Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The endless, rosy dawn of Okhema was beautiful, but Stelle was finding it grating after a few days in the city. Even on the Express, in the expanse of space, they simulated day and night via the lights of the train. Here, the best she could unearth were some curtains to block off the balcony of the room provided for her and Dan Heng. Not that she would have been getting any sleep had it been dark out—but it might have at least calmed her down to sit amongst the stars for a while.

The whole thing is making it hard to clear her head.

The memory that the titan had shown her… It lingered in the back of her mind, even after everything else that had happened. She always suspected that her connection to the Stellaron Hunters ran deep, but the blatant confirmation made her stomach churn in a way she would never have expected.

Dan Heng would be more than happy to lend an ear. They were in this together, she knew, but for now Stelle couldn’t bring herself to disturb his rest. He’d probably feel frustrated with her for spending the so-called night wandering the streets instead of confiding in him, but that was a conversation to deal with tomorrow.

March would say she was brooding too much if she were here.

Before she realizes, Stelle finds herself sitting down on a bench on the other side of the baths, looking out over Kephale’s resting place. The little pavilion she’s found is out of the way enough to provide cover from the curious eyes of Okhema’s citizens. If she’s going to brood a bit, then this is as good a spot as any to do so.

“You will always be able to find a safe haven by my side,” the Kafka in her memories told her. Was it something she had once earnestly said, or something spun together with scraps of memory to answer the current Stelle’s questioning? If she were being honest with herself, Stelle probably preferred the latter. At least then she could imagine that Oronyx had gotten it wrong. Because if it were true, if the Stellaron Hunters had once been a family to her, then how could they have abandoned her like they did? Leaving her with a power she couldn’t even begin to understand, with no memory of herself? Perhaps, at one point, she knew this would happen—maybe it was even her idea. That thought didn’t make the current version of herself feel any better.

“Having trouble getting to sleep?”

Stelle jumped, nearly losing her balance. That was—

“My apologies—I didn’t mean to startle you,” Phainon says, standing a few steps behind her. His armor caught the light just so, making him look every bit the hero he presented himself as. There was a hint of a smile on his face, and if she didn’t know better, she would assume he was holding back laughter.

“I’d guess you can’t sleep either?” She shifts, making space for him to join her. It makes sense that he would still be awake, really. She doubted that it was a case of simple insomnia, though—by his own admission, he had a lot to consider before the ritual in the morning.

Phainon does laugh then, only a bit, as he sits down next to her. “Something like that.”

They sit together in silence for a beat, then two. Phainon looks as if he’s writing and rewriting what to say in his head, and Stelle is happy to give him the time to do so.

He sighs, giving her a sidelong glance. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but… are you doing alright? I’m sure that this isn’t what you were expecting when you first arrived here. If there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, I hope you’ll let me know.”

So much for pleasantries. Was he always like this?

“Shouldn’t I be the one checking in on you?”

His reaction is simple to predict. The briefest flash of confusion across his face, like he hadn’t planned for that response, before his walls went back up just as quickly. He was still figuring her out, and that meant trying to parse what she wanted him to be.

They were much more similar than Stelle liked to admit, even to herself. But really, wasn’t it so much easier to remain a blank slate? To let someone mold you into whatever they needed you to be? When the alternative was a constant, barely contained rage, there was no better choice. Phainon, she suspected, had come to the same conclusion.

“I appreciate the concern, friend, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m merely a little restless.” He waves it off, which she should have expected. “It’s not fair to answer a question with a question, you know.”

Speaking with him was almost frustrating. They could talk in circles for hours, trying to goad the other into divulging enough information to chart the perfect path forward in their discussion. Stelle didn’t have the energy right now. It was exhausting to keep up with normally, and worse when your conversation partner used the same strategy as you.

“You’re right, I guess. I wasn’t prepared for… everything.” She sighs, resting her head on the pillar next to her.

If he’s surprised at how easily she gave in, he doesn’t let it show. “Is there anything in particular on your mind?”

“The memories Oronyx showed me. I don’t know what to think about them all.”

“Was it something you had forgotten?”

A loaded question, even if he didn’t realize it. She and Dan Heng decided it was best to keep most personal details to themselves for now, but Phainon had placed his trust in her already. Somewhere along the way, she returned the sentiment. A little of the truth couldn’t hurt at this point.

“I have no memory of anything from before I boarded the Express, to tell you the truth. It’s too long of a story to get into now, but… the people I traveled with before saddled me with a pretty terrible burden. I thought that at least here I wouldn’t have to think about it, but I’m not that lucky, I guess. I don’t understand how what I saw can be true,” she says, though even as she’s speaking, Stelle finds herself looking away. She wasn’t one to get embarrassed, but the feeling of being so open with someone outside of the Express was getting to her.

“Do you hate them?” he asks, any sort of teasing gone from his tone. His fingers drum against the stone, absentminded and anxious.

It was something she had thought about often, but had never allowed herself to discuss with anyone. The crew would listen, of course, but that didn’t make it a simple conversation to have by any means. She takes a chance to look back towards him, but still can’t meet his eyes. “Maybe? Kafka—she’s the one who woke me up, and I think I trusted her. I should resent her at least, but…”

“I know what you mean.” The grin on his face looks more tired by the minute.

“I figured you would.” She says, and means it.

“Stelle, could I ask you something?” He waits for her approval, a quick nod on her part, before going on. “Do you think that I’m about to make a mistake?”

It felt like the answer should be obvious—of course, it was a mistake. But the initial impulse to say yes comes and goes, and Stelle pauses to think over how to phrase this for him. It could be that it was selfish or detached to think so, but she wasn’t sure that any gain could be worth watching him lose some part of himself.

“It’s hard to say. I understand wanting to do what you can to help, but… well. I think that the idea of ‘Strife’ suits you, but not so well that I can picture you as its god.”

“You hardly know me, though.”

He wasn’t wrong, exactly. The situation in Amphoreus hardly lent itself to something as casual as getting to know someone. But from her perspective, what they had been through already taught her what was important about him. Besides, sitting with him like this felt right, like they had already done this a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times again. She wanted to, at least.

“I apologize, I—” he sighs, continuing on before Stelle has a chance to respond. “That was rude of me to say. You just have a knack for seeing right through me.”

“Is this what’s been keeping you up, then?”

With Kephale as their only witness, Phainon’s exterior is cracking enough to allow Stelle to coax a moment of sincerity out of him. She didn’t doubt he was genuine sometimes, most of the time even, in their prior interactions, but it was painfully obvious that there was more to him than what he allowed others to see.

He pulls at the choker around his neck, fidgeting under her gaze. “Everyone has been trying to assure me I am the right person to succeed Nikador, but I really don’t think that’s true.”

“Sorry, I’m probably not making this any easier for you.”

“No, no. Believe it or not, talking to you like this puts my heart at ease. Your honesty is refreshing.” He says, and Stelle didn’t realize that she had been hoping for him to look at her again until he had. The sincerity in his eyes throws her ever so slightly off beat.

“Do you think the others are lying to you?”

Maybe he never wanted her assurances that divinity was the right choice—he simply needed someone to tell him he was right to be afraid of it.

“I think that they’re saying what they want to hear. My becoming Strife would be the best outcome for Amphoreus.” There’s a bitterness in his voice that’s hard to pick up on, but not impossible.

“But not for you?” She already knows it isn’t, but she’s curious if Phainon will be straightforward with her about this.

He answers immediately, and while it’s not a lie, it’s also not what she asked. “Aglaea thinks it will be good for me.”

“Do you resent her?”

He takes a moment to think, but keeps his eyes on hers while he does. It feels as if he’s trying to discern what hidden meaning might have been laced into the question, if any. “The prophecy gave me a purpose, but without her guidance, I wouldn’t be where I am now. There is no Deliverer without her.”

Once upon a time, Stelle might have said something similar about Kafka—or any of the other Stellaron Hunters, for that matter. Calling it a “script” or a “prophecy” didn’t make much difference—it all seemed just about the same from where she stood. A less charitable part of her wonders if Aglaea would lead Phainon down the same path Kafka had taken her.

“And being the ‘Deliverer’ is really what you want?”

For a moment, he stares at her, and the blank look in his eyes would be unnerving if she didn’t understand so well. His façade has crumbled completely, and he doesn’t have a usual, perfect answer to her question. He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it a second later.

Before she can think better of it, Stelle reaches out and takes his hand. It’s for her comfort as much as his, something to keep them present. The contact startles Phainon enough to shift his gaze, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, he moves ever so slightly closer, readjusting their hands so that he can run his thumb over her knuckles. She’d call him bold if she hadn’t been the one to start this.

“Thought so.” She smiles at him, ignoring the anxiety bubbling up in her chest. Being this vulnerable was foreign to her, and the expression on his face told her that he felt the same. It wasn’t unwelcome, though, not at all. “I don’t want to be a hero either, if it makes you feel any better. But it’s an excellent distraction, don’t you think?”

That gets him smiling again, even if only a little. “Usually, it is. The ritual just has me thinking.”

Stelle hums in response, letting the moment drag on a little bit longer. His palm is warm against hers, and as nice as it is, she figures that a change of pace might be a better distraction for the both of them.

“Why don’t you show me around if we can’t sleep anyway? It’ll help get your mind off it.” She stands, but doesn’t let go of his hand yet. “You are supposed to be my host.”

Phainon hesitates, looking between their joined hands and her face. He makes no move to let go either; if anything, he holds on a little tighter. “Of course. But you found a great spot all on your own—this is one of my favorite views.”

It was easy to see why. The entire city was beautiful, but she particularly liked the area in and around the baths. And maybe it was the time, but there had been no one else who walked even close by the whole time they were here. It could be that no one dared to disturb a Chrysos Heir with his guest, of course, but she would choose to believe it was good luck.

She tugs on his hand, not too hard, but enough to urge him to his feet. “Then show me your other favorites.”

That finally gets a smile back on his face.

Chapter Text

After so long in Amphoreus, the pavilion overlooking Kephale had become something of a usual haunt for Stelle. A place to collect her thoughts, to stop herself from spiraling out of control. Sometimes, even, it was a beautiful view. It had started with Oronyx, and since Trianne’s passing, it felt as if she was here every day. The role of the Express was becoming murkier by the minute, and the rest of the crew was farther away than ever. Dan Heng was–well, he always worried about her, didn’t he? Now though, he was here with her half the time, looking over old photos and picking out places in Okhema they wanted to show the others. He was spoiling her a little.

“We’ll see them soon,” Dan Heng had said, too many times to count. The comfort might have been fleeting, but it was more than welcome, especially when her head was swimming in uncertainty.

After all, if she became a demigod like the Chrysos Heirs planned, would she even be able to leave? Then again, escape seemed just as impossible as a mortal. And really, she couldn’t say no. Aglaea probably knew it, even if she pretended otherwise. So Stelle finds herself at the pavilion, because what else is there to do than await her trial?

As she rounds the familiar corner, she spots someone in her usual spot, pacing back and forth. Usually she would turn around, maybe sulk for a bit until she found something to distract herself with. In this case though, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

Phainon was here. A surprise and also not, considering how she had been avoiding him as of late. It was bound to happen eventually that he’d seek her out more blatantly. It wasn’t his fault–he had been nothing but kind to her, to the point where his understanding had begun to throw her off her rhythm. With things as they were now, could she afford to take up so much of his time? With her head in the clouds, being a friend to him felt impossible. 

Running from him so directly, though? No, no, that wasn’t an option.

“Haven’t seen you lately,” she says, stopping a step over the threshold.

He tenses up upon hearing her, and the weak smile he gives her as he turns around makes her heart twist.

“Stelle,” he says, hesitant, but voice steady, “I’m sorry to bother you. Could we talk, if you have the time?”

“Not a bother at all. Did you need something?”

“I want you to reconsider taking on the coreflame,” he says, as if it were as simple as he made it sound.

He shifts his weight once, twice, and he averts his gaze from hers when she doesn’t respond. But honestly, what was there to say? He had to know that it was an irresponsible request–he was there when her candidacy was put forward, and no doubt he had spoken to Aglaea on the subject. If it was a bad idea earnestly, why not try to convince her to rescind the offer?

Stelle shakes herself from her thoughts. “That isn’t really something I can do.”

While it took her what felt like an age to formulate a response, his comes instantly. “Of course you can. No one will be upset with you if you were to change your mind, I promise.”

She hesitates again, unsure what he wants from her. There was no straightforward way through this conversation, no obvious path she could take to appease him while also performing the role she had been cast in. Not without lying to him, at least, and that felt worse somehow than potentially disappointing him. So, she’ll have to disappoint him. 

“Just think about it. We can find someone else, it doesn’t have to be you–it shouldn’t,” he continues on, taking her silence for a denial. Maybe it was.

It was laughable, the whole situation. A creeping, familiar feeling grasps at her heart, the same thing she had come here to avoid. Seeing him was enough to wake it up, and now as this conversation spun out, she wasn’t sure it would go back to sleep. “Do you think I can’t do it?”

“What?” Her question shocks him into really looking at her, finally. “No. Obviously you of all people could, that’s not the problem here.”

“Then what is the problem, Phainon?”

“Nothing about this is right, don’t you see that? Forcing you into this, tying you down here… I won’t just sit by and let you do this.”

“What I do isn’t for you to decide.”

“Why are you being so obstinate about this?” He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated.

“There is no other choice. You’re saying there is, but… Finding someone else isn’t an actual option,” she says, and even if Phainon pretends otherwise, it’s obvious that he knows this as the truth in his heart. If he didn’t, then why else would he have waited so long to try to change course? Why come to her, the only person who Aglaea would allow to call the whole thing off? “I know it didn’t work out, but you came to the same conclusion.”

“Yes, but I—”

The unease bubbling up from the pit of her stomach, the urge to run, ringing in her ears. He’s too close and too far at the same time, getting farther away as they speak, even though she knows he’s standing right in front of her. What had started as a fog over her mind was becoming something much harder to ignore. Stelle moves to leave, to find somewhere, anywhere else, to be. She should have turned around when she saw him, trusted that impulse in her to keep her distance. 

“Wait, please,” he calls after her, and of course, she couldn’t deny him. She stops, hardly having put any space between them. He waits until she turns to face him again before continuing on. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out so harsh. I just… wish this wasn’t happening.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I accepted a long time ago what I would have to become. All the Chrysos Heirs had time to decide. Making you into an Heir so suddenly isn’t–”

“You’re overthinking it.” 

“Stelle, can you please be honest with me? All of this will stay between us, you know,” he sighs, and how hard he’s trying to bridge the gap here would be sweet if not for the circumstances. 

“You’re the one who said we hardly know each other. I don’t get why you’re being so insistent.” She can hear the words as they’re spoken in her voice, yet it feels so far away, as if she were watching someone else. 

“Are you always this stubborn…?” When did he get so close? The weight of his hand on her shoulder comes out of nowhere, but isn’t quite unwelcome. He’s trying so, so hard to reach her and yet everything he does makes that deep, corroding guilt crawl back up her throat. “Look, I’m not going to force you. But talking to you before my trial helped me more than I think you realize–if you’re going forward with this, then I’d like to at least offer you the same.”

He grabs her hand suddenly, and while it helps to ground her, the ritual is suddenly looming more prominently than ever in her mind. It’s fast approaching, and maybe Phainon is being particularly severe, but his concern is genuine. She wished it wasn’t, because being the subject of his panic made everything snap into place.

She’s being plunged into the sea, snapped back to her body as it’s dying. If he’s shocked by how tightly she holds onto his hand, at least he doesn’t mention it, because if she can’t anchor herself, somehow, she really might drown.

She let him lead, sitting down at his side on the far edge of the pavilion. “I don’t think I can talk about it. I just… can’t. Maybe afterwards?”

“That’s fine too.”

She allowed herself fall back into his orbit.

It’s hard to tell how long they sit together–the unchanging sky and the empty streets allow for time to slip by unnoticed. He was a bit awkward about the whole thing–hardly looking at her outside of quick, cautious glances out of the corner of his eye. Observing her, waiting for any telegraph of what she wanted from him. The tightness in her chest subsides, slowly but surely, and Stelle finds it in herself to enjoy his attention, just for now. When she shifts her weight to lean on him, he shifts in turn to make it more comfortable for her.

Serene silence like this was rare lately, and she had a feeling it would be some time until they would be able to experience it again. She wanted to relax into it as much as possible, to let the day go on endlessly. But he was here to try to get her to open up, and as she calmed down, a piece of her was craving the same. He understood her, and that was maybe the worst part of this whole situation they had found themselves in. He could see too easily through her performance.

“Do you actually think it would be better if someone else took on the trial?” She asks, her voice quieter than she had meant it to come out.

He laughs a little, dull and humorless. “Obviously.”

“No, I mean… Would it be better for Amphoreus? Or is it what you want, personally?”

That question isn’t really fair, and she knows it. But this would be so much easier if he would stop trying to help her. The things she had said before the trial... Sure, he claimed that their conversation helped him, but had it felt like this for him too? 

A beat. Then two.

“It’s my personal opinion,” he says.

Obviously . But he’s trying hard to be comforting, so Stelle decides to let it slide without comment.

“It means a lot that you care enough to try and stop me.” She traces a line along the back of his hand with her thumb–some old scar that she makes a note to ask about later. Maybe they could even trade stories. “But this is for the best.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“You think I’ll be able to stay on as an Express crew member after this?”

And that was the heart of it. Stelle didn’t mind staying in Amphoreus for a while, but the idea of never returning home? Of having to say goodbye to everyone? It was something she had never considered before. They all had their own path, she knew. Being a Trailblazer meant many things, and each crew member was destined to leave at some point. But she just wasn’t ready, couldn’t imagine another life for herself than with her family. She wonders, did the Stellaron Hunter “Stelle” feel the same way? Maybe it was best if she didn’t know. 

Phainon is looking at her with some mix of grief and regret. He doesn’t need to answer.

“Right. That’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not.”