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There was once a time where the world felt correct.
At some point, that all shifted, and he couldn't figure out when or why things changed.
He knelt on blood-soaked marble, staring at the sky, wishing the rain would wash him away the same way it did the blood from his body and the battlefield alike. The tang of copper and iron mixed with sweet petrichor as his world crumbled around him.
His world was falling to shreds.
The man he loved lay before him, eyes open, golden blood being washed away by the rain from where it had escaped like tears from his eyes.
His own blade broken and scattered across the field, some shards buried in the body of the man who lay dead in front of him.
He could only let out an anguished cry, as he had no way to undo the damage that had been done. The man was dead. Truly, truly dead.
He wanted to undo everything.
He wanted to rewind time.
He wanted to have the man back.
He didn’t care what it took.
He would bring the man back.
What he wasn’t aware of, was the fact that the man in front of him was immortal, and was currently doing his best to make it back to his own body, fighting against the invisible and bodiless cries of those who wished to drag him to the depths of the waters he found himself in every time he died.
But the grieving man forced himself to stand.
Forced himself to walk over to the dead man.
Forced himself to draw the fragments of his own weapon from the man’s mangled body.
Forced himself to not cry, no matter how much he wished to.
Tears were for after the dead were buried.
So he forced himself to close the man’s eyes.
Forced himself to pick the man up.
Forced himself to carry the corpse to a place shielded from the rain.
He covered the man with his cape, the man’s face was too painful to look at.
He didn’t see the wounds from the blade sewing themselves back together.
He walked the battlefield, picking up the fallen, friend and foe alike, so he could take them out of the pouring rain. Blood, black, red, and gold all mixed together, soaking into the fibers of his coat. The foes who turned to ash, he tried to carry whatever remained to the side of the field.
Too many lives were lost.
He didn’t see the point in such a waste of life.
Not when the one person he wanted to see at the end of the day lay dead.
Where was the point of war when the one you fought for was gone?
He didn’t see the man he loved stir. He was far too busy tending to the other corpses.
He didn’t hear the man gasp for air over the sound of the rain and his own heavy breathing.
He couldn’t even imagine the man being alive, after all, it was his own blade that struck the man down.
He dragged the bodies of the beasts that had gotten caught in the crossfire out of the rain that had become a downpour since he began his task, trails of broken earth lay in their wake only to be turned to mud and got washed away alongside the bitter emotions that once heated the air.
He wanted to make sure they all got their last rites. Even if he didn’t know them or their creed, he still prayed to Thanatos with every body he moved for their souls to find a silent, painless release from this world. He wished Castorice was here for the ones whose last breaths were taken in his arms, blood often pouring from massive wounds, mouths, ears, or eyes. He didn’t mind carrying the fragments of the titankin, mourning their loss of life as well. The Tide could corrupt, that much was true, but it would never be able to blacken his heart more than the death of the one he loved.
The rain now a torrent- battlefield washed clean of conflict, the casualties now safe from the crying skies and creatures who would prefer to feast upon them.
Only then does he even consider mourning what he has lost.
He mourned all those whom he was unable to save.
He mourned them so deeply that he felt hollow and empty, like his body was a shell meant to only hold tears.
He sat and hid behind his hands, as if the gods would find shame in his tears.
He does not hear the dead man remove the cape from himself.
He does not hear the gasps of life.
He does not hear the man approach him.
The deluge above silenced all else.
When the man felt fabric draped upon his shoulders, he froze so as to not move a muscle.
He was all alone, after all.
There were none to provide him comfort.
He was alone again.
So the arms that found their way around his burdened shoulders, felt like Thanatos had finally decided to claim him.
But somehow those arms were warm despite the armor that enveloped them.
He wanted to lose himself in them.
“Deliverer.”
The voice that called was familiar.
It could only have belonged to one man.
But that man was dead.
So surely-
Surely Thanatos had claimed him now, dragging him to the depths of the dark waters of hell.
“Deliverer.”
The voice spoke.
He did not find comfort in the voice of a ghost.
He believed the arms around him to be a lie.
Every touch caused him more pain.
So when he shook his head to try to rid his mind of the ghost that was haunting him-
Of all the ghosts that haunted him-
He felt resistance from behind.
He heard the sound of metal clashing with marble, rain, and gore before the soft touch of a bare hand held onto his own.
“Phainon.”
The voice was closer than ever.
His name being spoken in the voice of a dead man was cruel.
Surely Zagreus was not so cruel.
“Phainon. Are you in there?”
The soft, warm hands trailed down his neck.
He felt them trace the rays of the sun.
He felt them slide under his collar.
He felt.
“Phainon. You’re scaring me.”
Of course he would be afraid.
Anyone would be.
He was covered in the blood of all manner of creatures.
What a sorry sight he must be.
“If you don’t snap out of it, I’m going to drag you back to Okhema in a fucking coma.”
That-
Wait-
What?
Can spirits be crass like this?
“Okay, I’m going to count to ten, and if you don’t stand up and look at me, I will be dragging you by that titans-damned collar all the way to the baths and drown you in the hot bath.”
Did spirits threaten?
“One.”
Were spirits about to touch him?
“Two.”
Did he piss off a titan?
“Three.”
Surely not.
“Four.”
He had killed the object of his affections-
“Five.”
He was responsible for the lives that were lost-
“Six.”
Had he not done his part in clearing the field?
“Seven.”
Were the spirits of the fallen trying to claim him now?
“Eight.”
He would accept the punishment handed to him by the titan who he had wronged.
“NINE.”
He wanted to die.
“TEN.”
He surely deserve-
“ALRIGHT. I’M DRAGGING YOU. I’M NOT GOING TO USE THE CENTURY GATE, EITHER, YOU DUMB FUCKING HKS.”
He felt himself be yanked by the collar, causing his body to fall.
He finally, finally looked up at what had accosted him.
Golden eyes, hair like a blazing fire, red flames dancing across carefully trained muscle-
“There you are, you dumb fucking idiot.”
“Mydei- How-”
“I’m fucking immortal.”
“What?”
“How the fuck have you not known that by now? I literally die all the time. It’s one of the things people wont fucking stop talking about.” Mydei mimed incessant babbling with his free hand as he dragged Phainon still. “‘Oh, there’s Mydeimos the Undying! Can’t believe he died again! Oh my gosh there he goes, off to kill and be killed like always! Maybe he’ll stay dead this time! Knock it off dipshit, he’s like, a god or whatever.’” He grimaced when he was finished, still dragging Phainon by the collar he wore.
“You’re…”
“Immortal, yes. Get with the fucking program you absolute idiot.”
“How?”
“Fuck if I know!”
“But-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's your fucking fault for picking up a defective fucking weapon that broke from being so poorly forged to the point of bullshit fragility. It must have been the fucking intern who made the damn thing.”
“Can I-”
“No. You’re getting dragged all the way back to Okhema and you’re gonna fucking deal.”
Mydei looked at him with an awful smirk across his face.
“But that’s so far-”
“Yeah? We’re miles away from the city. This is going to be such an enjoyable ride for you. You’re the one who didn’t fucking listen.”
“It’s raining?”
“Yup. You’re gonna be a mutt covered in slime and blood and gore, but you’re alive, and that’s what fucking matters.” Mydei gave him a particularly rough tug. “Now, ask nicely and I’ll let you walk.”
“Mydei can I please walk?”
“You can do better than that.”
“Mydeimos, Heir Apparent to Castrum Kremnos, King of my heart, Lord of my dreams,” he winced as Mydei dragged him over a particularly rough piece of terrain. “Would you please let me walk alongside you? Would you let me help carry the burden of this life as we travel into the dawn together?”
Mydei dropped him rather unceremoniously. “Get up then.” He scoffed, not making eye contact with the man he had just dragged quite a distance in such a short span of time.
Phainon scrambled to his feet, a taxing endeavor due to the unstable earth below them, and looked at Mydei’s person. “Fucking hell, how are you so perfect?”
Mydei glared at him for that, arms crossed across his chest.
Phainon laughed as he saw the redness of the other man’s face, how his body blushed from the compliment.
“You’re laughing now?”
“Not at you.”
“What at then?”
“Myself.”
Mydei turned fully to face Phainon and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground. “You don’t get to laugh at the man I love. I simply won’t allow it.” He growled out the words, “So knock that shit off before I kill you for talking about him that way.” He dropped Phainon and continued to glare.
“Wait.”
Mydei started walking away.
“You love me?”
Mydei didn’t respond.
“Since when?”
Mydei continued walking, and Phainon had to jog to keep pace.
“Mydei,” he was pleading now. “Please tell me that wasn’t a lie.”
The blonde stopped so quickly that Phainon ran right into him, which he had apparently been ready for. “I always have, you fucking idiot. Seriously, you’re the most blind person on this fucking planet and we literally have a blind woman giving us orders.” His voice was softer than normal as he said that. “So don’t talk shit about the man I fell for.”
Phainon stared at Mydei. All he ever wanted was right in front of him, and had just told him everything that he needed to hear.
Because of that, he started crying.
Because of his tears, he got whacked in the face by an absurdly strong demigod, which landed him on his ass.
Phainon laughed, holding a hand to the spot Mydei had hit him.
“Because I've loved you since I first saw you!”
“I know that.”
“WHAT?”
“Seriously, the dumbest fucking idiot. I just had to fall in love with someone so fucking dumb, didn’t I?”
The trip back to Okhema was filled with similar bickering and confessions of love…
So basically a normal day in a single turn of the page that is Amphoreus.