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Chapter Text

To Anaxa, it felt as if his own home had turned into an open windmill. Not to say the utter confusion that clouded his mind the day he came home to, yet another, stray curled up against his spouse. Aglaea had always been open-hearted, wearing herself on everyone’s sleeves. Needless to say, Anaxa had a hard time with her unspoken wants and attitudes: his, their, home had been a peaceful abode for long.

She came from a wealthy lineage, born and cocooned in the purest of golds. Fed butter and cream, maple syrup and candied apples and still, she was a woman of ideals and values. Her principles meant more to her than her humanity did – that much was enough to make Anaxa feel this weird possessiveness over her sanity. Their romance was born of reasonable accords and acceptances. He never asked of her as she didn’t ask of him and Mnestia help all – they truly did make a good pair despite the oppositional minds of theirs. It became solace and peace to their own aches. Something grounding.

Anaxa had been a reclusive figure, one for the books and stillness of silence – almost as if fleeing from the gaze and perception of others. He fell for her, found himself tangled in her. Body, soul, heart and everything great – he was hers as she was his. It was a marriage of convenience.

“ We do not care for one another. Benefits and all. “

And honestly, sometimes, he found himself laughing in his own mind at the replica. Mindless and especially not intelligent chatter from a man of his composure and integrity but still. Convenience comes with acceptation, opening up to one another and even if he tried to untangle himself – she’d woven a cocoon so imperceptibly warm around him that it felt ironic to blame her for his antics. Futile was it to debate her with his unfair logic and dismissal. An insect trapped stays trapped whether it grows into the skin of a man. They’d each learn of their quirks and sassy remarks, insults that have been spoken way before they even touched each other’s skin. She opened her home – and heart – to him. Came long after the first stray. Then another. Misery brought down on him.

The convenient benefits of a marriage came also with a shared bed and hushed kisses, hand wrapped around the other’s pinky finger, promises of cleaning up, lectures on the healthiness of words of affection and of accepting to be held, the brushing of skins when whispering of mockery at social events. They fell in love, they had loved each other for years by then. If Aglaea was blinded by her insatiable need for the warmth of another – Anaxa had been hers to hold, caress and lay with. She had an habit of letting not even a bug get closed to her skin, always keeping people at an arm’s length. Anaxa was the exception of all. And two particular souls.

Again, their routine were calm then, nothing special other than a made up, chosen, family dining together. Aglaea sat proud at the leading seat, her spouse across from her. Digging into his quiche with great interest for once – Gods, she knew exactly how to get at him, didn’t she? Phainon seemed shy, uncharacteristically so. Cifera, vile and by then not taller than a half wall’s height, kept eyeing him. She’d been a mischievous child, always in trouble.

They posed as a somewhat dysfunctional family, four heads with seemingly nothing holding their hearts in the same thought. None could interrupt and blame Aglaea’s intentions when she held her children’s hands. Anaxa had never skipped a single school event of theirs, made sure they ate every single speck of spice on their plate and Hell – they made a good team even as they saw things the same for their futures. Anaxa had the habit of calling them strays as would lost pets – honestly, could’ve been accurate if it wasn’t for the frown on his son’s face. Children it would be. He agreed with Aglaea – they were theirs to protect and take care of. In sickness and in health, a C- on an exam or not. He kept reminding himself that they’d be out his life and home in the next few years, surely. He grew accustomed to it and if you’d pay him a signed copy of Plato to relinquish his guardianship rights, he’d screech and crawl away. Or not. But that’s what Phainon would tell Cipher when she’d have doubts.

When she had first seen Anaxa, she commented on his appearance. And nothing in the universe could’ve possibly stifled the laughter of Aglaea. Hell, if a child barely able of proper speech could elicit such sweet laughter from his spouse - it was a signed contract already. The girl acted mature, way too so and something about it bothered him. Fascinated him, even. Aglaea kept Cipher’s attitudes and witty manners for their meeting at her parents’ shop - they’d never mention it again, so they agreed. Cifera came a storm in their lives. Phainon lived by himself and strayed, wandered, around the markets – Tribios kept a close eye on him. And they both took pity of such a sweet soul, resembling of the purest whites of snow. The exhaustion of senses kept Aglaea from chasing her own desires to become a mother of her own. Two adoptives it is.

The dawn of a new sun, the chosen one and the deliverer of all agony came a rumour in the city but the blasphemer paid it no mind. A sun tattoo on one’s neck, the destruction of the sun by its own rays was utterly ridiculous and Anaxa would be no partaker. It couldn’t be his son, not when he’s so young and hadn’t known much of life’s sweetness. Motivation he could’ve held for himself but the responsibility of children made his selfish narrative more of an excuse than anything. He cared for the boy as for the girl, like they were his own flesh and blood. Seeing a love he so loathed for its purpose of grounding one to their humanity - he’d never admit it. He hadn’t known the love of a family himself – Hell, he sold his soul and gave up his eye for the sweet surrender of being held in a loved one’s arms. Aglaea came a rescue, a golden ray in the void of his skull – the decayed thing of a heart he’d thought long forgotten. They were good together, they were good to one another and if these children wouldn’t know their flesh’s approval then they’d give them theirs.

It had been a long day – Cipher helped Aglaea with the shop as Anaxa taught Phainon the basics of advanced quantum physics for half the day. But as he’s been doing for the past months – he left for the gardens until dinner call. Cipher knew, she knows everything. Then told on him to Aglaea. And Aglaea told Anaxa a few nights ago, then his head in her lap as she unbraided his hair.

“ Cifera saw our boy with another boy this afternoon. “

He couldn’t have cared less if it had been an inanimate tree or statue but the very thought of his son to be hurt by a stranger – he recoiled.

So tonight, he kept his eyes on his fork, picking around the lamb Aglaea had prepared earlier. Didn’t go unnoticed then, Cifera opening her mouth to speak – drowned by Phainon’s shaky breath. They spoke at once, their voices swirling into one string of incoherent noises.

“ I have a boyfriend. “
“ Looking gloomy there, Naxy. “

Something like that. Not that he’d ever be certain, judging from the stale taste of spit on his tongue. Aglaea almost let out a chuckle, her voice as soft and calming as it ever was.

“ One at a time, angels. “

And so Cifera shook her head, now that her sneaking around discoveries were out in the open. Phainon took the hint when silence came, swallowing audibly.

“ I met a guy. And I like him. I really like him. “

Anaxa scoffed, taking a bite of the lamb.

“ So? “, there he went again with the dismissal. Gods, this man still struggled with a parental tone, didn’t he?

So Aglaea took the lead, as she always did.

“ Please, tell us of him, Phainon. I’m certain we want to hear more, don’t we, lover? “

Cornering the performer into his own changing room, makeup hurriedly smeared on? What kind of cruelty was that? In front of his orange zested marinated lamb, not to say. Cipher knew better than to stay silent, simply chuckling at the spotlight now on Anaxa.

“ Yes, what she said. “

A shook of a head, a faint smirk hanging from the corner of her mouth at the immaturity of his stupor, simply pressing Phainon to speak.

“ We met… at the market. He, uh… Well, he is a tad younger than I am. “

Cifera chimes in then, that wicked mockery honeyed in the softest of her tone.

“ It’s the tall, tattooed and muscular guy, huh? “

“ Tattooed? “

A delinquent then. Couldn’t be trusted around the fragile heart of glass of his poor stray. No.

As clockwork, something tugs on his robes and without even looking, he rolls his eyes at his spouse. How dare she use those forsaken threads and manipulative tactics on him, now of all times? Surely, he won’t stand to be humiliated so he stays quiet. Instead, he forces a smile. It comes disgusting and honestly pathetic. Enough that Phainon lowers his head in shame. Aglaea speaks once more, her thumb rubbing gently on Phainon’s hand.

“ Does he have a name, dear? “

“ Mydeimos. “

“ Ah. The heir of Castrum Kremnos, isn’t he? “

“ The what of what?”, Cipher added. That little canine stuck over her bottom lip, juice in hand.

“ Well… he is the crown prince of Kremnos, yes. “

Cipher couldn’t help herself and angels above, even Aglaea didn’t find it in her to interrupt.

“ And you think you are a princess? You’re no royal, Khaslana. “

“ Speak you! He likes me, golden blood or not! “

“ Does he know that? “

A scoff, the thud of a chair scraping against the marble floors. And then Anaxa speaks, voice stern.

“ Cifera, enough of your voice. Phainon, let us meet this… Mydeimos. If he’ll have us this weekend, I’m sure your mother would love to get her recipes together for the occasion. “

A beat. And the boy sits down again. They finish eating and as the practiced routine of a family pieced together with solid thread – Phainon cleans up the table, Anaxa washes the dishes as Aglaea rests. Cipher stays in her lap, eyes trained on the thread dancing in her fingers. Anaxa had torn one of his most precious robes and Hell, she was no cruel woman to let her man wander around with her name in mouth, her taste on his skin and a worn-out piece of fabric.

By sunset, Cifera and Phainon go up to their rooms for the night, leaving them to the quiet of their cocoon.

A kiss lingering on one’s temple, shaky and dry hands threading through golden, silky hair. He guides her to rest against him, back pressed to his chest only to hold her for a second or two. Or for as long as he stays hers.

“ Does it render you nervous, dear? “

He hums against her shoulder, lips warmed by the flesh of her.

“ Tattoos. He has tattoos. “

“ An aesthetic choice amongst others, lover. And what do we know? It could be some birthmark of sorts. “

“ Don’t make me laugh this late, Aglaea. My spine can’t take it. “

“ Our boy knows of his own heart. It could be a grounding and learning experience. You will have to let him go to become a man soon. “

“ Blasphemy. “

Chapter Text

And as agreed the previous week, came the nervousness of setting the house as decor. Aglaea kept busy with an old family recipe, Anaxa changing his blouse at least seven times and Cifera playing outside, tormenting God knows what. Phainon stays sitting on the stairs, a slight frown creasing his brow. None could see him then but for Aglaea. Seeing and sensing had been a research of Anaxa when they had met, an accommodation rather than convenience. There goes that lie again. She speaks from the open area of their kitchen, gentle praise greeted with a fluttering heart.

“ Isn’t that the attire I pinned for an important event, angel? A rich blue suits you well. “

“ Oh, I will change if it doesn’t please you. “

A snicker, a disapproving one. Insolent child, he is.

“ None the need, sweetness. This is an important moment for you as for us. You will do good. “

And he goes to respond, maybe a compliment and gratitude on the tip of his tongue – Cipher barges right into the house. She laughs and laughs, panting as would a cat chasing a bird for hundreds of yards. Anaxa came down with a neatly steamed suit, hair pinned into a chic updo. Cipher ceases her antics at the sight of the man, brows furrowed in disgust.

“ She let you wear… that? “

“ Cifera, watch that tongue of yours, insolent child. “, chimes in Aglaea.

The man frowns, following suit of his two strays. Gods, they might not have shared genes but they surely shared the same facial expression. A knock on the door silences them all, Phainon freezing with utter nervousness. A beat. And there goes the practice they’d put into seeming like a knitted family. Cipher rushes to Aglaea, awaiting, Anaxa clearing his throat to open the door to their home. Phainon stands behind him, lips pressed into a smile that was, not to say, scary. The so-called prince of Kremnos stood pride and confident on the doorstep of their house, nodding his head politely at the man Phainon dared to call his father. Silly.

“ Sir. “

Pfft. Sir.

“ Mydeimos. “

A beat. A stare. It could even be considered awkward if not for Mydeimos’ gift being left to Anaxa’ hands. A bottle of wine. Sure, let’s imply the guardians of his… the boy he ‘likes’ are drinkers. Again, as if losing her sight came with the godhood of reading minds, a tug of thread at the back of his head. Damn all.

“ Mydeimos, it is a pleasure. Come inside, I beg of you. “

He bows at the sight of the mother, a shy smile on his face. He presses a hand to Phainon’s shoulder in greeting before stepping inside, slipping past Anaxa. Phainon’s eyes light up with the sparkle of life, light and everything sweet as if forgetting of his own insouciant insecurities a few seconds earlier. Cipher grinned in triumph – to be right and right again. Will she ever be wrong and fail the promise of trickery?

“ Come, my boy. This is Cifera, Phainon’s sister as such. Anaxa at the door-

Then comes that aggravating voice, cutting through Aglaea’s round of introduction with such ferocity, you’d think he was bargaining for his life in front of the council.

“ Anaxagoras. It will be Anaxagoras to you. “

…Anaxagoras. I would be Aglaea, Phainon’s guardian. “

The boy couldn’t hide the amusement, the dynamic of their bond as sweet as salt. He simply nodded to them both again, a charming tone in his voice.

“ I have heard much of your texts, Dr. Anaxagoras. And even more of your exploits and talents, Aglaea. Thank you for having me. “

Not planned out, not written on the script play they’d been practicing the day before. What do they do now that Mydeimos is not rude and cruel as the stories say? Aglaea barely seemed shaken and simply invited him to sit at the table. So did everyone. All heads lined around the high table carved out of the most stern of mahogany. Didn’t go unnoticed by Mydeimos.

“ Mahogany, isn’t it? Imported from derived forested lands. “

Ah, he’s aiming for their intelligence now. Trying to impress whoever.

“ It’s oak. “, said Anaxa.

“ Ah. Could’ve fooled me. I swear it’s mahogany. “

“ Oak. “

“ News to me, dear. It is mahogany, yes. A gift from family. “, Aglaea cuts in. She soon plates the food for her kins – generous portions of glazed duck with a cranberry salad. Cipher could almost feel bile piling up her throat but there her saviour came with a plate of seasoned carrots and cold orzo. Stubborn yet sweet girl, that one.

They ate in comfortable silence – for most. Not Anaxa, that much was obvious. His finger hooked into the collar of his shirt, tugging on it as if begging something to strike him down. Cipher bit back a remark, opting for an ice breaker of sorts.

“ So, what does a crown prince do? “

Mydeimos smiles warmly at her and there came that sparkling charm in his eyes, her own widening as if entranced.

“ It is nothing like painted in tales, I hope I won’t disappoint you. “

“ Go on. “, says Anaxa. Ah, he’s awake and alive so it seems.

Phainon sigh and speaks, soon to be cut off by Mydeimos.

“ Must you all question him like-

“ They are curious, Deliverer. As would anyone be opening their home to a stranger. I find myself reading, concluding diplomatic terms and papers. Soon, I will travel to smaller villages. “

And Anaxa is certain then the boy spoke with a coherent response to Cifera’s question but what in tarnation was that nickname for Phainon? Deliverer, please. Will he deliver Okhema of its cold baths? Surely not.

He eyed Aglaea with an undecipherable expression, almost as if seeking her reassurance through the turmoil in his head. She spoke then, nodding her head with contempt. She didn’t care for Anaxa’s loss of sanity right then. No one did… Deliverer when he could barely deliver the table of empty plates after dinner. Make him laugh harder, please.

“ The son of Gorgo as she was ever charismatic. I hope our boy didn’t give you much trouble and distraction from your duties. “

Phainon almost found himself blushing, embarrassed but didn’t respond, mouth full. Mydeimos giggles warmly before finishing his plate in record time.

“ He has been good to me… so far. He has a good soul and a head on his shoulders, although he is too optimistic and idealistic for his own good, I’d say. “

Gods help him, he couldn’t keep the words in. Sometimes actors need to improvise, no?

“ He gets that from his mother. “

“ He gets the stubbornness from Anaxa. “, says Cipher.

“ Anaxagoras. “

“ You feed me, shelter me, care for me as your own and still make me call y-

Enough.

Aglaea snaps her fingers and then came the silence of a well rehearsed scene – she demands the attention of all. Mydeimos raises a brow at the sudden quietness, almost uncomfortable to swallow his own spit. But there they were, all four of them, finishing their meals in a hurry. She keeps smiling, as if prompting Mydeimos to continue introducing himself.

The main course was soon finished. Dessert pleased Cifera as it did everyone’s sweet tooth – a whipped chocolate mousse with cherry jam. Homemade, of course. Mydeimos couldn’t help his need for flattery, praising Aglaea’s cooking with barely concealed joy. He could get used to the rhythm of a domestic play – the dramatic news of his boyfriend’s home. He could even feel welcomed to the warmth and compassion of a family – one he hadn’t known and won’t ever.

Anaxa keeps to himself for the rest of the scene, letting his lover, daughter and son bathe in the spotlight. If anything, he observed with careful patience. The way Phainon’s smile would widen at the slightest touch of his hand on his, the loving and disgusting smile on his face like Mydeimos was the star that shined the brightest in the North Pole.

The girl nested in his lap as big as a sack of potatoes – or maybe four – no less than a few years back and now the boy he washed the hair of with careful strokes held another in his heart? Blasphemy. The irony of all. It hurt in a different way, a context of grief he didn’t understand. He didn’t admit it to anyone – even less himself that he deserved this, the unconditional love of three souls without a demand of something material in return. It stung.

Mydeimos left before sunset, Phainon walking him back to the city gates with intertwined fingers. Cifera played with the obnoxious and mischievous demonic dog of hers in the backyard as Aglaea massaged Anaxa’s shoulders. Her thumbs pressed into the base of the skull, lips soothing against his cheek.

“ It pains you to see them grow up. “

“ I said once, twice, thrice to stop making me laugh so late, Aglaea. “

“ I will allow you to feel for these children, outspokenly. Say it, lover. “

“ No. “

“ Anaxagoras. “, she insisted.

“ Anaxa.”, he warned. The ten letters would be spoken only with a tone of defiance and anger, not in this context of loving acceptance. This woman was far too cruel of a fate for him.

“ Speak reasonably, if so you will. Entertain me. “

“ Fine. Fine. I feel hurt. “

“ He is growing tall, isn’t he? Soon, he will tower over you, then me. Maybe we’ll need a new front door. “

“ Don’t be ridiculous. He is still a boy. “

“ Barely. “

“ Aglaea, believe me. My back won’t take much sorrow. “

She chuckles and tilts his head back, enough so her chin would rest upon his head. His hands sought hers, holding her fingers in his own like a drowning man.

“ I misjudged him. “

“ You did. “

“ I still don’t like him. He will hurt Phainon, you know. “

“ Let him, lover. We cannot shelter such relentless soul for long. “

“ Who are we? Who have we become to sweet talk strays like an old married couple?”

“ Enough with you, great performer. The day is over. They’ll see the dawn of a new day whether we will guide them through it or not, hm? “