Chapter Text
There's probably some tragic irony to this- the way Castrum Kremnos falls.
Like with everywhere else in this world, eventually, the Black Tide catches up. The second home Phainon's managed to make for himself, fallen to the same claws that had taken Aedes Elysiae from him.
It's not as if this entire tragedy had been unexpected. Dreaded, certainly, but their moving city had been running and running from the edges of the tide for as long as Mydei had been king. The only news that reaches them from merchants these days are of how one city or another has fallen to the Black Tide, how only three cities are left standing.
It's only two cities, now.
Phainon had been on the western borders of Castrum Kremnos when word of the Black Tide had reached him. It'd been a routine border patrol; clear up the vanguards of the Black Tide and prepare the city to start moving again if necessary. It's not a happy job; the tension and worry a constant ghost over all of their lives, but there'd been a stability to it. That even if the Black Tide were on their heels they'd at least be able pick up and run fast enough away from it.
The Black Tide comes from the east this time, from the direction of Okhema.
They don't have time to run, this time.
All the fighters they have are evacuating their civilians. Mydeimos had already signed a treaty with Okhema months ago, probably foreseeing- or at the very least preparing for- Castrum Kremnos' fall. That fact does little to soothe the frigid rakes of fear that are clawing away at the insides of Phainon's chest.
"Where's Mydei?" Phainon gasps out. He feels a bit like he's going to cry- an absolutely chaotic mess of worry, fear, and exhaustion running through him. He'd sprinted from the other side of Castrum Kremnos, picked up his blade and fought his way forwards towards the front lines. Krateros only looks at Phainon with a stone mask- lips thinned out in a line. He hasn't seen Mydei at all.
"Further up ahead." Krateros sounds twenty times his age. "He's holding off a- masked creature. Gave the rest of us evacuation orders." He stares up at Phainon with exhausted eyes, and Phainon feels the dread carve a hole in the pit of his stomach.
"The King is strong." Krateros says. "Have faith in him."
I do. Phainon wants to say. But not enough to risk him like this.
He turns on his heels and runs off in the direction Krateros indicated without another word. Please, Phainon begs, not him too.
The creature had already taken Cyrene from him. Now Mydei too? Phainon chokes on something between a laugh and a sob as he carves his way through the swathes of monsters. It's as if that thing existed solely to ruin Phainon's life.
He comes upon Mydei in the throes of battle. The immediate area of this fight is devoid of any other corrupted titankin, as if even all the other creatures in this hellish landscape can tell that something particularly monstrous is amongst them.
Even like this, Phainon can't help but think that Mydeimos is beautiful.
A blade of darkened ichor clashes along the gold of Mydeimos' gauntlets. Blows are exchanged so quickly that Phainon can barely track the battle. The white-haired man raises his broadsword, charging into the fight just in time to block a blow.
Ice runs through his veins. The Reaver pauses for just a brief moment, staring down at Phainon, who stands between it and Mydei's turned back.
Distantly, he's aware of Mydei thanking him for the save, but Phainon can barely hear him. His hands shake in a tight grip around the hilt of his blade. The Reaver had been going for Mydei's back. The Reaver knows.
The Reaver backs off, throwing Phainon's blade to the side; Phainon barely manages to keep his grip on his weapon. It's not possible. He reels. Perhaps Mydei had told someone else in the past- but how would the Flame Reaver know? The monster is nothing more than a mindless killer, incapable of understanding words, and much less so of Mydei's trust.
"Deliverer!" Mydeimos roars. Phainon flinches, then ducks out of the way of another slash of the Flame Reaver's blade. His head is too much of a mess. He can't focus. He needs to focus.
"Sorry." Phainon laughs shakily, raising his blade again. Mydei takes up position behind him, their backs pressed against one another.
As the battle draws on, that dread only sinks deeper into Phainon's chest. The Flame Reaver takes every chance it gets to slip between the two of them, blade always pointed towards Mydei's back. As if they exist solely to kill the Kremnoan king. Phainon only barely manages to block or deflect the hits. But as the fight drags on, even Phainon can feel himself flagging.
"Mydei." Phainon says, chest heaving as he gasps for breath. "Get back to Krateros."
"Absolutely not." Mydei hisses. "We need to pass through this area to get to Okhema. And I'm not leaving you to fight this bastard on your own." He swings outward, gauntlets glancing on the edge of the Flame Reaver's blade as the monster swings down at them once again.
"Mydei." Phainon repeats. He's begging, now. "That thing's going for your back. It knows."
Phainon can't see Mydei's expression like this, but he just knows that the Kremnoan's mouth is thinning out in visible displeasure.
"Normal foot-soldiers step onto the battlefield with the knowledge of the risk of their own deaths. What kind of role model would I be if I didn't as well?"
"Mydei." And all of sudden Phainon's tone turns biting, pivoting into sharp anger without warning.
Mydei ignores him, twisting around to strike once again at the Flame Reaver. The monster blinks away, appearing up in Phainon's face in the blink of an eye. Phainon swallows down his emotions and raises his blade to block.
It happens all too quickly.
Before Phainon can so much as react, the Flame Reaver blinks away again. What follows is the sickening sound of tearing flesh.
When the Reaver doesn't immediately jump at Phainon again, Phainon already knows what's happened.
"Mydei?" He says shakily, foot rooted into the ground. Mydi doesn't respond, beyond a wet, wheezing gurgle. Phainon wants to throw up. He'd been right there. He'd known the Flame Reaver could warp like that. If he'd been faster- If he'd paid more attention- If he'd-
"Mydei." Phainon chokes on the name. He finally manages to stiffly turn around. He doesn't want to look. He needs to look.
Mydei doesn't respond. He's already gone by the time Phainon collapses to his knees.
"Mydei." Phainon sobs. "Mydei. Mydei. Mydei." He bundles the king up in his arms, holds him close to his chest.
Mydeimos is still warm.
Phainon can't really remember what happens after that. Mydei's unseeing eyes and expressionless face are forever seared into his mind's eye.
He must make it out of the battlefield eventually, because when he comes to again, he's on his knees, hands braced in the dirt, choking on air and sobbing for breath. Everything aches yet his limbs are numb. His hands are still stained with blood- a horrible mix of black and gold. There's still bloodied filth running along the ground, seeping into his wounds.
Mydei, lovely, kind, strong, beautiful Mydeimos, lies still in Phainon's arms. The king is cold. There's not a drop of life left in him.
Castrum Kremnos is crumbling to the ground behind Phainon. What remains of their people are fields ahead of him. Phainon lets out a sob, tears finally falling free.
He hadn't even cried when Aedes Elysiae burned.
He clutches Mydei tighter, a hand coming up to hold the king's head against his shoulder. Phainon presses his lips against Mydei's hair.
"You called me the Deliverer." Phainon murmurs hoarsely. "But what kind of a hero am I? If I couldn't even protect you." The person these words are meant for is no longer here. Phainon's only companion is a cooling corpse. It hasn't even been and hour and Phainon is already missing him. Will be missing him for the rest of his life.
Phainon shakes, and shakes, and shakes.
"I'm sorry." He whispers. Sobs. Chokes on the words. "I'm sorry. I love you." He curls up over Mydei's body. The king's blood a frigid cold as it drips down Phainon's hands.
"Please come back to me."
Ah, it really is Aedes Elysiae all over again.
There are titankin everywhere in Castrum Kremnos. All the civilians and soldiers had long fled the city's confines, flocking towards the still-golden Okhema.
Castrum Kremnos had never been home to Phainon, not like how Aedes Elysiae had been, and now it won't ever be. But to Mydeimos, Mydeimos who'd been born here, then spent his entire life fighting to get back here-
Well, perhaps it's only fitting for a king to be buried in his land.
Phainon fights through the Black Tide with a single hand, the other arm curled tight around Mydeimos' corpse. Compare to the Flame Reaver, all the creatures crawling through the ruined city now are nothing more than small fry.
He pulls Mydeimos' cape around him, the fabric a bright red, a stark difference to the dreary shadows enveloping the rest of Castrum Kremnos. They reach the center of the city, in the fields just behind central palace. Nikador's blade of fury a damning image behind them, soft blades of grass stretching out before them.
"I don't know how Kremnoan funerals work." Phainon manages to finally say. He gently places Mydeimos in the grass, then marks out a segment in the field with his blade, and sets to digging with his sword. "But back in Aedes Elysiae, people would be buried in their family plots with bushels of boiled wheat." He digs the hole, letting the steady sound of shifting dirt drown out all his other senses.
"We don't have any wheat here." Phainon says, when the hole is finally dug. Gingerly he lifts Mydeimos and sets him in the grave. He presses his palm against Mydeimo's cheek, then reaches forward and arranges the king as nicely as he can. If this were any other time, Phainon might've even thought that he was sleeping. Even that same frustrated furrow in Mydeimo's brow is still there.
"But I hope this will be enough." Phainon continues. He begins filling up the grave. "You loved this city. You loved your people." He lines some stones along the edges of the upturned dirt. Pauses. Draws in a breath and chokes on his own words. "I'll look after them Mydei, I promise." Brings an arm up to his face. Tries to stifle the tears streaming down. "I'm sorry I couldn't look after you."
Krateros doesn't say anything when Phainon finally meets up with the remnants of Castrum Kremnos.
"I buried him with the city." Phainon barely manages to say. His voice cracks on the words. "It didn't feel right to bury him in Okhema."
Krateros' gaze rakes over Phainon's figure. Phainon can't find it in himself to meet the old man's eyes.
"I see." Krateros sounds just as exhausted as Phainon feels. "We'll have to march out to Okhema within the next two hours. This may be bold of me, but would you…" He trails off.
Phainon closes his eyes. He's so, so, tired. "Bring us to Okhema in Mydeimos' place?"
"It's what he asked."
Of course he did. Phainon huffs out a bitter laugh, head hanging low. "Alright." He finally says, after a long moment of heavy silence. "If it's as his majesty wishes, then let it be so."