Chapter Text
Mydei would be lying if he said he wasn’t putting off seeing Aglaea. He’s made the trip to the hero baths more times than he can count, but this time, every step feels more arduous than the last as if his armor that clasped around his legs were holding him back. The blonde man was dreading seeing the gold weavers face, he knew this was her plan all along, and there was nothing he could do to stop his fate.
He’s spent the last couple of days experiencing everyday life for kremnoans and asking them about their current lives. The hardest conversation was with Krateros, his anger and disappointment flashes in his mind as he gets on the elevator.
“-see Hyacine.”
Someone sighs. “If it will make you not worry as much.”
Phainon.
Not wanting to eavesdrop, he makes himself known and enters the baths. His eyes naturally start to wander towards Phainon, he hasn’t spoken to him since the incident with the library book. Mydei mentally curses for letting himself get so agitated over something so small, so petty. If Phainon wanted to read a book about flowers to give to a potential unknown lover it shouldn’t bother him.
As Mydei’s eyes wander up to the Deliverer's face, that's when he sees beyond the facade.
It’s unnoticeable at first, but then he sees the deep bags that adorn his face with eyes that are puffy and sunken to match. His hair is slightly messier than normal and the clothes he wears are unkempt.
Phainon lowers his gaze to the floor at the feeling of being ogled. “I’ll talk to you later Aglaea.” The white haired man turns on his heel and heads for the exit. Mydei can’t resist watching him leave, as Phainon’s crooked cape drags in the ground, he frowns.
Just what was going on with him?
“Mydeimos.” Aglaea calls, pulling the crown prince out of his thoughts and stops him from staring daggers into the Deliverer's back.
“Is something wrong? Or is there news to share?” She raises a brow at him.
“I will undergo the trial of Strife, I’ve talked and shared experiences with my people, I think I’m almost ready.”
The woman smiles. “Thank you Mydei, thank you for your sacrifice.” One of her golden strings manifests and she carefully tugs at it. “I sense that there’s something else you want to ask me, please my ears are all yours.”
He sighs and presses two fingers to his forehead and bluntly asks. “What’s wrong with the Deliverer?”
Aglaea’s face falls but she recovers quickly. “He’s currently not feeling well.”
Mydei frowns once more, something he didn’t think he would be so much in these past couple of days. The feeling of unease rises within him at the lack of any additional information from the blonde woman. The crown prince sighs and turns to leave the hero’s quarters, if he wasn’t going to get information from her, he would find out one way or another.
“Mydeimos.” She calls. “You should talk to Phainon. I think he would appreciate it.”
“Hmph.”
-
‘Your condition is accelerating at a rate which I have not seen before.’ She says with a somber tone.
When he chooses to stay silent, she continues. ‘I really don’t want to have to put my foot down but,’ She rubs her temple. ‘I’m suspending you from any laborious missions until further notice.’
‘And for the love of Kephale, please go see Hyacine.’
The conversation that he had with Aglaea plays over and over again in his head as he lays with his arms sprawled out on his bed while staring holes into his ceiling. He needed to make up his mind on what to do about the flowers and thorns that threaten to take his life.
Why? Why did it have to him? His and Mydei’s relationship was something that he treasured so dearly. Their ability to be each other’s equals, but still chase to best the other. The trust that Mydei puts in him and his own trust that he gives so willingly to the crown prince. Anything that Mydei asked of him, he would do in a heartbeat.
A new wave of nausea hits him and he sighs. Letting his mind wander to that blonde haired man always results in the same outcome, a new flower to his “collection”.
At this point he has that stupid book memorized, but he always checks, longing for synopsis of something positive.
Daffodils are often given during a proposal of sorts. While the flower symbolizes ‘the one and only’, it has a negative correlation of meaning unequaled love.
Phainon groans and pathetically tosses the flower into his dresser drawer. The thought of Mydei glaring at him in disgust, pushing him away, it's almost as painful as the thorns that wrap around his lungs.
His session of moping is temporarily put on hold as a text brings him out of head.
‘Meet me at the rooftop in an hour.’
Phainon rubs his eyes and blinks a couple of times to make sure he’s seeing right. A feeling of nervousness washes over him. Does he know? Did he overhear? Phainon stands and starts to get ready, even if he tries to avoid him or get out of this potentially disastrous “hangout”, he fears the man would probably come knocking and drag him out of his room anyways.
He takes one final look at his drawer of flowers and reluctantly leaves his quarters.
~
“The prophesied Deliverer has finally blessed me with his presence.” Mydei teases.
“The crown prince of Castrum Kremnos..” Phainon puts his hands on his knees and takes in a couple of shallow breaths, the flowers and thorns limiting his air intake. “To what do I owe the honor of being called upon.” The white haired man smirks.
Mydei flashes a genuine, but sorrowful, smile at him. “I haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”
Phainon unknowingly raises his brows. “Can’t last a day without me?” Trying to still play along with the usual and easy banter that flows between them, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit his heart was beating so fast he thought he could pass out.
“Hmph.” Mydei crosses his arms and looks away. “A man misses his friend and you proceed to goad about how wonderful you are.”
Friend.
He swears he can feel the thorns tighten around his lungs. When Mydei turns to face him after he doesn’t respond, his face falls slightly and his gaze falls to the bricks on the rooftop.
“I wanted to apologize for the other day.” Mydei mumbles. “I shouldn’t have pushed for information that doesn’t concern me.”
If only he knew.
Phainon puts his hands up and laughs. “It’s alright. If every single Okheman was gossiping about a fellow chrysos heir I would want to know too.”
Mydei doesn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at Phainon. As if he was trying to decide if he was going to accept the answer that he gave him.
“There’s something else.” He sighs.
Phainon tries to not let it show on his face as his blood runs cold. He begs to any titan that will listen for him to not ask or know about his condition.
“I will be undergoing the trial of strife.” The blonde haired man states and puts a hand on his chest. “These past couple of days I have conversed with many kremnoans and have received insight that has allowed my foggy mind to make a clear judgment.” Phainon watches as he looks up to the dawn device. “Using these perspectives I will become the blade that protects the flame chase journey.”
Phainon can’t help but smile. Mydei’s conviction is what initially caused his whole world to orbit around him. He has no doubt in his mind will not only clear, but crush the trial of strife.
He puts a hand on Mydei’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, I know you will be victorious and Amphoureus will gain a new demigod.”
“Such high praise from the hero of Okhema.” He grabs Phainon’s hand that rests on his shoulder and pulls. The white haired man lets out a small noise of surprise. Their faces merely inches apart, he can feel Mydei’s breath on his lashes.
“What are you-?” Phainon goes to protest but sees Mydei go in for a punch.
He’s barely able to remove his hand from the grip of Mydei’s clawed hand and pulls himself back and narrowly dodges his fist.
“You little!” Phainon cries out.
Mydei bends his knees and puts himself in a defensive position with a mischievous grin. “Let’s duel.”
The white haired man huffs. “Do all Kremnoans fight dirty or is that only a special trait their crown prince has?”
“There is no phrase for ‘fighting dirty’ in the Kremnoan language. All is fair in war.” He lunges at Phainon but he swiftly dodges.
“Do your Kremnoan ancestors consider this war?” He swings and lands a hit on his forearm but is met with the lavish metal of Mydei’s gauntlets.
“Ow!” He yelps, shaking his hand to remove the sting that ricocheted through his body.
Mydei lowers his hands that blocked his face and looks at the white haired man’s hand. “Are you al-!”
Phainon pushes his own shoulder back and lifts his leg to kick Mydei right in the shin.
Mydei stumbles back and comically waves his hands to regain balance. “Hey!” He calls out.
Phainon puts his hands on his hips. “All is fair in war right?”
Then, Mydei launches himself into the air and puts out both of his hands to grab Phainon. If he hadn’t known any better he would have assumed time stopped in that very moment. He can’t help but feel like a hopeless titankin about to be ruthlessly slaughtered.
He feels the air get knocked out of his lungs as he’s plunged into the layers of now broken stone of a poor Okhemans house. As he opens his eyes to turn their tussle back in his favor he freezes.
Mydei, the crown prince and heir of strife, is straddling him. He feels the heat immediately rise to his face along with a dizziness that he can’t tell if it’s from the impact of his landing or the situation on top of him.
He goes to squirm out of his grasp but Mydei tightens his thighs around his torso, his hands no longer free as the blonde has them pinned above his head.
“Mydei let me go.” He warns, knowing that if this lasts much longer the flowers will escape from his chest.
“Yield.” He smirks and takes his free hand and pushes it down on his chest.
Kephale take me now.
“Okay, okay I-”
His surrender is interrupted by multiple coughs. Mydei is immediately off of him and helping Phainon onto his knees.
“Deliverer are you alright?” He asks with a concerned tone and a preemptive hand on his back.
But the coughing doesn’t stop, it worsens and he knows there’s no hiding it now, at least not from Mydei.
Finally, the flower stuck in his throat leaves his system along with golden blood. Black dots enter his vision and lands back on the cold stone roof.
“Phainon!” He screams.
The last thing he sees is daffodils and ichor covering a concerned Mydei.