Work Text:
"You're leaving... tomorrow?" The Deliverer's voice was quiet, almost hesitant. Mydeimos could have sworn that he saw sorrow cross his face. If there was, it had been pulled back into a mask of the nonchalance that the world knew so well.
"I am."
"Haha, that's rather soon. I knew you'd be heading to Castrum Kremnos after we defeated the Flame Reaver, but..." the Deliverer fell silent.
"I must leave. For the sake of the people of Kremnos; I must leave before they even dare to follow me. I cannot bring myself to lead them back into the eternal cycle of suffering and strife," Mydeimos sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "If I had, what sort of king would I have been?"
"You are so insufferably good," the Deliverer huffed as they continued their walk in silence. Golden sunlight poured over the gardens, but no one was there to witness them. It was the Parting Hour, and Okhema lay asleep.
Mydeimos took the time to ponder what that meant. He had never viewed himself as... anything other than a Chrysos Heir (and now, subsequentially, a demigod). He wasn't sure he could. He had no idea what he wanted to be, if given the opportunity, because he was fated to die as Strife incarnate.
But he liked the idea of being good. He had always fought for the good of Amphoreus, but to be the good itself... it sounded nice (and it sounded even sweeter when the Deliverer said it).
They made their way full circle from where they had begun. The door to the Deliverer's chambers. The two paused, still and silent for a moment. "So... is this goodbye, or will I see you once more before you leave?" The Deliverer asked.
"I... believe that I may see you tomorrow. But I wished to come to give you a different sort of goodbye. The other Chrysos Heirs have done much for me, but I wished to bid you farewell first," Mydeimos admitted. "After all, we have fought many battles together. I found it only fitting."
A hesitant hand reaching out to hold his hand, calloused hands sliding over metal gauntlets. Not one to back down, Mydeimos did not shy away, and instead held onto that hand (like a lifeline). "Thank you," the Deliverer said at last. "For your help both during the Coreflame Trial, and during our fight with the Flame Reaver. I owe you."
"I hope there is never a circumstance to come where you shall even the scores. If there is a battle in this life that I cannot win, I fear it may be too much, even for you."
"Is this your way of saying you want me to lose this competition?"
A fond, sad smile. "If you say so."
Silence hung heavy in the air, and yet within the look they exchanged was a conversation long enough to last forever.
Mydeimos found himself leaning in as the Deliverer did, so close he could feel soft breath against his skin. "Is it selfish of me to ask you to stay...? Just a little bit longer," the Deliverer pleaded.
"No," Mydeimos breathed. "Not at all."
The Deliverer nodded slowly. He leaned in to close the gap between them (at last, at last, Mydeimos' heart sang). The soft press and drag of their lips against one another's was sweet. Mydeimos took note of how the Deliverer tasted (perhaps something to look back and remember fondly as he fought back the Black Tide). As they drew apart, the Deliverer's face melted into a smile so irresistible that Mydeimos could not help but kiss him again.
The Deliverer held his hand tighter yet, and slowly walked backwards, guiding them through the door and into his chambers. It was a simple, standard room. Two bed-chairs, a small bed itself, a bath in the corner, a dresser, a desk, a balcony. The curtains were drawn to simulate twilight, and the door shut behind them, further darkening the room. Here, in this room, masks were taken off. They were simply there. Background characters in a world made solely for them. No longer the center of focus, but simply man.
"I wish to give myself to you. Before you leave," Phainon whispered. "Please."
Mydei's forehead pressed against Phainon's, gentle and reassuring. "I would want nothing more." Mydei said this impulsively, ignoring the part of him that knew of the heartbreak that would come.
Their lips met again in a sweet press, moving in sync to one another. With an awful wrench of his heart, Mydei pulled away with sad realization. "Deliverer..."
Phainon looked up in despair, as if he too realized that this moment could never last. "Just... just tonight. I need you to stay."
"But... it will hurt you even more when I leave," Mydei whispered helplessly. "I don't want to do that to you." His voice was hoarse and strained as he fought back what he wanted; to focus on what Phainon needed (but he needed this too...). He didn't want to hurt him.
Phainon's hands came up to cradle Mydei's face. "I want to give you something to remember. I want you to remember this even if you begin to forget yourself."
Mydei knew what he meant: I want you to remember that you were loved.
A shuddering, breathless sigh. Mydei wrapped his arms around Phainon, head dropping down to rest in the crook of Phainon's neck as arms slung around his own neck. "It won't hurt me, Mydei. When this is all over... I'll come find you. You'll give me something to look forward to. Something to fight for.”
Deliverer, we both know that will not happen. Only one can usher in the dawn.
I want you to live without the agony of what could have been. I know how awful it is to let go of your love.
I wish I could stay with you, Deliverer.
So many things that he could—should—say. So many things that he didn't say. Instead, the words that left his lips were, "alright, Deliverer."
And so, Mydei pulled his head up to look Phainon in his eyes (his beautiful eyes that reflected his destiny like brilliant stars).
Phainon helped Mydei unbuckle and unclasp his armor, smiling all the while. There was a sadness to the joy, but that only made the moment stronger. He placed Mydei’s gauntlets on the desk, and with it the rest of his armor.
Mydei felt bare without it. He only used his armor for convenience, because it was better if he died as few times as possible during a battle. He didn’t need to miss anything while he was dead. But he still felt exposed. Phainon’s hands slid around his waist to pull him closer, and Mydei reciprocated the action.
They held one another for a moment before melting back into another kiss that was languid and bittersweet. Mydei trailed his lips down Phainon’s cheek, his jaw, his neck. They stopped at the base of his throat, and Mydei reached out to pull at his shirt.
They settled back onto the bed, kneeling on the sheets and pulling at one another’s clothes. The only sound Mydei could hear was that of the bath and their breathing.
“I feel like now is the time I should tell you I’ve never done this before,” Phainon said with a breathless laugh. His smile looked like it was trying to stretch his face out of shape. Mydei had never seen him so… happy. If Mydei had know that this would make him smile like that, he would have done this long ago.
“That’s alright. I have. I can show you what to do,” Mydei said as he cast Phainon’s shirt to the side on the floor.
“Oh? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re very handsome,” Phainon stated, smiling sadly.
“It was long ago,” Mydei whispered. “I don’t know if history will remember his name.”
Silence, and then a hand on his cheek, soft and sweet. “I know you will. I can only imagine that will be enough for him.”
“Thank you, Deliverer,” he said quietly. Mydei reached up to take the hand on his cheek. He set his palm on the back of Phainon’s hand and laced their fingers together. He pressed a kiss into the palm of the Deliverer’s hand, and his eyes went up to Phainon’s face to check for a reaction.
Phainon flushed and smiled. “I wish I’d said something before…” his voice was quiet and his eyes were sad. Mydei set a kiss against the inside of his wrist, lips moving up his arm with a strange gentleness.
“You can’t change the past. Do not let this weigh on your heart,” Mydei instructed, repositioning himself to hold Phainon close.
“You’re rather poetic tonight,” Phainon laughed, kissing Mydei again. They melted into each other’s arms like that was where they belonged.
“Deliverer, can you promise me something?”
“Anything,” came the whispered response.
“Swear to me that you will be the one to usher in the dawn,” Mydei said firmly. “It is selfish of me to ask this of you, but I need your word. You are the Deliverer of Amphoreus, and you must bring dawn to our world.” He cradled Phainon’s face in his hands as he spoke.
“But… Mydei, I don’t want you to die,” Phainon said helplessly, voice breaking. “I can’t. Not without you.”
“You know you can. And I’m so sorry that it must be you. You don’t deserve this, you deserve a happy life, and I wish I could give that to you. Death has been a long time coming to me, and when I die, I will be at peace.”
“You can’t do this. You— you want me to kill you, and then you expect me to live without you… I can’t do this, Mydei,” Phainon whimpered, bowing his head down and resting it in the crook of Mydei’s neck. “Not without you. I love you.”
“And I’m so sorry,” Mydei whispered, holding Phainon close. “I know it’s selfish to ask. But if I must die… I would rather die at the hand of the man I love rather than the enemy. In our next life, Deliverer, I swear to you that you will be happy. We will be happy. I promise.”
“Titans above, Mydei, we’d better be,” Phainon said hoarsely. “…We’d better be,” he echoed again, his voice a whisper against Mydei’s neck. “I wish you could see the dawn with me.”
“Believe me, Deliverer, I have seen something that makes the dawn pale in comparison,” Mydei said, looking down at Phainon, who looked up at him with a wobbly smile. “…Phainon, you are η αυγή μου. My dawn.”
“You’re—“ Phainon sputtered. “You’re making me cry. That’s… that’s not nice.”
Mydei barked a laugh, squeezing Phainon tighter. “You are such a child.”
“That’s not nice either…” Phainon trailed off. “It’s my turn to ask something of you.”
“Ask away, η αυγή μου.”
Phainon’s expression twisted in some blend of scarlet-faced joy and sorrow at the name. “Turn around.”
Mydei raised an eyebrow, but complied, shifting so he sat with his back to Phainon. The latter set one hand on Mydei’s spine, fingers slowly moving down. “Tell me where it is.” Mydei knew what Phainon spoke of: the one spot on his body that would kill him. “I don’t know what the tenth thora-whatever bone is.”
“Tenth thoracic vertebrae,” Mydei snorted, “and you say that I’m illiterate.”
“That’s not even close to what illiterate means. And you can’t even do math.”
“…You have me there.” Mydei said with a grin. Phainon’s hand slid down his spine, sending chills with it. “Stop. There.” Phainon rested his hand against the tether connecting him to the world of the living. Once severed, he could never go back. He had been skilled (lucky) enough to have evaded any injuries there.
His hand moved away, and Mydei almost flinched when Phainon’s lips pressed against his spine. They were soft and made his skin tingle. “I will protect you until I can’t anymore,” he whispered, arms wrapping around Mydei’s waist.
Mydei turned his neck to look back at Phainon, who was littering kisses across his back. “You mean so much to me, Mydei.”
“Tell me his name.”
“Whose name?” Mydei asked.
“The man you loved. When you die, his name dies with you. I don’t want that to happen.”
Mydei was quiet for a moment. “Hephaestion.”
“I had a feeling. You looked extra sad when you talked about him in the garden. I’m sorry you lost him,” Phainon said quietly.
“It was his time… and when my time comes, I will see them all again. There will never be another man like Hephaestion, but there will never be another man like you, either. I am so glad that I was able to share the Flamechase journey with you.” Mydei had only cried thrice in his life. Once, when he learned about how his mother died unjustly in a fight that was rigged against her, all for his sake. A second time, when he lost Hephaestion. A third time, when he’d visited Castrum Kremnos, his should-have-been home, with one of the Trailblazers from beyond the sky and Phainon.
And now, a fourth time, as he turned to embrace Phainon. He held onto Phainon like he held onto rocks in the Sea of Souls. Scared to sink, to drown, even though he knew that he was alright, the fear of being human was deep in his bones.
Phainon lay down on the bed, and Mydei went with him. They were both crying now, holding on to one another like a lifeline, chests heaving as they cradled one another.
It was only after they calmed down, with their foreheads pressed against one another and their legs tangled together did they speak again. Phainon busied himself with tracing his fingers over the red lines on Mydei’s body. The touch was featherlight and he suppressed the urge to squirm as fingers trailed down his side.
“Do you hear the prayers of your people? Now that you’re the Demigod of Strife,” Phainon murmured curiously.
“I do.”
“Is it overwhelming?”
“No. It’s more like… background noise. I can focus on them and hear them if I want to, but I couldn’t possibly hear them all. It’s strange. I can hear everything: I know what they’re praying for, and I know who it is. It’s… comforting. It makes me feel good that people trust in me, but I suppose that part is a bit overwhelming.”
“When you leave, I’ll pray to you. I’ll pray every day,” Phainon vowed, squirming so he could bury his head in the crook of Mydei’s neck. “Will you listen?”
“Of course I will. And… if you are ever in trouble that you cannot overcome, I want you to call for me. I will come to help you.”
“Thank you, Mydei.”
“Anything for you, η αυγή μου,” Mydei said, hiding his face in Phainon’s hair.
“Will you stay the night?” Phainon’s voice was hopeful and nervous as he fidgeted with Mydei’s hair. He pulled back to disassemble the braid, setting the metal cuff in Mydei’s hair on the bedside table. Phainon twirled soft red-and-blonde hair in his fingers, bringing one strand to his lips to kiss it.
“Of course I will.”
“Thank you.” Phainon wrapped his arms around Mydei, settling down at last. He was quiet before once again breaking the silence. “You’re warm.”
Mydei clicked his tongue. “And you’re cold. You’re lucky that I don’t mind.”
“I am lucky.” The arms wrapped around Mydei held him just a little bit tighter. “I love you. No matter what happens, I love you.”
“I love you too, η αυγή μου.”