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It was a day like any other — bright, sunny, and a bit boring. If not for the unrelenting threat of being swallowed by the black tide, life in the eternal holy city of Okhema would have been quite mundane.
Aglaea sat in the Hero’s Bath, the threads of fate weaving through her fingers, her green eyes scanning the carefully curated information. No new gossip concerning two particular Chrysos Heirs, and her face fell in disappointment, her heart shuddering. Once again, her traps had failed, and all her attempts had gone to waste. How truly unfortunate. She sighed, letting the threads fall apart.
‘Oh, sweet little nymphs, what an unremarkable day,’ she murmured to the butterflies surrounding her. Who knew how much time they still had left together? Could she really call herself the goddess of love if love like that was left unattended? If only there was a way forward for those two — a way to break them and to mold them into something more to her liking.
‘What are you plotting, wretched woman?’ a voice — or a disturbance in the force as she liked to refer to it — reached her ears, and she turned, smiling at her esteemed guest.
‘Anaxa.’
‘Anaxagoras.’
‘Of course, Anaxa. How can I be of help today?’
The scholar threw a devastating look her way — one that a lesser being would have crumbled under — but for Aglaea it was but a flutter of a butterfly; she was serene and all-knowing.
‘What is going on with Mydei and Phainon? Their silent yearning is starting to grind on my nerves.’
Oh, but even butterflies fluttering could be irritating at times, and Aglaea’s serene expression darkened.
‘Anaxa, please, the private affairs of Chrysos Heirs are not within my authority. I am no such a woman.’
‘Anaxagoras.’
‘Of course, Anaxa.’
‘And I damn well know exactly what kind of woman you are.’ The scholar drew closer, watching the demigod sharply. ‘A wicked, soul-destroying, searing, plotting, ever knowing—‘
‘Are you insulting or trying to compliment me?’ she interrupted, and even the scholar seemed unsure.
‘What I wanted to say,’ he cleared his throat, ignoring the other’s amusement, ‘is that we may have to do something about those two. I’ve heard all your current plans have fallen through.’
Aglaea drew in a deep breath, another one, and then she had to exhale.
Cerces may have been Mnestia’s beloved, but the devilish scholar came as a poor replacement for her.
She should ignore him, go on with her day, maybe plant a rumor or two. Yet she saw this conversation for what it was — a peace offering, a chance to bury the hatchet — and that was enough, would have to be enough, even if only for a single day.
‘Fine.’ She agreed as she extended her hand, which Anaxa promptly slapped away. ‘I will listen to your advice this one time.’
Oh, great, Mnestia. What lengths she was willing to go to in support of a love like no other.
…
‘Hmm, curious,’ Phainon says as he looks at the one bed in front of them. He is pretty sure that this must have been a misunderstanding. ‘Has the Chrysos Heirs’ budget really dwindled so much?’
Mydei, besides him, groans in disapproval, pretty sure he knows exactly what this is.
When Aglaea approached him, a garmetmaker at her side like a dog, he felt that something terrible was coming his way. There could never be a normal day when that woman wasn’t involved, trying her best to pair him up with Phainon.
‘Lady Aglaea, I must say, whatever impression the two of us have left on you, I can swear that there are no other feelings than just rivalry and friendship between us.’
‘Is that so,’ the dress master said as she waved her elegantly decorated wrist. Sure, she was a beautiful woman, but she lacked the sturdiness and power that Phainon—
Screw it
Mydei was not thinking that.
‘But you misunderstand me, dear Prince of Castrum Kremnos; I’ve come here to inform you of an urgent matter. A mission that may need your attention.’
‘And let me guess,’ Mydei rolls his eyes, he already knows where this is going, ‘a certain blue-eyed hero is to be involved.’
‘There is strength in numbers after all,’ Aglaea says as she glides away.
There is absolutely no strength in numbers, Mydei thinks as he looks at the bed that stands, intimidating, in the middle of their one room.
‘I guess we will have to share,’ Phainon says because he doesn't have a brain, and Mydei would sooner disembowel himself than sleep in the same bed as Phainon.
‘I will sleep on the floor.’
‘Oh, but why would you do that? There is plenty of space in the bed!’
Blue eyes look at him with the utmost innocence, and at times, Mydei suspects that Phainon is just faking it, but at other times, he is pretty sure there is nothing to fake.
‘I am not a small man.’
‘I know, Mydei, I have seen you at the Hero’s baths.‘
Mydei closes his eyes, prays.
‘I meant my stature, Phainon, and you’re not small either. So how do you expect the two of us to sleep in this bed meant for one?’
Phainon looks at the bed, then at Mydei, and then once again his eyes fall on the bed.
‘You can sleep in my arms, maybe? Or I can sleep on top of you?’
Mydei jams a fist right into Phainon’s sternum. There is a lesson to be learned here, after all.
‘No.’
‘Fine, do whatever you want,’ Phainon gasps, trying to recover, ‘but in that case, I’m not taking the bed either; I do not want to be the only one feeling comfort.’
So they both end up sleeping on the floor.
It’s a hard, dirty, slightly sticky floor. Mydei does not want to know why it’s sticky.
He tries his best to close his eyes and let his brain fall into nothingness. Sleep better claims him fast because if it doesn’t—
‘You know,’ Phainon says, and Mydei exhales in exhaustion.
‘I think that, at times, the two of us are a bit too stubborn.’
Mydei has already decided not to entertain the other. No matter how much Phainon speaks he will not reply to one single thing.
‘Would it really be that bad if we shared a bed? We have shared baths together, I have seen you naked— what’s so bad about cuddling up for the night?’
‘Deliverer, you have some wild fantasies,’ Mydei’s resolve immediately breaks. He can admit his own weaknesses and ignoring Phainon is right at the top and center.
Phainon huffs a breath. ‘Is sleeping in one bed together seen as something wild in Castrum Kremnos? Your people must have all been saints.’
Mydeimos opens his eyes, thoroughly peeved, and looks over to where the other is. Bright blue eyes are already waiting for him.
‘My people are nothing like saints. Is there truly nothing behind those eyes of yours? Did Cerces not bless you with any reason?’
Phainon laughs, utterly unbothered, oh the nerve, and Mydei is this close to just grabbing him and pressing his—
No no no
There will be no pressing anywhere.
‘Then I’m glad that the wise Mydei is here with me! He can read and even write! How amazing.’
Mydei isn’t sure if his infatuation with the other is some weird self-deprecation that he has not yet fully discovered, or maybe he’s just going insane. Why would he even like Phainon? There is nothing remotely likable about the other!
‘Ahh, but isn’t this nice? Just you and me and an unused bed. It’s funny, even you can admit it,’ Phainon says as he smiles at him.
Well, okay, admittedly, there may be some things that are likeable about Phainon, like his brilliant blue eyes or that innocent smile. His ceaseless optimism isn’t bad either, but Mydei suspects it’s just a mask that he hides his true feelings under.
‘Just sleep.’
‘I wish I could.’
‘Is something on your mind, Deliverer?’
‘Yes, that the floor is very hard.’
Mydei groans and rolls on the side. He is not going to deign that with an answer.
…
‘Oh, would you look at that! Another coincidence!’ Phainon exclaims on the evening of the second day of this blasted mission.
Mydei has already cursed Aglaea to the underworld and back, hoping that Thanathos will wake up from its slumber and reap her soul.
‘Another room with only one bed! How come?’ Phainon sounds genuinely puzzled.
Mydei knew that when Aglaea said that she had already arranged all their travel expenses, something terrible was about to happen.
They had been fighting titankin all day long and then dragged themselves back to this small dingy inn through mud and rain. Mydei is miserable and wet all over, and his only consolation is that Phainon isn’t faring much better.
His white clothes are soaked, and his hair reminds Mydei of a wet rat that once stole a cracker from his hands. He will never admit that he chased the rat or that he lost to the intelligent critter.
‘Do you really think this is a coincidence?’
‘But what else could it be?’
Mydei almost lets out a whimper but stops himself at the very last moment; he does not need the other commenting on that.
He wishes for a day when Phainon finally realizes that all their accidental run-ins, dinners together, and often unreasonable missions have been meticulously planned by a truly evil person. He’s not even sure why he keeps entertaining this madness; it would be much simpler just to shatter the other’s illusions of Aglaea’s good will.
‘Just take the bed,’ Mydei sighs, the blue eyes widening as he says those words.
‘Mydei, I could never! You look like you’re barely dragging your feet! And you must be careful not to catch a cold; look, your clothes are soaking wet!’
‘A cold? Really?’ Mydei’s quite skeptical. He’s never had a cold in his entire life. Being forged anew in the sea of souls does some interesting things to you.
‘If someone should be worried about a cold, it’s you, Deliverer,’ Mydei says.
Phainon sneezes and throws Mydei a smile, just a simple gesture that shatters the other’s very soul.
No, he has to protect this innocence, even if it’s the last thing that he does.
‘Take off your clothes.’
‘That’s very direct.’
‘What are you even talking about?’
Mydei starts removing his armor, shaking the water out of his gauntlets. Phainon seems to receive the message then and hurriedly takes off his coat, the white fabric rippling as it flows to the floor.
His shirt follows, and then the gloves—
What kind of an undressing order is that? And Mydei realizes that he is staring.
‘Got something on your mind?’ Phainon asks, clearly referencing Mydei’s question from last night, and Mydei groans and turns away, busying himself with his clothes.
Soon, they are almost entirely undressed sans the undergarments that need to stay on. And the choker, for some weird reason. Mydei’s not sure why the choker always stays on.
‘Do you sleep in that?’
‘Huh?’ Phainon asks. Mydei gestures at his neck.
‘Oh,’ Phainon mutters as he fumbles with the leather strip, ‘I just like the feeling of something around my neck.’
Mydei chokes and has the twentieth mini-crisis of the day. He thinks of all the things he’s already achieved and those still awaiting him. Will he, in all of his numerous adventures, ever again hear something as depraved as that?
‘I mean, it makes me feel—‘
‘Don’t elaborate,’ Mydei heaves out. He is pretty content with not having known. He will pretend he never heard it.
‘Well, alright, but Mydei, you’re acting unusual,’ Phainon says as he shakes the water out of his hair. Mydei doesn’t give a damn what the other thinks. He needs to think about himself first. He can absolutely not sport a boner while sitting half-naked in the same room as Phainon.
Which is quite the feat to do because Phainon — oh, the unnerving, beautiful bastard — stretches all of his muscles in front of Mydei like a cat.
‘Oh, I’m so tired, my back is so sore; I wish I were back in Okhema to take a calming bath.’
Mydei can think of other ways to help him relax or he could maybe just drown him in water. But he won’t. Because he’s not a pervert, and he has self-control.
‘Are we once again sleeping on the floor?’ Phainon asks, his expression that of a kicked wet dog, and Mydei inhales sharply, trying his best to resist.
‘I am sleeping on the floor. As for you, do whatever you want.’
‘Fine,’ Phainon says and stalks over to the bed, throwing all the covers down on the floor. ‘Now we can share at least some type of comfort. I’d not want you to catch a cold.’
Mydei would remind Phainon that he can’t catch any colds but finds that effort completely wasted. Phainon is going to do whatever he wants, Mydei has absolutely no control over this man.
*
The night is cold, the floor is hard and Mydei can’t sleep because Phainon’s teeth are clattering beside him.
He’s not going to say anything, let the stubborn idiot freeze and die. See if Mydei cares, it’s not like he is head over heels in —
Nope
Mydei sits up, looking at the other with disdain, then stands and grabs him by the waist. Phainon yelps, a small undignified sound, and Mydei picks him up and slams him into the bed.
‘And stay there!’
‘I’m not a child, Mydei!’
‘I told you to stay.’
‘But I am cold!’
Only then Mydei realizes that Phainon is telling the truth, his lips having turned blue and his whole body shivering. He looks at the few measly covers that they have— no, they will do absolutely nothing for the other.
The only possible way, and it’s not like Mydei is willing, but it’s the only possible way and Aglaea would be really angry is they lost a Chrysos Heir.
‘Not a word about this,’ Mydei says, finally having made up his mind, and climbs into the bed together with Phainon, encircling his body with his own.
Phainon is a slab made out of ice and Mydei is burning hotter than the sun. He soon melts the other’s freezing state and Phainon’s hands — how did they make it to his shoulders? — soon turn pleasantly warm. They slide lower, drawing idle circles on his chest, and— why is Phainon drawing circles on his chest?
‘You know Mydei, this is nice,’ Phainon says as he looks at him. Those blue eyes are like a lifeline to Mydei’s insanity. He’d rather not be reminded just how mad he is every time he looks at the other.
‘Of course, I couldn't imagine anything better than holding someone with the warmth of a glacial.’
‘I never said that it is nice for you,’ Phainon laughs, a small private laugh, and Mydei finds himself completely enamored.
He wants. No, he actually craves. If only he could carve a place for himself inside of Phainon’s heart. He wants to kiss him, sweetly, softly, madly, make those damned butterflies in his stomach go away. He wants to press him closer, be inside of him deeper than anyone has ever been. He wants—
‘Uhh— what are you thinking about, Mydei? You’re heating up,’ Phainon asks as he looks at him.
This— this seems like the perfect moment, and it would be so easy as well. He could tip the other’s chin up, capture those lips with his own…
‘Nothing.’
‘Oh alright then, I’ll try sleeping then,’ Phainon says and closes his eyes. As the soft snores start filling the tiny room, a deep sense of regret fills Mydei’s chest.
…
‘I’m starting to think this may not be a coincidence after all,’ Phainon mutters, drawing his brows together, as he eyes the single bed with great suspicion.
Mydei drops his head and lets the weight of defeat wash over him. Why should he not have a moment of respite? If he throws himself down a steep cliff he will enjoy at least a couple of moments of falling. Dying isn’t that terrible either.
‘Phainon, really—‘
‘You said my name!’
‘Idiot, listen.’
That, at least, shuts the other up and Mydei is too tired to care about hurt feelings. He couldn’t sleep for a single second last night and today they have been dealing with even more titankin. Somewhere around the second hundred he lost the count and gave up. Phainon could count them on his own; it’s not like he hasn’t let Phainon win before.
‘This is something Lady Aglaea has arranged.’
‘Yes, obviously, I know that; I’m just surprised that she didn’t get us two rooms. Or, at least, a room with two beds!’
Mydei wonders if it’s actually possible for a living person to be this oblivious. But here he is, the personification of ignorance, and Mydei is truly losing this fight.
‘Maybe— she has made a mistake?’
‘No! No, she didn’t make a mistake!’ Mydei yells, truly and completely out of his mind. It’s bad enough to be by this idiot’s side day and night, but to hold him in his arms, face pressed in that fluffy white hair that smells like home and hope and happiness and DO NOTHING?
It’s too much. Even for a man like Mydei, it’s too much.
‘She wants us to fuck!’
Phainon’s eyes go wide. Mydei feels like he’s just kicked a puppy. No, scrap that, not just kicked it, he gathered a whole litter into a sack and hurled it right into a river.
‘Oh.’
He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn’t have. Why did he have to lose control? Mydei is a man of many talents, and sadly, patience is not the most honed one. Yet he still should have been better at controlling his temper. He breathes out, then in, calms his nerves. He’s a wall, a big, wonderful, impenetrable wall.
‘And what about you? Do you also want us to fuck?’
All Mydei’s walls crumble to dust. He looks into those bright blue eyes, eyes that hold the whole world inside of them, eyes that haunt him during the nights and entrance him when he glimpses at them during the days, and he cannot find it in himself to lie. He needs to tell the other the truth.
‘No.’
‘Oh.’
Phainon’s face falls. A quiet sadness settles in his expression. It’s not what Mydei expected out of this but now he’s truly questioning some things.
‘Because I don't want us to… fuck.’
Well, that really explained fuck all.
‘I’d like to—‘
Hmm, but to say something like that is impossible.
‘Embrace—‘
Embrace is a very neutral word. Mydei thinks he quite likes it.
‘You—‘
Because obviously, who else?
‘Nevertheless.’
‘You’d like to embrace me nevertheless? What kind of a sentence even is that, Mydei?’
A very good one, you ungrateful idiot, Mydei thinks as he looks away. He is not blushing, kremnoians do not blush, there isn’t even a word for that in their language.
Something seems to click in Phainon’s mind then, the sad blue eyes regaining their brightness. He smiles, extending his hand to Mydei, and then grabs the other’s gauntlet when there’s no response.
‘I did not know you’re such a romantic at heart,’ Phainon says as he pulls Mydei closer, ‘but if you insist, let’s get together properly,’ he grins and presses a chaste kiss to Mydei’s cheek.
…
It's another peaceful day in the holy city. The wind drifts slowly through the streets, the bustle of the crowd grows distant in the Hero’s Baths. Aglaea lets the golden treads fall through her fingers, her lips curling in a serene smile.
‘And you said it’s not going to work,’ beside her Anaxa disturbs her peaceful enjoyment.
One day, when the flame chase journey will not be of any importance, she will slit that annoying scholar’s throat, but for now she must coexist with him peacefully and try not to send a garmentmaker after him.
But accidents do happen.
‘I’ll admit my defeat; your mind is truly that of a genius,’ she says as the threads fall and dissolve in the water. ‘But let me ask you this: how were you so confident it would work?’
‘One bed, two people — such a common trope. It’s considered a classic for a reason.’
Aglaea looks at Anaxa in silence, not quite sure what the man is talking about. Sometimes, she tries to understand him. Most of the time, she doesn’t bother.
‘Alright then,’ she says at last, rising from the water in all her glory. Her golden robes fall around her, giving her an almost eternal appearance.
'Want to come visit me then?’ she asks, her expression turning mischievous, ‘I also only have one bed.’
After all, she isn’t carrying the core flame of Mnestia for no reason. And enemies to lovers is such a common trope.
end
Extra:
‘If it’s nine inches or more, I’m not joining that mission tomorrow.’ Phainon overhears Castorice talking to Hyacine as he walks by.
‘Girls,’ usually he’d just let it pass, but he finally feels like he has something to add, ‘I understand you. Mydei is like seven inches, but he’s so thick that I always take the day off tomorrow.’
Hyacine looks at Castorice who looks back at Phainon, her life forever changed.
‘We were talking about snow, Phainon.’