phainon let out a quiet sigh.

The sickle moved in his hand with steady rhythm, cutting clean through the stalks as golden wheat fell in soft rustling waves. His body remembered the motion easily and the work passed through him without thought. 

He wondered if his parents had already returned.

Though he had said his farewell only within the quiet of his heart, the fact that he had not been there when they left still tugged at the guilty strings of his conscience. 

It was the first quint of the Action Hour and the ‘sun’ shone above him with unwavering brightness. Too bad it was only a replica, an imitation of the real thing, lacking its harsh and unforgiving heat. The light that touched him was gentle instead, carrying a softness much like the warmth of sunrise. 

Even so, the labor had drawn sweat from his skin. His back ached with the dull protest of muscles long bent forward and he straightened slowly, seeking a moment's stretch. 

His thoughts then wondered once more to a certain blonde.

No matter how he tried to occupy himself, the mind returned to the same place. Work the fields. Count the rows. Watch the wind pass through the wheats. Still, the thought of Mydei found him again and again as though the distance between them meant nothing at all.

He wondered what the man was doing now.

Perhaps he had returned to Castrum Kremnos with his kin. Or perhaps he had gone to the rooftop of the Marmoreal Market again where he sometimes lingered when the day grew long.

Mydei.

Had he tried looking for him? 

The thought weighed heavily upon Phainon's chest. Somewhere deep within himself, he truly wished Mydei would find him. 

Yet even as the wish formed, he knew how foolish it was.

Because when Phainon had seen Mydei, joy plastered bright upon his face as he spoke with his parents free from the shadow of the black tide that had once threatened them, all Phainon had felt was relief, and then fear rose within him.

A quiet terrible fear.

He feared that his presence alone would shatter that happiness.

It was then that he had decided to walk away. To remove himself in Mydei's life in hopes that the man would find it easier to make a fresh start.

Phainon rolled his neck in a slow motion, hoping to ease the dull ache that had gathered there. When he lifted his gaze toward the north where the old man's house stood upon the rise, something caught his attention at once.

A figure clad in crimson.

The distance between them was great yet Phainon knew immediately who it was. Even if placed within a crowd of a thousand wearing the same color, his eyes would still find that one presence without fail.

“Mydei.” He murmured softly, the name leaving his lips like rain offered to a long drought.

His body stilled entirely.

His mouth agape and thought abandoned him as his heart began to pound louder and faster whithin his chest. For a moment, he could do nothing but stare as though afraid the image might shatter if he moved.

Only when the old man lifted a hand and beckoned him over did Phainon stir from the spell.

So, it was not a hallucination.

Mydei had truly come for him.

Yet, the realization brought him no joy. Instead, his chest tightened until even the simple act of breathing began to ache.

Boots came to a halt at the edge of the field.

Phainon stood before them, the sickle still resting in his hand, his gaze fixed upon Mydei as though nothing else in the world remained. And then…it struck him.

He had never seen that look in Mydei's eyes before.

It was the look that carried the weight of something forsaken, as though the heavens themselves had turned away in a moment of need.

Behind them, the old man quietly made his way back into his home, leaving the two alone with unspoken understanding. 

When he had first seen Mydei walking alone in the road, asking after a white haired man of similar build, the purpose of his visit had been clear from the very beginning.

He had come to fetch his companion.

“Come with me.”

The words left Mydei's mouth like distant thunder, deep and unyielding, leaving no room for argument.

Phainon swallowed with difficulty, the tightness in his throat refusing to ease. His steps felt uncertain beneath him yet he followed without protest 

They walked toward the riverside where the quiet flow of water would keep their voices from wandering.

There, no one would interrupt what needed to be said.

Mydei stood with his arms crossed, his back still turned toward him.

Several minutes had passed in silence. Not a single word had left his mouth. From where he stood, Phainon could see only the slow rise and fall of his shoulders, the measured rhythm of someone forcing breath to remain steady.

It seemed, Mydei was trying to contain his anger. Trying to quiet the storm within himself.

“Why…why are you here?”

Phainon spoke at last, hoping to break the suffocating stillness. Yet the question alone set fire to Mydei's head.

Something snapped.

The movement came without warning. A fist cut through the air, trailing a sharp rush of wind before striking Phainon's cheek with a heavy sound.

“Why?!”

The word burst from him like thunder barely restrained. 

Why would Phainon even ask that?! 

Mydei could hardly believe what he had heard. The question struck deeper than the blow he had thrown. Anger surged so fiercely that heat gathered behind his eyes until his vision blurred.

Why would he not be there?

If Phainon had truly wished not to see him again, he would have covered his tracks, made sure no trace would lead anyone to him. Or had Phainon truly believed Mydei would not search for him? That he would simply let him disappear without a word?

‘Why’?!

Hah! 

Phainon fell to the ground, a hand rising instinctively to cradle the swelling along his cheek. Shock held him still as he looked up at Mydei, the force of the sudden blow yet to settle within his bones.

He barely had time to gather his thoughts before Mydei moved again.

The weight of him came down at once, pressing Phainon firmly into the earth, leaving him no moment to recover. One hand seized the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric tight, while the other rose without hesitation.

The first strike was followed by another.

And another.

And another…

Mydei's fist came down again and again, each blow landing with a dull sound that echoed across the quiet riverbank. Skin split beneath the force until Phainon's blood surfaced in muted gold. Soon, the skin across Mydei's knuckles broke as well and the same gold answered it, the two colors indistinguishable as they smeared between them.

Still, the blows continued.

Mydei felt exhausted. The war had ended and yet, nothing within him felt at peace. Everything blurred before his eyes as though the world had not changed at all. The man beneath him made it feel that way.

Why had he run? 

Why had he tried to avoid him when peace had finally come to them? 

Had everything they lived through across those countless lifetimes meant nothing in the end? Had it all been nothing more than an illusion after all? 

“Why won't you fight back?!”

The words tore from him as he swallowed the sob rising painfully in his throat.

Phainon did not resist. He only lay there, his hand rising to catch Mydei's wrist as though quietly telling him it was fine to strike him again.

“Why won't you hit me back?”

Slowly, Mydei's punches began to lose their force.

The blows that once fell heavy turned weaker until at last, there was nothing left in him to strike with. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before they lowered uselessly. 

Then his head dropped forward until it rested against Phainon's chest.

His back curved inward as though the weight he carried had finally pressed down too hard to bear. Both of his hands remained clenched into fists, rested beside his head as if he could hide the vulnerability that had begin to show.

But the effort failed.

A broken sound escaped him first, then another. The sobs came chocked and uneven until Mydei could no longer hold them back. Tears fell without permission, soaking into the fabric beneath him as the shirt absorbed their quiet warmth.

Phainon answered him without hesitation. 

His hands rose to rest upon Mydei's nape and along the curve of his back, gentle and steady as though trying to gather the man together again.

The sounds Mydei made cut deeper than any blade. To Phainon, they hurt far worse than stab wounds ever could.

They remained like that upon the ground for a long while.

Long enough for Mydei's sobs to fade into unevern breaths and for tears to gather quietly in Phainon's eyes as his thoughts drifted through the long history that bound them together.

The sky stretched above him , bright and open, the same shade as his own iris, untouched by clouds. From time to time, birds crossed the vastness, their small songs carried away by the wind.

At last, his gaze lowered.

He looked down at the man resting against his chest. Beneath his palms, he could feel the rise and fall of Mydei's breathing, his fingers resting along the man's back where that once fatal weakness had been. Yet now, the flaw no longer existed. As preserved memories, the book had stripped it away from him.

“...I killed you.”

Mydei did not lift his head yet it was clear he listened to every word Phainon spoke 

“...I know.”

“I betrayed you.”

His answer did not change.

“I know.”

Of course he knew.

The memories across thirty-three million lives had already returned to him.

“Then why do you seek me still?!”

With a sudden surge of strength, Phainon pushed himself upright, carrying both his weight and Mydei's with him.

The movement forced Mydei to sit upon his lap, his face no longer hidden but laid bare before Phainon. His eyes were reddened from crying and tears still clung to the edges of his lashes, refusing to fall.

Phainon's hands came to rest upon his shoulders, careful and unsteady as tears finally began to still from his own eyes.

“I hurt you Mydei. It was not a single moment or mistake.” His voice trembled. “You trusted me and I betrayed you again. And again. And again! Every life you lived, ended by my hands!”

The words rushed from him without restraint.

“All. Of. Them.”

A line formed between Mydei's brows as he listened.

So that was all this turmoil had been about?

To him, the matter had already been settled long ago during the moment he spoke with the last lingering consciousness of the Flame Reaver before their battle with Irontomb.

Mydei let out a quiet sigh.

The tension that had coiled within his body finally loosened and his shoulders eased. Yet, Phainon continued blubbering, unable to stop himself, his words tumbled forward in frantic disarray, insisting that perhaps it would have been better if Mydei stayed far away from him.

But who was he to decide such things?

Who was Phainon to choose the fate of two men alone?

So, Mydei lifted his hands and brought them to Phainon's face, his palms cupping his cheeks as drew him closer still. 

Their lips met.

They were wet with tears and blood, the taste of salt and iron mingling with breath as the distance between them vanished.

Phainon's sobs faltered and were swallowed by the quiet of the moment as Mydei held him there, pressing the kiss deeper as though the only answer he had was to close the space Phainon kept trying to create.

I know 

I know, Phainon.

Mydei parted his lips further, his tongue brushing against Phainon's teeth in a quiet insistence, urging him to yield. One arm slipped around Phainon's neck, drawing him closer still as though the closeness they already shared was not enough.

Phainon looked at him.

Mydei's eyes had already fallen shut. His lashes were long, still damp with tears, and there was something painfully beautiful about the sight. Blood still traced faint lines along Phainon's skin and yet, Mydei did not hesitate. Not once did he pull away.

Mydei was playing dirty, he thought.

Phainon yielded.

His mouth opened, allowing Mydei in and their tongues met once, moving together in breathless rhythm that felt both desperate and familiar. Instinct took hold of them both and Phainon's hands moved along Mydei's back, tracing the red tattoos he already knew by heart until his palms settled lower, resting firmly against the curve of Mydei's hips.

The distance between them disappeared entirely. 

Their breathing turned heavy between them, the air growing warm with each shared breath. A small sound escaped Mydei's throat, soft and unguarded and Phainon felt it travel straight into his memory. He held onto every one of them, determined that none would ever fade from his mind. 

At last, Mydei drew back.

A thin strand of saliva stretched between their lips before it broke and he looked directly into Phainon's eyes.

“I told you, even if we were to live through a billion more cycles, I would still entrust my weakness to you.”

There was no falsehood in his voice. Across all those countless lives, it had been the one decision he had never once regretted. And if fate ever chose to condemn them again, he knew he would still place his life in Phainon's hands without hesitation. Even in a moment where death might not release him a second time. 

“Or do you not trust my words?”

Mydei leaned forward again, placing a gentler kiss upon his lips before his tongue brushed over the blood that had smeared there.

“What do you want, Phainon?” His voice dropped to a little more than a whisper.

“Tell me your own selfish wish. When you told me to stay away, did you truly mean it? Do you truly wish for me to disappear from your sight? Forever?”

Phainon's eyes widened in a sudden panic.

“Titans no! Of course not, Mydei.” 

The answer came at once, fileld with urgency.

Why would Mydei ever believe such a thing?

Mydei smiled and pressed another kiss upon his lips. This one was gentler than the last, almost no more than a peck yet it was enough to quiet whatever Phainon had been about to say.

He drew back only slight.

“Then… marry me.”

For a moment, Phainon simply stared.

Then his eyes widened so much it seemed they might fall from their sockets. Surely he misheard? There was no way those words truly came from Mydei's mouth. Right?

But Mydei was never one to jest about matters of the heart.

From within his robe, he produced a ring, the one that had once belonged to his mother. In the countless lives that had come before, Phainon had returned it to him each time without fail, and for that, Mydei remained quietly grateful. 

“I met your parents before they began their journey back to your homeland.”

A faint smile touched his lips at the memory. The honeycakes Audata had given him had vanished the very same day he received them. That night, he had stared speechless at the empty basket long after the last one was gone, his hand reaching inside only to find the soft sweetness no longer there.

He had felt like a glutton.

But Audata’s cooking truly was something else! 

“I noticed a ring upon your mother's finger so I thought, perhaps, your people follow the same custom as the Okhemans. That lovers give one another rings.”

Oh.

If this was a dream, Phainon prayed to never wake from it. He could remain here forever.

Mydei held the ring between them.

“Now, I give it to you.”

He placed the ring into Phainon's open palm.

Once, it had been a symbol of his turning away from the old violence of Kremnos. Now, his love had been etched into it just as deeply.

Phainon closed his fingers around the metal.

The man before him had already made his choice. He could have began anew without him. He could have walked a future untouched by Phainon's sins and yet, here he stood offering himself without hesitation. To the one who had ended his life millions of times over, he still gave this.

Mydei chose him.

His love for Phainon outweighed every pain that had come before it.

And now, the shape of their future rested in Phainon's hands.

How could he ever refuse this? When even his first selfish wish had always been Mydei. To stand beside him. To fulfill the promise he had failed to keep across all those lives.

Phainon wanted Mydei for himself.

He felt most like himself when he was with him. Even in his worst moments, the mere sight of Mydei had a way of brightening the day before him. But more than that, he loved the way he loved Mydei. Fully. Without reservation.

All doubt fell away.

“Mydei, wrap your arms around me.”

The words came soft but certain.

There was nothing left to fear between them. Phainon understood that now even if the realization came with a dull ache of all the time lost.

Mydei obeyed without question. His arms closed around Phainon and he let the other decide what came next.

Phainon leaned in and claimed his mouth.

For a brief instant, the wound at his lip stung sharply. Mydei had not held back when he struck him earlier and the reminder was still there. It was good. It grounded him. It reminded him he was still awake.

Where Mydei's kisses had carried urgency, Phainon's burned warmer. His tongue slipped inside, brushing against the roof of Mydei's mouth and he kissed him until breath threatened to leave them both. 

They were shameless.

Hands roamed freely, tracing skin beneath cloth, touching everywhere without restraint beneath the open sky until there was scarcely a place left unexplored. Distance was the only mercy they had. The fields lay empty and the houses were far enough away that no one would see. Even the old man's home sat several minutes from where they were.

Mydei dragged him this far for this very reason. He had not wanted the old man to witness the violence that had overtaken him earlier nor did he wish to be seen so bare and vulnerable by a stranger.

Here, there was only them.

In the midst of the kiss, Mydei felt the change beneath him unmistakable, the hard press of want brushing against him. Heat pooled low in his body and he knew at once that it was not his alone.

Slowly, without breaking the kiss, he shifted his weight, guiding them both upright. The moment Phainon stood, his hands slid behind Mydei, drawing him closer as his knees bent slightly until his grip found the firm curved beneath him.

Then he lifted him.

Phainon secured him carefully, guiding Mydei's legs around his waist, making sure he would not slip. The hold was steady sure as he had done countless times before.

They moved toward the river.

The sound of water reached them first, soft and constant and with it came memory. The Marmoreal Baths. Shared steam shared silence, they way water had once washed the weight of the world from their skin. 

Both of them were still bleeding, gold traced Phainon's face and glinted across Mydei's knuckles.

Phainon wanted to wash it away.

The river waited bright and patient for them 

Mydei's back met the warmth of the boulder settled at the heart of the river and Phainon eased him down with care until his sandals touched the uneven stone beneath the water.

He drew in a slow breath.

Before him, Phainon turned slightly away and washed his face. Water threaded through white hair and carried streaks of gold from his skin only for the current to claim them downstream.

Mydei lifted his hands to his shoulders as he watched. He unclasped his chiton there, letting the soft fabric slip free and sink as it met the water at their waist. Where before only part of his chest had been bared, now nothing adorned his upper body, save for the necklace and armlet resting against his skin.

Phainon looked at him.

And he loved the sight of it.

Sapphires suited Mydei far too well.

Phainon remembered choosing that color when he had fashioned them himself, deliberate and certain in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. Seeing them now against Mydei's bare skin sent something sharp through his chest.

Titans.

He felt as though his heart might give out. Mydei was unbearably beautiful. So much so that Phainon felt unworthy of the sight and yet at the same time, something fierce and possessive stirred within him. The mere thought that another might see Mydei like this, bare and unguarded, threatened to draw something violent from him.

Dangerous.

That was the word that came to mind.

He leaned in and pressed wet kisses to Mydei's cheeks , letting them trail downward to the base of his ear where they drew a faint shiver. Unhurried, he continued along the line of his jaw and Mydei tilted his head slightly, granting him silent permission.

The scent of pomegranate clung to Mydei's neck, rich and intoxicating, and Phainon found himself drawn to it without restraint. He kissed the side of his neck and then bit down harder than before, teeth breaking skin.

Gold welled beneath the mark.

Mydei hissed sharply at the sensation, his breath catching as the sound echoed soft over the water.

Phainon's gaze lingered upon the mark he had left. He brushed his tongue over it, slowly tasting the place where skin had broken. Once, such wounds would have closed almost at once, leaving no sign behind. Now the flesh bore it fully without protest, as though accepting the claim made upon it.

Mydei's hands trembled when it reached for him.

The moment his fingers closed around Phainon, he felt the sharp intake of breath, the shudder that ran through him without restraint. Heat pushed beneath his palm, solid and unmistakable and for a heartbeat, Mydei nearly stilled entirely.

It had been so long.

Billions of years since he had last taken Phainon and the memories returned to him blurred and distant like fragments of a dream half remembered. In every cycle after the first, they had never been granted enough time. Their bond endured unbroken yet always unfinished, never allowed to settle fully into the shape of lovers.

“It has been a while,” Phainon murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Are you sure about this?”

Mydei almost rolled his eyes at the question.

His grip tightened without warning and Phainon, startled at the sudden sharp pressure, a hiss tearing from him before he could stop it.

“How many times must I repeat myself for you to believe me?” Mydei's voice was firm, unwavering. “I told you, I am yours. Is that not enough?”

The gasp Phainon let out dissolved into a low breathless laugh at his words. The reassurance bloomed warm and heavy in his chest, settling there with undeniable certainty.

The ache in his groin sharpened under Mydei's hand, need coiling tighter until it bordered on pain. He shifted instinctively, searching for friction, unable to stay still.

Below their waists, the river’s cold current flowed around them yet it did nothing to dull the heat between them. Phainon remained hard and burning in Mydei's grasp, unrelenting.

Had the water not hidden it, Mydei knew well enough what would have followed. The warmth of slick proof of want would have gathered in his palm.

Mydei began to move his hand.

At first, the strokes were slow, deliberate as though he were testing the shape of the moment, allowing Phainon to feel every pass of his grip. Then the pace quickened, gradually building until Phainon's breath grew uneven and his eyes fell shut. He leaned forward, resting his head against Mydei's shoulder and his hips began to move in answer, thrusting into the rhythm Mydei set.

They worked together without words.

When Phainon's body betrayed him with a sharp twitch in Mydei's grasp, the memory came rushing back to Mydei all at once. The way it all had felt before. On his hands. Against his throat. Pressed between his thighs. Buried deep within him. The recollection struck with sudden clarity and with it came impatience, fierce and undeniable.

Mydei's breath hitched.

He wanted Phainon inside him immediately.

Phainon came.

The release tore through him, sending a sharp tremor down his spine and he leaned in at once, claiming Mydei's mouth again. He kissed him without restraint, tongue sliding in to taste him, nibbling at his lips, brushing his chin, leaving no place left untouched. The motion was frantic, consuming, almost obscene in its devotion as though his tongue alone could speak everything his body still held back.

“Hurry.”

The plea came breathless and strained, and Phainon answered it at once.

He drew back only long enough to help strip away what remained of Mydei's clothes until nothing adorned him but his sandals, his necklace, and the armlet at his arm. Phainon cast the garments aside with precision, letting them land atop the warm boulder before turning to himself. He shed his own clothes without care, tugging free of soaked fabric and finally removing the boots that clung uncomfortably to his feet.

The river continued to flow around them.

And Phainon turned back to Mydei, ready to tend to him at last.

Phainon turned him gently until Mydei's back faced him.

He pressed kisses there, softly and slowly, lips and tongue tracing the red tattoos etched into skin he had already memorized. He followed their lines downward until he reached the place where Mydei's weakness had once been. There, he bit down hard enough to break skin and gold welled anew.

Mydei drew in another sharp breath.

Was this a new habit? He wondered distantly. Now that his skin no longer resisted the marks Phainon left, it seemed the man had taken to biting until blood answered him. The sensation travelled straight through Mydei and his back arched beautifully in response, the reaction drawn from him without restraint.

Phainon felt it only fed the heat burning within him. 

His hand slid beneath the water and found Mydei's cock already hard, his grip closing around him with intent. At the same time, his other hand traced lower, fingers brushing along the rim of Mydei's entrance, testing the place with unhurried familiarity.

Mydei stiffened.

The breath he drew caught sharp and startled at the twin sensation. 

“Deliverer—!”

The cry tore from him sharp and broken 

Phainon ignored the hand that caught his wrist. He tightened his hold instead, stroking Mydei with intent while his fingers worked with practiced patience to ease him open. Mydei could do nothing but moan, breath catching, and breaking beneath the onslaught of sensation brought on by his beloved’s touch.

When Mydei bowed forward until his forehead met the warm boulder, his nape lay exposed.

Phainon did not miss the invitation.

He bit down again, teared skin open and gold spilled freely once more.

Nghh! 

The sound was torn from Mydei, unguarded and raw.

Rascal! 

The thought flared even as pleasure overwhelmed him and he swore faintly to himself that later, he too would leave his own marks in return, scratch until the Deliverer’s back bled beneath his fingers.

Soon, the tension within him snapped.

The release came too fast, too strong, and his mind went blank for a heartbeat as Phainon guided him gently to the side, holding him steady through it all.

He braced himself against the boulder as Phainon lifted one of Mydei's legs and positioned himself at his entrance.

The stone was warm beneath his palms, grounding him as the river continued its steady course around them. When he had urged Phainon to hurry, he had not expected such intensity to follow. Yet now that he had tasted it again, the restraint he once held slipped easily away.

He found himself wanting more.

He wanted Phainon's hands upon him, guiding him, claiming him without hesitation. He wanted to be taken and loved with such devotion that it threatened to pull him under entirely.

To drown in it if that was the cost.

He tilted his head back slightly, breath uneven as he waited for Phainon to move, knowing whatever came next, he would not turn away from it.

Phainon eased himself into Mydei inch by inch.

The sensation burned sharp and overwhelming, a blend of pain and pleasure that drew a strained breath from them both.

“Titans,” Phainon breathed unsteady as he held himself there. “Mydei, you are tight.”

The admission cost him too. The press around his cock was unyielding and intense and the ache flared along his spine as he forced himself to remain still.

A vein pulsed at Mydei's temple at the words. His breath broke uneven and he failed to keep himself together, saliva slipped past his lips as the sensation threatened to scatter him entirely.

“HKS!” He muttered hoarse and breathless. “You did not have to say it.”

All he wanted now was movement.

He shifted restlessly against the boulder, fingers dugging into stone, urging Phainon wordlessly to go on.

Phainon began to move.

At first, the pace was slow, measured as he drew his hips back and pressed forward again, letting Mydei's body adjust little by little to the stretch of him. He watched closely, felt every tremor, every sharp breath as the tension eased enough to allow him deeper.

Then he drew until only the tip of his cock remained.

And thrust back in fully.

Agh! 

The force of it tore a sound from Mydei, raw and unfiltered, a moan that turned into a broken groan Phainon had not heard in far too long. It echoed against the boulder and vanished into the rush of the river.

More. Wanted to hear more.

The thought burned through him with ferocity.

Mydei had always been this way to him. An existence that acted as its own aphrodisiac, drawing him in no matter the cycle, no matter the ending. Where destruction had once followed Phainon at every turn, Mydei had become something else entirely. A salvation that kept him from being swallowed whole.

Phainon's pace increased.

Each thrust landed deeper, surer until his cock brushed against that sensitive place within Mydei again and again. The effect was immediate. Mydei's breath broke into moans, his fingers clawing at the stone as his body arched helplessly into every movement.

Heat built rapidly between them.

Sweat gathered along Mydei's spine, slicking his skin as tears welled in his eyes, this time not from any grief and longing but from the overwhelming intensity of the action. They spilled freely, clinging to his lashes before slipping down to his cheeks as his mouth fell open, struggling for breath.

His legs began to tremble in no time.

They nearly gave out beneath him and he would have fallen into the water had Phainon not stayed close, the boulder alone no longer enough to hold him upright. Phainon held him there, pressing in relentless and devoted as though the act itself were a vow being carved into flesh.

Mydei could do nothing but take it.

And Phainon did not slow.

Phainon cursed softly under his breath.

Even after everything, his body remembered. It remembered Mydei.

Seeing him like this, legs weak, upper body flushed and trembling, Phainon felt himself harden further inside Mydei, the press growing heavier, more insistent. His vision narrowed until it held nothing but the sight of his beloved undone beneath his hands 

He had done this too. 

The water around them splashed and broke in time with his movements, ripples striking the stone as their bodies met again and again. Before Mydei could fully give in to the shaking in his legs, Phainon shifted his hold. He stepped closer, pinned Mydei back against the boulder and lifted the man's other leg.

The change in position stole breath from them both.

In this position, Mydei had no choice but cling to him. His arms wrapped tight around Phainon's shoulders, his legs hooked around his waist, seeking more. Their bodies locked together chest to chest.

Even beneath the water, nothing dulled the friction.

The slick heat of Mydei clung to him, each thrust sliding in and out with sinful ease, his lover's body responding honestly to every movement. It always had. There was no hiding from him. Not now. Not ever.

Mydei pressed his face into Phainon's shoulder, breath coming apart in broken sounds, his tears mixed with sweat and saliva. Phainon felt them warm against his skin and it only drove him deeper, holding Mydei closer, loving him harder as though there were no world beyond its movement.

Mydei's nails dug into Phainon's back, drawing blood just as he had sworn he would.

But the thought barely registered. He was far beyond intention now. Phainon took him apart too thoroughly for anything resembling restraint to remain. Whatever marks he had left were earned, not planned, claimed through the way Phainon moved within him, relentless and certain.

His head fell back as the crest of sensation rushed toward him, breath tearing loose from his chest.

Phainon was just as close, his body taut with it yet his eyes never left Mydei's face as though nothing else was important.

“That's right,” he murmured low and reverent. “Come for me, my love.”

He kissed along Mydei's neck, mouth open and seeking, his tongue brushing over his throat, tasting salt and heat as his pace broke into short hurried thrusts driven by need alone.

Mydei came with a sharp cry, his eyes rolling back as pleasure overtook him completely, his body tightening helplessly around Phainon.

The sensation dragged Phainon with him and only a few thrusts later, he followed, burying himself deep as release tore through him, spilling inside Mydei with a broken breath of his name.

They held each other there, shaking, clinging as though the world might fall away if they let go.

When Mydei's thoughts finally settled back into place, he let out a breathly huff that drew Phainon's attention just as his body eased back and Phainon slipped free of him.

“If you want more of that,” Mydei said, his voice rough and spent, “you are going to have to come back with me.”

Phainon laughed aloud, the sound bright and unguarded.

Had Mydei truly thought he would still run?

After this?

That would be foolish.

What a silly thing to say.

⪻────𖤓────⪼

Aedes Elysiae was just as Phainon had described it.

Fields stretched wide beneath the open sky and the air carried a gentleness Mydei had never known in his homeland. He found himself loving the place more than he had expected. He even found himself eating more honeycakes! They were somehow better this time, richer, and deeper in flavor thanks to the local ingredients Audata insisted upon using.

He did not complain and now his stomach was having their best days.

Before they went there, him and Phainon made certain to help the old man bring in his harvest. Phainon owed him at least that much. Mydei did it for a different reason. Gratitude, quiet and unspoken, for the hands that had taken Phainon in when he had nowhere else to go. Had the old man not done so, Mydei might have spent much longer searching for that fool.

It felt like a small thing, made smaller still by the fact that neither of them carried anything worth offering as a gift. 

But the old man did not want anything in return. Though his home lay far away from the polis, the tales of the Chrysos Heirs had still reached him. Such was the nature of the heroes of Amphoreus, their names carried even where roads thinned and voices grew scarce.

In the old man's eyes, what he had done was nothing more than a small offering to those who bore the weight of their world upon their shoulders. A quiet gift of hope, given in the belief that even the slightest easing of that burden still mattered.

And when he had seen one so utterly lost after peace had finally come, the old man had known what was required of him. 

It had only been a few days since their arrival and Hieronymus, a farmer, had challenged Mydeimos to a duel to which he had declined with careful politeness.

It turned out, the man was merely feeling sour over the amount of affection Mydei had been receiving from both his wife and son. The realization struck Mydei with quiet amusement.

He and Phainon truly were alike.

Was this what people meant when they spoke of fathers and sons sharing the same nature?

Mydei smiled to himself at the thought.

Meanwhile, Hieronymus drew his son aside, guiding him toward a quiet corner to speak of his concerns.

Phainon did not know what his father wished to say. Still, the way Hieronymus kept glancing to either side, ever watchful of both Mydei and Audata, was enough to make Phainon's ahoge nearly stiffen with attention. Curiosity stirred, sharp and insistent, at the sight of his father so unlike himself.

“What is it, Father?” He asked once he was certain no one else would hear them.

Hieronymus turned the question over in his mind. He was not even certain why he wished to ask it, only that the thought would not leave him. It lingered, insistent and oddly weighty.

The trouble lay low in how to give it shape.

He smoothed his expression until it held nothing at all, then he looked squarely at his son.

“Which of you takes it?”

“......”

Silence answered him 

For a heartbeat, Phainon wondered if he had misheard. Or perhaps his father truly meant what he had said. The notion struck him so unexpectedly that restraint failed him entirely, and laughter burst from his chest before he could stop it.

HAHAHAHA! 

Hieronymus only continued to stare, unblinking. It was the look of a man awaiting a solution, as though Phainon's reply might finally settle some difficult reckonig over in his head. He was serious. This had clearly occupied him for some time.

“Honey! Son!” 

Audata's voice carried across the field. Dinner was ready and neither her husband nor her son had returned. Only Mydeimos remained with her, stubbornly insistent on helping her cook as he tried to learn from her hands.

Phainon rose, still smiling, but leaned close enough to whisper before he went.

“I am delivering it.”

It was a simple statement, nothing more. Yet it left Hieronymus visibly pleased, as though he had just triumphed in some long-contested bout against the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos.

He stroked at an imaginary beard, nodding to himself.

“Good! Good!”

In a few more days, they were to return to Castrum Kremnos, and Phainon's parents had insisted on accompanying them. Unbeknownst to Mydei, plans were already being laid, threads pulled, and decisions made in quiet corners.

His and Phainon's wedding was already being prepared.

Before Audata and Hieronymus returned to the village, Audata could not keep herself still. She dragged her husband to visit Mydei's parents with eagerness that left no room for refusal.

And now, somewhere beyond Mydei's sight, Gorgo, his mother, and Audata conspired together.

Plotting behind their sons with knowing smiles and gentle determination. 

—end. :))