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“We should spar,” are the first words that come out of Phainon’s mouth as he stumbles out of one of the taverns on the edge of Okhema. The artificial sun makes night time a hard thing to come by for its residents- but along the outskirts, one can catch a brief glimpse of the stars twinkling above the holy city.
Mydei, who’s equally inebriated at this point; yet unlike Phainon, is trying his best not to show it- although whether that’s working or not is another story altogether- simply shoves Phainon’s shaky hand off his shoulder, unwilling to be the other man’s stabilizer.
“It’s getting late Deliverer, so we should just head home.” The prince advises, attempting to guide his idiot friend back towards the heart of the city.
Unfortunately for him, Phainon isn’t having it.
“Comeonnnn,” he drunkenly whines, “pleaseeeeee.”
Mydei scoffs. “Begging like a dog I see- maybe you should ask one of them to fight you instead?” He teases. “There’s plenty of strays around here.”
Phainon’s eyes widen, shining with outrage. “I’d never hit an animal, especially a dog! How could you say that!” He shouts indignantly, horrified that Mydei would even suggest something of that nature.
“Calm down Phainon.” Mydei warns, noticing the strange looks the few locals who are still up and about are giving them. “I was just joking.”
“Okay-“ Phainon begins, but he stops in his tracks, a mischievous smile forming on his face as he realizes he can spin this to his advantage, “-buut, you’ll have to spar with me to apologize!”
Mydei sighs, wondering how he ever ended up with this demanding of a companion. “That’s hardly an equivalent exchange.”
“Sure it is! You wound my feelings- I wound your immortal body; equal amounts of harm done I’d say!” Phainon laughs.
The corners of the prince’s eyes twinge ever so slightly, secretly pleased by Phainon’s desire to spend time with him. “You’re not gonna let this go until I agree are you?”
“Nope!” The Deliverer grins smugly.
Mydei sighs again, although with more affection than he’d like to admit.
“Alright.”
__________________
They’ve chosen an abandoned field by the very edge of Okhema for their sparring arena, as even in their intoxicated states, both Chrysos heirs don't want to disturb anyone trying to sleep- or get interrupted while they’re fighting.
“Rules?” Is the first question Mydei asks when they finally make it to opposing sides of the field, facing one another. His vision may be slightly swimming due to the alcohol, but he can still make out the unmistakable grin on Phainon’s face, as well as the ever present strange look behind his eyes. The crown prince has always been curious about that look, but despite how close they’ve seemingly grown, he could never quite decipher it.
Perhaps that’s why he’s indulged Phainon with this ridiculous duel, although his refusal to acknowledge that would merely be another thing Mydei is hesitant to admit.
He’ll attribute the rush of adrenaline and the hammering of his heart to the anticipation for a fight anyways.
“Hmmm…” Phainon mumbles, rocking back and forth on his feet before coming up with an answer; “Well- no broken bones or any serious injuries- mostly because they’d make it annoying to get back. Plus, we don’t want Aglaea yelling at us…” he pauses for a brief moment, his grin widening, “and… how about winning is when one of us successfully pins the other to the floor for…” another pause as Phainon brings his hand to the collar wrapped tightly around his neck, tugging at it slightly, “…twenty seconds.”
Mydei raises an eyebrow, curious. “What a particularly long time you’ve chosen…”
“-If it was shorter, the victory wouldn’t count as much- right?” Phainon retorts, shifting his hand to fiddling with the side of his coat instead of his collar.
The prince’s shoulders relax as he ponders Phainon’s words, far more than he reasonably should, wondering if there was any deeper meaning to them. Sure- a brief moment on the floor shouldn’t count as defeat, as both of them would get back up rather quickly to continue the fight. However, twenty seconds is a bit excessive- even for Mydei, who’d always try and make his spars as fair as possible, regardless of who he was dueling.
Nevertheless, he takes Phainon up on his offer.
“Twenty seconds it is.”
The other man’s smile remains the same, but Mydei doesn’t miss the slight twinkle in Phainon’s eyes at his acceptance- one of the rare times the others' expression has seemed truly genuine.
Suddenly, Mydei finds himself taking this little spar a lot more seriously.
“Any more rules before we start?” He asks in anticipation, praying Phainon might give him just a little more to think about.
“Not unless you want any.” The Deliverer replies teasingly, drawing his weapon, and briefly glancing at the floor.
Mydei sighs under his breath, dissapointed. He shifts his stance, readying himself for the fight.
“Let us begin then.”
Without hesitation, Phainon immediately surges forward, sword in hand, aiming to pierce Mydei’s shoulder, which Mydei swiftly blocks with his gauntlet, shoving Phainon backwards as he himself stumbles a bit, one foot grazing the edge of a rock.
“Sloppy.” He smirks. “Is the alcohol impeding your abilities already Deliverer?”
Phainon’s gaze sharpens. “Not quite.”
Then he charges again, this time leaping into the air, forcing Mydei to aim much higher-
-and nearly causing him to trip over said rock while he adjusts to deal with Phainon.
Fortunately, the Kremnoan prince isn’t done away with by a mere pebble, but it throws off his balance just enough for Phainon to get a hit in- a brief, shallow slice to Mydei’s torso.
However, the move doesn’t go unpunished, as in the process, Mydei manages to kick Phainon in the shin as he pulls away from the swing. Unluckily for Mydei, when he tries to use this as an opportunity to wrestle the sword out of Phainon’s hands- somewhat of a dirty move, one he’d never pull normally, but Mydei is just itching to know how Amphoreus’s Delieverer would fight him right now without it- Phainon wriggles out of his grasp, punishing Mydei for his misstep by slicing the palm of one of his hands as he pulls away.
Mydei winces in pain, feeling the golden blood that flows through his body drip down his chest and arm. A bit embarrassing, considering he hadn’t managed to break any of Phainon’s skin- although that wouldn’t be easy, considering how much of it was covered- yet, the disheveled, almost shocked look on the other man’s face is enough for Mydei, who’s fighting for more than just a victory in the ring.
“What’d you do that for?” Phainon gasps, stumbling back a few feet before standing straight up again, fighting his intoxication more than the battle itself at this point, which has only lasted a brief moment so far. To think they’d once sparred for 10 days straight…
Perhaps there is more affecting Phainon right now than just the wine.
“Because I can, what are you going to do about it?” Mydei answers tauntingly, hoping that Phainon takes the bait.
Today’s his lucky day.
An uncharacteristic frown appears on Phainon’s face, and Mydei sees a flash of something he’s only witnessed briefly from his friend before.
Anger.
Therefore, when Phainon strikes at him again, with a rage that even unsettles a man like Mydei, who’s experienced countless decades of war, he can’t help but smile, having finally, truly got a hit in after all these years.
“Come at me.”
That’s all it takes. Phainon raises his sword once more, slashing at Mydei with a violent swiftness he can barely keep up with. Instead of fighting back, Mydei merely dodges the others swings, his smile growing wider as he sees how aggravated that makes Phainon.
With every step back Mydei takes, Phainon’s movements get sloppier, slower, until all it takes for Mydei to avoid them is a simple turn of his body.
Frustrated, Phainon decides to expend all his remaining energy on one last strike, and fortunately for him, it’s the one that finally works.
In the blink of an eye, Mydei feels himself lying on his back, Phainon’s heaving form looming over him, legs straddling his torso as the blade of his sword just tickles the edge of Mydei’s neck.
Twenty seconds.
The anger in Phainon’s eyes smolders on, but his face starts to fall.
Fifteen seconds.
His grip falters, hands trembling on the handle of the sword.
Ten seconds.
Tears start welling in Phainon’s eyes.
Five seconds.
Phainon drops the sword which clatters uselessly to the ground, collapsing on top of Mydei, who is still frozen in place.
Zero seconds.
Mydei pulls Phainon closer, shifting them into a sort of awkward hug, although Phainon’s arms still dangle uselessly around Mydei.
“You won.” The prince whispers quietly, afraid that even a single word out of his mouth will cause Phainon to pull away.
He’s not quite sure what set Phainon off, although he knows it has something to do with him trying to take Phainon’s sword, one which Phainon’s had ever since they met. As Mydei mulls over their past experiences, he realizes that he’s never seen Phainon without his sword by his side, even in the most casual of settings. In fact, the only time he can recall when Phainon wasn’t actively touching it was whenever they were inside the baths, and even then, Phainon kept it only a few feet away from his body, just within reach.
Mydei wonders if it’s a relic from his past, if it’s the only thing that Phainon managed to take with him after the fall of Aedes Elysiae, if he clutched it to his chest like it could possibly replace the people he’s lost, trudging to Okhema in nothing but rags and painful lingering memories. Years later he became Phainon, the great Deliverer, the hero of Okhema, but he kept his pride, carrying the name of his hometown and the sword that came with it, forever by his side.
Maybe he saw Mydei attempting to take it from him as an attempt to rip him away from his past, from the last bit of proof that he used to be someone else before becoming a Chrysos heir.
Or maybe he was just drunk.
Either way, Mydei has been given something new to think about, and a now-sleeping Phainon on his chest.
Gently, he shifts out from underneath Phainon, trying not to disturb him in the process. Once Mydei is successfully no longer pinned to the floor, he grabs the sword lying abandoned on the grass, slipping it into the sheath on Phainon’s side. Then, he carefully turns his friend over, scooping him into his arms. Despite being of a similar build to Mydei himself, the prince swears Phainon’s as light as a feather in his arms- or maybe it’s the strange feeling that a weight has been taken off his shoulders, one which makes carrying Phainon significantly easier.
Regardless, step by step, he continues back towards the city, comforted by the rare darkness, and the grounding feeling of Phainon’s head resting against his bare chest. The cut across it had long since scarred over by now, as well as the wound on his hand, but part of him still fusses over getting some of his blood on Phainon’s clothing. Sure, had it happened during the fight, the other wouldn’t have minded, but now Mydei feels as if anything touching Phainon would ruin the rare moment of true peace he gets to experience.
However, before Mydei can even readjust him, Phainon’s bleary eyes blink open, still tinged red from crying just a few moments earlier.
“Mydei?” He croaks out, confused.
“-You passed out.” The prince quickly clarifies, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over him as he realizes what he needs to offer next. “I can put you down now if you want-“
“-no.” Phainon retorts, voice slurring. “Don’t put me down.”
Mydei pauses in his tracks, still holding Phainon in his arms. He debates if he should ask why, lest Phainon change his mind.
“Okay.” Mydei says nervously, continuing onwards, albeit a bit more awkwardly than before, and not just because they were getting closer to Okhema where other people could spot them.
He wonders if Phainon feels his heart hammering inside his chest, or his shaky hands gripped around Phainon’s back and the inside of his knees. He wonders if Phainon is worried that he’ll drop him, or that he’s too much of a burden to carry.
Worst of all, Mydei wonders if he’ll ever get to do this again. Well, wonders isn’t the right word, he muses to himself, as it’s more of an all consuming want than anything. What a torrid legacy Mydei has inherited, constantly feeling as if all eyes were on him at once, just waiting for him to slip up, to be the type of man they all envisioned him to be, to fail his people, to become the mad king. It’s made life uncomfortablly stifling, and despite being the crown prince, Mydei’s long since forsaken all unnecessary luxuries, pretenses or desires.
Nevertheless, for the first time in his very long life, Mydei wants. Not some material thing, or meaningless victory, but to hold onto the trust that Phainon is offering, and to be able to embrace it fully. Although he’s carrying him currently, it’s as if the other man is an ocean away, with the thoughts behind his eyes even more of an enigma than his current behavior.
Yet for twenty seconds, twenty brief seconds, Mydei got just a momentary, shining glimpse of who Phainon really is, and he’s starving for more.
Therefore, common sense be damned, Mydei tugs Phainon closer, hugging him tighter.
“Mydei?” He whispers again.
This time, Mydei is the one to remain quiet, letting the silence surrounding them speak for him instead.
“Are you mad at me Mydei?” Phainon says quietly, anxious words almost impossible to make out as his voice slurs into a jumbled, timid mess.
“Not even slightly.” He answers reassuringly, brushing the hair out of Phainon’s half lidded eyes.
“Good.” He exhales, relieved. “I don’t know what I’d do if you were.”
Mydei smiles knowingly.
“I could say the same about you, Phainon.”