Chapter Text
Fairy tales.
Stories meant to entertain and excite—told from one mouth to another, passed down like secrets under the stars.
Some were born from truth, most got twisted along the way, yet, somehow, they all became something people clung to. A seed of hope. A dream. An inspiration.
They say fairy tales are fake and fiction. A made-up story for children at night.
Just make-believe.
But for those who really listen, those who see the world with wide eyes and open hearts—they become more than just stories.
They become sparks.
Little dreams that light up even the dullest skies.
And maybe, just maybe.. they’re real.
If you let them be.
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"He's pretty..." murmured a young child clad in a messy cotton tunic.
"Pretty? Don’t you mean handsome?" replied a mellifluous voice from a girl tilting her head to the side.
The young boy shook his tousled white hair. "No, no, he's definitely pretty. His hair glows like the sun over our land, and his eyes... they stare at you with such charm." Large ocean blue eyes sparkled as the boy fantasized. "It makes me shiver."
"No, no, you're hallucinating, Phai!" The girl laughed, studying the large mural of a fairy tale figure. "A boy should be called handsome, right? Would you want to be called pretty?" She snickered, teasing the shorter boy.
"That's not it! I just... He looks handsome, cool, powerful—but he’s mostly pretty! Like... a huge 90% level of pretty. Wait—maybe 95... no, definitely more than that..." The boy began to mumble, something the girl had grown used to.
"Pfft... It's like you have a crush on him!" The girl teased, poking the flustered boy.
"C-Crush? Well... I’m not so sure, Cyrene." The boy blinked slowly, a faint pink shade crossed his cheeks.
"It's more like..." He raised his small hand to the wall, placing it over the painted hand of the figure in the mural.
"I fell in love."
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Years of studying in the Grove made him older. However, his childlike wonder and love for the mural stayed deeply rooted within him. Each passing day, each moment of loneliness—melted away with a single gaze into those piercing eyes. It was his salvation. He was Phainon's salvation.
Phainon wouldn't deny he praised the figure like a god. How could he not? Those majestic amber eyes, that mesmerizing mane that shone like a halo, and the outstretched hand that could take away Phainon’s struggles. Ah… what was life without him—the majestic Prince of Castrum Kremnos.
The mural of the mysterious prince from Castrum Kremnos: the man with hair that glowed like sunset and golden eyes that shimmered with light and charm—dancing across Phainon’s dreams and desires, from then until now.
The fairy tale spoke of the Crown Prince’s glory in war and triumph; the moment he seized the crown from the old ruler and obliterated all who stood in his way. The prince was crowned in the blood of his foes, yet his stature glowed, his eyes strong and full of vigor. A picture-perfect portrait, forever ingrained in Phainon’s mind.
On that day, the boy—now a full-grown man, returned to Aedes Elysiae, his quaint hometown nestled by the sea. The waves shimmered and reflected bits of the afternoon sun, boats bobbed lazily against wooden docks, and soft creaks of old wood harmonized with the distant coo of birds.
A familiar salty fragrance drifted in the air, blending with the earthy scent of golden foxtail grass swaying gently under sea breeze. Ah, he's home.
Phainon moved with rhythm, each breath steady as he walked through the fields. The tall grass brushed against his legs, their feathery plumes swaying along the wind like whispers of villagers sharing stories of a son returned. Not long, his eyes caught sight of their home—a simple wooden house that was a norm in their small village, weathered but standing strong.
He reached for the oak door, humming an old tune that mingled with the wind's whistle. The knob turned with a click, and the door opened with a soft squeak. Sunlight poured in, casting long shadows across the floor. He noted the usual quiet atmosphere—his parents were likely out in the fields. Farmers worked from Entry Hour till Parting Hour, afterall.
His feet led him on instinct to his room. Just for a moment's rest.
“Nothing has changed.” The boy murmured, more to himself as he entered the small space that had once been his sanctuary. He let his hand glide across the cabinet’s surface, as if confirming its texture with memory. His eyes locked onto one drawer in particular. Allowing his fingers to linger a bit longer, hesitating, before opening it with gentleness.
“It's still here.” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper. From within, he drew an envelope—its edges worn, the paper inside slightly crumpled and faintly yellowed with age. His hands, warm and calloused, still fresh from endless training, unfolded the letter with great care. It was but a special message—one from his sister.
"Hey Phai!
By the time you read this note, I'm probably long gone.
Not that It means I'm dead, okay?I'm just following my dreams–my own path in life.
Don't you think living a mundane life in this village is such a waste? I mean, Aedes Elysiae is a fine place for sure.. I love our small, quiet village embraced by the lovely sea and graced with golden grassfields. But…
Well, you get what I mean!So why not just live life to the fullest? Travel around the world, have a great adventure, meet various people, and make memories out of every beautiful moment. We have our freedom, you know! The freedom to follow our dreams and make them our reality.
Me, in particular, would love to travel the cosmos! You’ve heard of them, right? The books called them the Memokeepers. The way they forge and retain memories of the planet and its people, using your words—made me fall in love.
Memories are beautiful things, aren't they? We both carry precious memories we keep in our hearts and soul. Ones we hold onto, even after a lifetime.
I want to relive them, and share them with the world. It's my dream to create romantic stories, after all.
And you, of all people, should know that dreams can be fulfilled, right?
Trust your gut and follow where your heart leads you. I'll always be there, cheering you on!
(This is definitely not me trying to rebel against our parents' wishes, alright!!!)"
— Your sister, Cyrene
Phainon released a shuddering sigh, eyes squinting as a soft smile formed on his face. His sister really left a huge mark in shaping his personality. If it weren't for Cyrene's lively voice and unique stories, Phainon wouldn't know how his life might have turned out. He feels happy, even if her presence were nowhere near him. Even if he doesn't know of her current situation or feelings, he knows—deep down, that her sister's finally doing something that made her truly happy.
He folded the paper back to its rightful edge, gently placing it within the confinement of its envelope. He suddenly remembered the first time he read this letter, the day Cyrene left it at their home—the same day he left to continue his studies at The Grove. Unfortunately, for specific reasons he doesn't know, his professor wouldn't let him graduate normally like others.
Her disappearance birthed worry and anxiety within the village. She was Aedes Elysiae's cheerful and favored girl. Naturally, they'd be worried—like sheep looking for their shepherd. The commotion died down, eventually. It only took a young boy, Phainon, screaming with all his heart and soul, about the message Cyrene left. If anything, Phainon was happy—and more than glad that their townsfolk were understanding and open-minded. He and everyone deeply loved their village and its people, and would never resent those who choose to create their own path in life.
It has been four years since then, four whole years of contemplating his sister's words—her ideals.
Whenever he's alone and anxious, his mind would always drift to Cyrene's message. In hopeful times, it helps; in desperate times, it doesn't. How could he ever fulfill his dream when it entails that of a tale? A fairy tale.
He's studied for far too long at The Grove, yet not once has he ever come across the name or tale of Castrum Kremnos’ Prince. It was as if it never existed in the first place. Like it was just a mere fairytale.
But why would they paint the tale so majestically? Why would they know of its origins? How is it that they match Castrum Kremnos’ history so closely? How could it be fiction when there were facts all over that one single mural?
Phainon's doubts grew bigger and bigger, and never did his heart cease its wishful, hopeful thinking—that the Prince of Castrum Kremnos, the mural's fairy tale, was real.
"...Follow my heart, huh."
Phainon exhaled with a grin, following a big toothy smile on his face. “Alright, I’m good to go.”
The white-haired man raised a sketch of the prince’s fairytale mural. On the back, a map and location were drawn in faded ink—Castrum Kremnos—the place where the tale originated; the place he would travel to.
He left Cyrene's note back at their home, hoping that was enough indication for his parents to know where he had gone. Not that they'd ever look for him—they were far too understanding for that.
His travel would be long and strenuous—something he was used to, given that The Grove was miles away from his hometown. Surely, a journey such as this wouldn't be too arduous, and even if it was, it wouldn’t stop him.
Phainon carried all the proper necessities: enough rations to last him until the next town, gifts and offerings to the Crowned Prince, his love letters—from childhood up to now—a map in his hand, and a definitely-quite-heavy greatsword that felt weightless on his back. These should be enough for a lone traveler.
His feet carried him long through the paths of sand and soil before eventually arriving at his first stop, The Eternal Holy City—Okhema. He was fortuitous, arriving before Curtain-Fall hour, when, in any other place, the sun would supposedly dip below the horizon, and the moon would cast its glorious light.
“The sun's high above, even though it's almost Curtain-Fall Hour—just as the books described. How amazing…” Phainon murmured, dragging his sparkling eyes to admire the unique place.
It was nothing like his village. Definitely. He had only just crossed the bridge leading to the entrance, and already, he was in awe. The moment he stepped into the open plaza, his eyes widened, and his jaw went slack. This is where Kephale, the Worldbearing Titan, left his blessing—the eternal dawn. And truly, it fits that of the endowed Titan. This is nothing like Aedes Elysiae.
Phainon explored the grand city with exuberance. His reactions might be too exaggerated, but for a country boy who has never seen such a place—it was totally comprehensible.
It was worth mentioning that it felt... romantic. Wisps of gold dust hung in the air as he walked through the grand city. The pillars were intricately forged and structured—screaming fine architecture and elegant nature. Cyrene would have loved to be here. Or maybe she already had.
There were also huge, no… ginormous animals. If he remembered correctly, they were Dromas. His professor absolutely loved relating Dromas to his lessons—even when it was Philosophy or Physics, the teacher would always find his way to mention one or two Dromas.
Phainon was most intrigued by the baths. He wasn't unfamiliar with the concept—everyone took baths. If you didn't take one, there's a high chance of being ostracized by society! Trust him, it couldn't have been worse. However, what piqued his curiosity was that it had a plural form... meaning it included several people in one bath...?
He had learned of Okhema's large baths from books, but reality is often so different from written words. And immediately after entering said baths, his jaw dropped down to the ground. It was… heavenly. Like he just entered an otherworldly realm of baths alone. His eyes enlarged wherever he looked; warm baths, cold baths, unique chimeras and seals, as well as people—though not that much, considering it was almost Curtain-Fall Hour. Nonetheless, the waters were clear and magnificent. They looked pure—that's one word he'd use.
He walked carefully near the center, just a slight feel of Okhema's popular baths. I wonder… what would it be like, bathing with him? Phainon lingered on the thought as he gently swayed his hand under the shallow waters. His imagination drifted before he could stop it. He blinked. Shook his head. And flushed as his mind conjured a different picture. I'll take him here when I find him.
Phainon left the grand City of Okhema long before Entry hour—much too excited to arrive at his destination.
The journey from Okhema to his next stop, Janusopolis, wasn't too challenging. In fact, it was quiet and idyllic. Perhaps, it was due to the city's guards or patrol, but there was no sign of anything monstrous or worse within the vicinity of Okhema. It was too peaceful, one might say. He didn't even see a hint of quarrel anywhere. Probably another blessing given by the Titan Kephale.
Given that his travels were uneventful, Phainon was able to admire his surroundings. He marveled at the large statues and buildings, holding memories of a bygone age. It was evident from the creases and cracks one could scrutinize. Even the path from the former city to the next was elegant and properly built. A round of applause for those who paved such a fine road. Thank you. Phainon mused to himself, almost skipping in strides—as there were none to see him anyway.
Not long after, he arrived at Janusopolis—the land blessed by the Passage Titan. How come these large cities are blessed by specific titans? Aedes Elysiae is a fine place, it should also be guarded by one small deity or two. Well… maybe their guiding deity could be the Castrum Kremnos’ Prince itself. Not to be delusional, but it is a possibility.
It's true that their small village was free from harm, lest for the occasional shortage of catch from the sea. Truly, it could be the Prince's divine intervention!
Anyway, Janusopolis, a quiet town known for priests and prayers. Which, at that early hour, was true. He only met three little red-headed girls, in the entirety of his trip. Phainon assumed they were triplets from their looks and names: Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon. They all spoke the same voice, save for the pitch and enthusiasm. Tribbie had this sweet, soft, and calm voice, she seemed the Oldest of the three. Trinnon was the quiet and soft-spoken one, who also had this flower eye-wear..? Phainon wondered how she was able to see with that on. Lastly was Trianne, the most enthusiastic and adventurous one. She had the most knowledge of all the passages and pathways along the city. They didn't mind accompanying him, a stranger, to a shortcut only they knew. They're all sweet and kind children!
He was once again surprised—fascinated even, from the mechanisms he was introduced to. Phainon didn’t even know such a device existed! They looked like stone tablets that had wings on each side of the upper half. Apparently, the mechanism allows one to travel to different locations with a single prayer to the Titan of Passage. The prayers were too complex and jarring to his mind, but none were too difficult to handle by someone like Phainon. No no, he's not being cocky! He's spent long, long years studying that words and language weren't on Phainon's list of top 10 struggles.
Apart from the unique mechanisms, the land itself was graced with flowers and flowing waterfalls. Phainon was sure to bring the Crowned Prince here with him next time, too.
Upon Parting-Hour, Phainon decided he should continue his travels. He was far too giddy and ecstatic knowing that Castrum Kremnos drew near. It was only a few more small towns and long, long rocky roads—and possibly mountains—before his destination. He could do this. This was nothing if he got to meet his beloved fairy tale.
Yeah, surely, he could do this—even if some weird, hooded individual was running straight at him.
Huh? Wait. Was he being targeted?
"Eh?" Phainon halted as a man, about his height, launched a direct attack. A quick fist nearly grazed his face—he dodged it by a hair. The man however, continued his assault, throwing a handful of the ground’s sand towards him, blurring Phainon’s vision for a second.
On instinct, he jumped back, putting space between them to gather himself. Phainon rubbed his eyes open, teary and dry from the sand thrown at him. Without much time to help himself up, the assaulter raised another attack, a leg straight to Phainon’s head.
"Woah! Easy there!" Phainon shrieked, rolling over to save himself from the man's brutal kick. He struggled to defend himself—I mean, he could’ve fought back, if not for the important map in his hands. With the chance of further distancing himself, Phainon finally tossed his belongings far from the fight.
Phainon took an immediate stance, giving his opponent a once-over. He reached for the sword on his back—then paused. The man before him bore no weapon, simply attacking with bare hands and nature's natural resources (sand). He dismissed his sword on the ground, as if it were not needed.
Phainon collected his thoughts, formulating schemes on how to confront the sudden assault of this mysterious man who seemed to await his movements. Normally, he wouldn't think twice before attacking. But this time, he didn’t try to strike first—he wasn’t even trying to fight in the first place! He scanned the hooded man and watched for the next possible move or attack.
Then, Phainon noticed the red marks on the other's skin. Are those tattoos? He tilted his head slightly, eyes following the line of tattoo that drew a pattern around the man's body. Albeit unknowingly, Phainon’s eyes drifted to the other's chest. More tattoos. His eyes froze, still stuck on that specific spot. Unblinking and widely open. A hard lump formed in his throat—one he didn’t even know was there, until he swallowed thickly.
...He walks around with those out like that???
"What are you looking at?"
In a flash, the man closed their distance, flying a harsh punch straight at Phainon’s face. He barely managed to dodge—ducking to evade the man's strike. Using his opponent’s momentary instability to his advantage, Phainon drove his elbow up, aiming to strike at the man’s stomach. Unfortunately failing, as the other jumped off of him instantly.
They exchanged a flurry of hits. Blows landed hard and fast. Hits from skin-to-skin smacked and resounded, both equally giving and receiving throws. Each and every strike was relentless, and returned just as strong. To any onlooker, the fight might’ve looked like it lasted far longer than it did.
Phainon felt a smirk form on his lips unconsciously. Suddenly feeling smug as he continued to fight his opponent. "You seem tired?" he teased.
“Are you talking about yourself?” the man shot back, slipping past another punch.
His voice was deep. It sounded velvety and smooth. It hummed in Phainon’s eardrums like a lullaby or a sweet song.
The man pulled Phainon by the arm, slamming him to the ground to throw him off balance. Phainon allowed the notion, aiming to take advantage—immediately after, he was able to overtake the other by switching their position. Phainon gripped the man’s arms, aiming to lock and pin them behind his back. Almost. His opponent kicked off the ground and pushed him away with his thick legs, breaking free with surprising strength.
The man stood back up, and just as Phainon began to rise, his opponent yanked the hood off his head in one rough motion. Streaks of blonde hair spilled from its confines, red tips flicking at the ends. Oh—another tattoo, under his right eye this time. It matched the ones etched across his body. But what caught Phainon off guard were his eyes. It was Gold. Shining like the sun. It was blinding. It was beautiful.
The blonde-headed man spoke, his brows raised, voice laced with confidence. “Try and keep up, white-hair.”
And, oh.
Oh.
Oh, wow.
Honestly? Phainon deserved the punch he received the next second.
A large, bubbled-up thought formed inside Phainon’s head before his eyes blurred from the impact, throwing him off balance, landing straight onto welcoming sands.
...The hell? He’s so pretty.
The blonde man stopped at that, his brows raising as he watched the white-haired man sit up from the scrawny sands. “Did you surrender just now?” the blonde asked, assuming Phainon took that hit on purpose.
Phainon rubbed his jaw, testing it carefully. Titans, it almost felt like his jaw had actually dropped—literally. “Pardon?” Phainon barked out a harsh cough, his throat suddenly dry. “Why would I surrender? I was the one assaulted.” He unintentionally spat the word, bitter and wounded.
The man before him narrowed his eyes, scoffing as he crossed his arms before his chest. “You are a thief. Return the belongings you’ve stolen.” The blonde sounded cold—matching the same bitter tone.
Wait, what? Phainon snapped his head up, glaring confusedly at the man who now met his gaze. “I did not do such a thing?” He replied, tone genuinely stunned. Him? Stealing? That was downright offensive!
The blonde man tilted his head sideways, scrutinizing poor Phainon as he brushed sand off his tunic. “A stranger came to heed my aid. They spoke of you stealing their belongings.” The man started.
Phainon gave a befuddled look, his eyes catching sudden movement behind the blonde. “...You mean that guy running off?” he asked, pointing toward a man in the distance, lugging several bags and clearly stumbling as he tried to keep his pace.
The blonde turned his head, gazing down the shadowed path where a man ran like he was being chased. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, brows furrowing as he let out a smooth, unimpressed “hmph.”
The golden-eyed man slowly returned his gaze to Phainon. “I apologize. I did not realize I was being fooled.” Phainon couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow—he knew. The man felt guilty. Remorseful, even.
Phainon blinked slowly and rose from his heel, better examining the man before him.
“So, you were the one stolen from,” he said.
The blonde gave a slow, hesitant nod.
Oh, that was… hapless. The man stood there—steady as a statue. He looked to be contemplating something. In the meantime, Phainon began to gather his belongings, tidying the important map that was slightly crumpled on the sand. The stranger remained silent. It wasn’t just quiet—it was heavily quiet.
Phainon, even as the talkative type, couldn't break the still-water silence. It was already awkward as it was. He should say something. Anything.
That's right. Phainon had always been chatty, and empathetic enough to understand and share troubles and emotions with those he interacted with. This trait of his worked well to his advantage during debates back at The Grove. Though sometimes, his chatterbox of a mouth would spew more than he could chew.
“Would you like to travel with me?”
The words escaped his mouth before he had the chance to think them through. And even when he did think them through... well, he couldn’t deny that some part of him agreed with the notion.
“—I'm Phainon. I'm heading to Castrum Kremnos,” he quickly added, a touch nervous at the stranger’s silence.
The name Castrum Kremnos made the man twitch—barely, but it was there.
“Why would you offer such a thing to a stranger who attacked you abruptly, with no hesitation?” the blonde asked, tilting his head again. Another strand of hair slipped from beneath his hooded scarf. He's long-haired, huh?
“I mean, you were the one stolen from. I’d say you’re the victim here,” Phainon replied, voice lax but tinged with a careful edge. “Why didn’t you run after him? I’m sure you could’ve caught up in a few seconds.” It's true. The man ran up to Phainon within seconds. How could he not run after a slow-paced man, struggling to keep his pace from stolen goods he carried?
The blonde averted his gaze. “My baggage is of no importance. Aside from the rations I saved up, none of it really matters.” He parted his lips slightly and bit down on the bottom one, trying to wet the chapped skin. He looked a little parched.
And yet, Phainon couldn’t help but feel strangely conscious of the gesture. Another lump formed in his throat—this one, he struggled to swallow.
“U-Uhh, sure. Well, my offer still stands...” he stuttered, blinking away, as if it could wash the thoughts out of his mind. Phainon wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. Was it really this hot, even when it was almost sunset? You know, actually—yeah. The setting sun can release more heat, for sure. He moved his gaze downward, suddenly feeling guilty for noticing every detail of the man’s movements.
The blonde looked back at him, searching his eyes—as if trying to gauge his sincerity through sheer gaze alone. In which, Phainon felt another bead of sweat run down his skin. Wow, that gaze made him feel extremely hot. Nervous. That’s what he meant. Nervous.
Just as Phainon was about to speak again, the silence too hard to swallow, the man spoke.
“...My name is Mydei,” he finally said, then immediately turned his gaze back to the horizon.
Phainon felt an odd sort of victory spark in the back of his head from the other's reply. “My-dei.. Mydei... Mydei..!” He muttered the name firstly, rolling it over his tongue and feeling rather comfortable in speaking it.
“Nice to meet you, Mydei!” Phainon beamed, flashing a genuinely warm smile as he extended a hand, palm up, toward his new companion.
Mydei, once more, tilted his head in slight confusion. Phainon unconsciously copied the action, brows rising in question. Was this a wrong move? Perhaps, a difference in culture…?
Amidst Phainon's thoughts, an unsure hand was placed above his own. Mydei’s fingers slightly retracted, and Phainon was quick enough to catch his whole palm before the other could pull away.
“This is a custom in my land, Aedes Elysiae.” He brought Mydei’s hand beneath his lips, planting a supposedly-far kiss—which turned into lip-to-skin contact instead.
“U-Uh… uhm. This is a sign of respect… and… friendship…”
Phainon was fully sweating now. He could lie. He lies really well—so well that most wouldn’t even notice the truths from the lies. But making something up in the heat of the moment? In front of a really beautiful stranger? Uh-huh. No.
He hoped the stranger wouldn’t notice. Most especially, he hoped the stranger wouldn’t think weirdly of him. Oh, Titans, please. He wanted this beautiful companion by his side for the rest of the journey.