Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is no word for love in the Kremnoan language, at best it is a borrowed word from the surrounding territories who place a name to the feeling. Gorgo cannot claim to wholly understand it, even as a queen, but she knows the word betrayal, she knows the word family, and she knows the word coward . All three apply to her husband as he dangles their son above a cliff by the front of his shirt, so afraid of what may come to pass that he hurdles himself towards tragedy. 

It happens in succession: Eurypon’s cursed hands let go. Mydeimos falls. Gorgo decides if her son is to fall, they will fall together.

The water is cold and she struggles to keep herself and her child alive in the rapids, but she is strong, and she knows her son is too. Body honed by years of training she fights until she can no longer feel her own flesh, and still she continues as jagged rocks tear into her. Her fingers bloody as she attempts to grab onto anything to pull them to shore, but it is a futile thing when one arm remains firm around her child.  

Were the situation not as dire, pride would well in heart at the resilience of her little lion. He too fights, gasping air where he can.

In the end, they are only mortal and darkness overcomes them.

It is a day like any other in Aedes Elysiae. A bright sun cascades its warmth across the land, dappled light filtering through the leaves as they dip and bow, dancing with the breeze. So playful they are that when the wind blows, you can hear the invitation in the branches — come spend the day with me .

Cyrene hides by the docks, confident that Phainon would never find her here, as she clasps her hands over her mouth. It is youth that makes this play oh so exciting. You see, when you are young, everything is of vivid importance. The fate of the world might hinge on a single exhale (or at the very least your win or lost). 

She stays perfectly still when a loud splash rips through the lull of their small town. Cyrene hears thrashing, and the panicked voice of her friend. She climbs out of her hiding spot, worried as her eyes scan the waterline. Phainon is a strong swimmer, but she knows there is something utterly wrong when a familiar head of white hair dunks beneath the water. For a moment, she cannot breathe, as if it were her beneath that endless blue. 

Phainon barely resurfaces again, attempting to bring along the limp body of a woman. Her weight is too heavy for the small boy, as he sinks again, somehow keeping the stranger’s head above the surface. The usual calm waters move in violent waves as if Phagousa was offended at their arrival. Cyrene remembers to move again, and she runs towards help knowing even with their combined strength they would not be able to surface with the drowning woman. 

One of the benefits of a small town is that the scream of a child brings every neighbor, tugged by the strings of love. She yells, and in an instant the adults stop their tasks, rushing to see what was wrong. Phainon’s parents are the first to make it to the docks, and they waste no time asking questions. 

Heironymus dives into the water, desperate to reach his son, and Audata follows closely behind. There are many days where the family spend their time waist deep in water catching fish and enjoying the cool splash, the gift of sea. Today is not one of those days, and the simple farmers pray in their hearts that their son still lives. Together they pull up Phainon from under the water. Audata sees the woman too, and points as her husband dives again to retrieve the stranger. 

With Phainon secured in his mother’s arms, Heironymus pulls the woman to shore. As they hit the land, only then do they notice that in Phainon’s arms was another younger boy. 

The woman coughs up sea water as the village doctor presses her chest. 

“My son,” her hoarse voice calls out, hand clawing, searching. “What of my Mydeimos?”

Half drowned, and soaked to the bone, Phainon grins ear to ear.

 “I got him.”

Chapter Text

The arrival of two strangers spreads throughout the town in a single day. Nothing ever happens here, for better or for worse, and so they cannot help but to crowd. They look over each other’s shoulder, peering into the residence of Heironymus and Audata hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious duo. 

They would ask about Phainon and his health if they did not already catch sight of him rocking on his feet sheepishly as Cyrene stared at him, uncertain if she wanted to be angry or concerned. In the end they wordlessly make amends, knocking shoulders the way only friends who have spent their entire lives together would understand. It may be a few years before it takes form, but there is a hero inside them both that radiates gold, an immutable piece of them that compels them to save who they can. For now, they are only Phainon and Cyrene, two wide eyed children observing the unconscious boy with the shallow breath, and the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

Gorgo reaches for her son, holding his hand. She can only think of how small he is and how cold he was in the unforgiving sea, but he lives and so she knows he will come out of this stronger than ever. “I will repay you tenfold, I swear it.” This is the queen’s final words as she fades out of consciousness once again, heart settled that her son was close by.

That was five days ago, and Mydeimos had recovered well. His arm was still in a sling, but it appeared somehow Gorgo had protected him from most injuries using her own body as a shield. Though she was still bedridden, by no means was she slacking off. Already she had asked where she could trade for wood to build a home and inquired about any land that would welcome a new resident. Though she had no money, nor farming skills she assured them that a hunt would be of no issue, and if there was a need for a warrior there would be none finer than her. 

“Well if it’s wood you need,” Galba the hunter says, “That should be simple enough for me to get. I’ll get that brat Piso to collect some too! Since he likes to skip class so much, he might as well do something useful!” 

Galba’s wife chimes in next. “You needn’t worry about land either.” She rolls out a scroll of parchment where the beginnings of a floor plan for a humble house is drawn in careful detail.

“We don’t mind if the new house cuts into our yard,” Audata says, “You have a growing boy, he’ll need space to run and play.” 

“A child should have space to study and learn,” Pythias chimes in. “When he attends school surely he’ll need a place to store his materials and books too.”

The villagers continue to add their ideas, and Galba’s wife takes each suggestion and begins to redraw the schematics. To offer help so readily to a stranger without the expectation of return leaves Gorgo speechless. 

She turns her head and hopes that no one can see the emotions on her face.

Phainon decides he doesn’t like Mydei very much.

He knows it’s not very nice considering the situation, but he thinks Mydei is a show-off, and there’s no other way to put it — kind of mean . Mydei spends his time helping the adults cut wheat instead of playing with the rest of them, even when one of his arms is still injured. The other kids grumble about it too when their parents wag their fingers and compare them to the new boy. He knows Mydei sees them when they run past the fields. He looks at them with no expression before turning back to his work. Phainon says as much, complaining to the half-listening ears of Cyrene.

“I don’t know,” Cyrene says, swinging back and forth, “If you ask me, I think you two would get along."

“No way!” Phainon says, swinging his wooden sword in the air. “We couldn’t be more different!”

Cyrene hums mysteriously in that way she does that always makes her seem wiser than a child should be.

Mydei was not supposed to listen when his mother was speaking with the doctor, but silently he pressed his ear to the door. “Gorgo,” the doctor had frowned, “The fact that you are alive is a miracle.” Mydei could imagine his mother crossing her arms as she spoke. “I decided I wouldn’t die, so I didn’t.” That was the pride of his queen and mother. She could set her goal so strongly that fate would have no choice but to remove itself from the path of her march lest it be trampled underfoot.

“Uh…” the doctor clears his throat. “I’m afraid you will have to walk with a cane, possibly for the rest of your life. As you know, we could not save the fifth finger on your dominant hand as it could not be found and reattached. We are not optimistic about your left eye making a full recovery, but there is a chance that you will have limited vision.”

“Understood.” Gorgo nods, traces of her queenly vestige in her composure. “I do not need all my fingers to wield a sword, and I will send my enemies running so I have no need to do so myself. Better I be hobbled than Mydeimos, who should have the chance to see the world with both eyes and run towards his choices with all his aptitude without his sorry excuse of a father weighing him down.” 

Mydei presses his lips together, hearing the footsteps of the doctor approaching and makes himself scarce. His mother would want to repay her debts to Aedes Elysiae, and he too felt the same calling. He would work twice as hard so his mother would not have to.

The heat of the blazing sun was beginning to feel like a drum on his skull, and the ache in his arm made the slices of his sickle uneven. His pain was irrelevant. He does work nearly as much as he’d like when the owners of the field send him off saying something about how a boy his age should be hanging out with other kids. Mydei doesn’t know how to say he is absent of any friends. So instead he sits by himself near the Sacrament Courtyard where bodies of water cool the air. The swing sways slightly in the breeze as he hangs his legs over the edge of the wooden boarding. It appears to be vacant this time of day, quiet and peaceful, the way he liked it. 

Phainon overturned his pillow as if somehow his wooden sword might magically appear there. It was his favorite amongst the swords he had carved, having both the right weight and perfect grip. Where could he have left it? Thinking hard, he hits an epiphany. That’s right! The last time he had seen it was when he was with Cyrene by the Sacrament Courtyard swing. He hoped it was still there and began to hurry back.

As he arrived he saw Mydei. He couldn’t explain why even if asked, but he ducked to the side of tall wheat in secret observation.

A pink seal with red markings surfaced beneath Mydei’s feet and secretly he thought it quite cute. Mydei had always been fond of small animals and heard of Okhema’s chimeras and seals. He didn’t expect to see one here, but perhaps it was a little like him and far, far from home.

“No room for two seals in one pond! I gotta show ‘em who’s boss! Now find me a worthy opponent,” it says, flexing its tail. To get a better look at it, Mydei lays on his stomach. “You look very powerful,” he agrees, admiring its hue. “If I see a worthy opponent, I shall bring it to you. I too am looking for one.”

The seal seems intrigued, swimming closer. “Yes! When you find a worthy rival it’s like finding your other half!”

“My mother said the same.”

“She must be a smart lady!” 

“The smartest.” 

The seal attempts to flop up onto the wooden deck, but narrowly misses scraping its stomach. It looks like it tries to ignore the pain as it scrunches up slightly. “Hey, give me a hand. My neck is starting to hurt looking up while talking to you.” Mydei does not point out that the seal does not quite have a neck.

Instead he tries reaching down to grab the creature, but it’s a bit too far to retrieve. He looks around for something to help the creature up and spots a wooden sword. Dipping the flat end into the water, the seal flops up, balancing on the edge and making its way out. 

It flops in his lap, and Mydei touches its smooth back, petting it gently. The seal seems happy at the attention and present company, and Mydei finds he feels quite the same. 

“I’ve never seen you around before. Why aren’t you with the others?”

“Well,” Mydei is acutely aware of being alone. Despite the kindness he’s been shown, he was still from a foreign land and no one was under any obligation to include him. He did not understand their games and had no plans to disturb the tranquility established here.  “I will not be a burden. If they do not want me with them, it does not bother me.” 

The seal makes a humph in approval, nodding its large head. 

“That’s right!” 

Phainon listens, a gnawing guilt building in his chest. He should not have been so quick to assume that if Mydei saw them he would understand that he was welcomed. Phainon jumps out of the wheat so abruptly the seal leaps up, somersaulting back into water with a plop. Only its little face peers out in judgment, watching its new human friend and the eavesdropper.

The white hair youth finds this is one of the moments where he should have thought of what to say before acting on impulse. Cyrene is not here to smooth over his mistake so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s my sword!” 

There is annoyance in Mydei’s downturned lips and furrowed brow. Mydei would never turn away from a fight, but if he recalled correctly this was the son of the couple that currently housed him and his mother. It would be best not to cause any friction here. Wordless he hands over the sword.

“No, no” Phainon tries to amend. He doesn’t mind if Mydei keeps it actually, and he should say what he means, but instead he what comes out is, “You need it more than I do.” Mydei is surprised that the boy would give him the upper hand in a duel, but there’s another part of him that feels offended that he looks the part of needing an advantage. The proud Kremnoan that still lives in him can not hold back as he snaps, “Even with a broken arm, I still wouldn’t need a sword to defeat you.” Another feature of youth is allowing simple things to evolve into far more than it ever was. The rock on shore becomes a titan’s head, and the flock of birds become Aquila. Even Phainon who loved like it was his second nature had his own pride to defend. 

He sits himself by the courtyard table holding up his hand in an arm wrestling stance. “Bet you can’t!” he challenges back. It is presumptuous that he can defeat the boy who learned battle the same time he learned to walk, but it was not all bravado and empty promises. In Aedes Elysiae, no other child could match his strength. Without a pause, Mydei seats himself opposite, gripping his opponent's hand firmly. On the count of three they struggle in complete stalemate. Only Mydei’s stamina allows him to win the match, slamming his opponent’s hand down. The thunk of the wood accompanied by the excited splash of the observing seal signals the end.

Mydei stands proudly, a triumphant smile on his face. It is the first time Phainon sees him smile, and he thinks he would like to see it again. What a surprise it is to hear Mydei speak childishly too, goading with his win, “ I told you so !” 

“I want a rematch tomorrow!” Phainon declares, but he’s smiling too. He stares at his hand, awestruck at his loss. Surprisingly, he isn’t upset at all and notices games are more fun with someone who equals your flame. “How are you so strong? I want to see your arm!” He grabs at Mydei who shrugs him off, not used to such close proximity. Though Phainon pouts he relents, picking up his sword (nearly forgotten again).

“Let’s go home. Mom is making grilled perch, it’s really good!”  

‘Home’ was a weird phase for Mydei to hear. He did not know where his home was, but his mother was there and that was close enough. Taking a moment to wave goodbye to the seal, it plops back beneath the surface to dream of its own worthy opponent.

Phainon chatters the entire walk home. “Do you know how to play tag or hopscotch? I can teach you if you don’t. If we ask Galba he might give us his scrap wood and we can carve a second sword. Oh, but it's Cyrene’s turn to choose and she might want to play castle tomorrow so who knows.” 

Mydei hears every word, and though he isn’t certain he understands it all he nods along thinking about burdens and how he did not feel like one, nor the weight of one, next to Phainon.

Chapter Text

Mydei shakes the paw of the large white dog, admiring its fur coat and amicable nature. Snowy is a friendly thing, too kind to be intimidating, even with its massive size. It is more fluff then dog, and he is helpless to refuse as it insists on laying on him. This isn’t surrender , Mydei thinks to himself, only a truce , and promptly presses his face into Snowy’s thick coat, smiling to himself. 

Phainon peeks from the corner, content to watch Mydei play with his dog. He likes when Mydei is himself without any filter, so Phainon keeps quiet pretending he has yet to arrive. As he sees a familiar head of pink hair he announces their arrival by calling out, “Someone help! Mydei is being absorbed by Snowy!” Mydei bashfully pulls back after being caught. He’s free from Snowy’s weight as it runs up to Phainon and Cyrene, its tail wagging so fast it becomes a blur. 

As the trio and Snowy embark on their daily adventure, Mydei sees his mother, an axe above her head as she easily cleaves logs in half. Even with her injuries, she is a formidable force that cannot be tamed. He knows better than to tell her she should be resting, and so instead he sneaks a peak at the frame that was to be their home. Even now, it was hard to believe that they would settle here, but he had no objections. Gorgo could feel the presence of curious eyes admiring the work. She buries the axe blade into the ground, turning towards them with open arms in invitation.

Cyrene skips over first, ever enamored by the queen. “Miss Gorgo,” she calls out, “You look beautiful today!” Though Gorgo was no stranger to compliments, she always felt children’s words held a special weight. They were quick to say what's on their mind, lacking tact or ulterior motives. “You wouldn't happen to have a daughter out there would you? She would be so pretty!” Phainon ponders how this imaginary, pretty daughter might look and absent mindedly comments, “She would look a lot like Mydei then wouldn’t she?”

Cyrene and Gorgo share a look, but say nothing else further. 

“At last Cyrene,” Gorgo says as she ruffles Mydei’s hair to his dismay, “One child is more than enough. Tell me, are you well packed for whatever adventures you’re planning today?”

They nod in unison showing their packaged meals and water jars. Gorgo pulls three honey candies out, and places them in their satchels, one for each. She regrettably has nothing for Snowy, but offers him a nice scratch behind the ear, making a note to cut him a slice of sweet potato upon return. 

Can you remember a time when you were young and the world was new? The sun cascaded through the blinds, and the morning carried a stillness that only came before a large event. The ones you love are all there, and in that youth, love is tangible, life is eternal, and the moment is preserved in a shard of memory. In time, this day too would become one of those special fragments. 

The three set out, enjoying the cool air of the early morning.The wheat swayed with their steps as they chattered about everything and nothing at all. “You haven’t been to the Membrance Maze yet have you?” Cyrene asks. Mydei, unaware that the town contained more than wheat as far as the eye could see, shakes his head. “Well I think you’ll like it. There’s a lot of faeries there and they say only the pure and innocent can be invited to enter.”

“Oh, I guess Mydei might not be able to go after all.” Phainon sighs with fake regret.

“So what you’re saying is Phainon also has never been there after living here all his life?” Mydei expresses faux concern. 

Cyrene does not have a chance to express her disbelief when the white hair youth issues a challenge to combat those fighting words. “I bet I can beat you in a race there!” and he’s off, no chance for refusal.

Mydei only blinks once and yells, “You’re a cheater! I don’t even know where it is!” but he’s running too without a care in the world. 

“...And so only the cute ones remain,” Cyrene says to Snowy who was perfectly satisfied to walk at her pace, looking not too different then the floating dandelions that took flight with a burst of wind. 

When she arrives she learns Phainon had claimed victory, tallying it on some imaginary scoreboard the two have somehow created in their brains. She spares them no mind, and pushes through the bushes. Before them a large tree hollow stands, and Mydei quiets from his protests, mystified by his first sighting of it. 

Skeptical by nature, Mydei cannot help but to believe that what Cyrene said is true, for how could such a massive tree go unnoticed. He stands at the entrance, the aura of mystery convincing him to take the first step. It is dark as they descend down, until golden lights flicker, lighting their path. Mydei watches the golden butterflies shimmer with each beat of their wings, dusting the landscape in glittering gold. The road winds downward in a spiral and the further down they go the louder the sound of flutes and harps become. The hollow opens to a large expanse of space, reaching incredibly tall, almost as if they’ve shrunken down. Vegetation grows all around them, massive mushrooms and trees branches above dwarfing them like dolls in a canopy. He couldn’t understand how they ended up here, where the sunlight could come from in a burrow, but with the faeries draping decorations and bells he could feel the excitement buzz through the air, and the how and why becoming less important.   

A fairy flies to them excitedly, “You’re back!” Dolimem, greets. “You’re just in time for the music festival!” Mydei has no time to ask what exactly that entails when three more faeries appear, taking them each by the hand. 

Down the winding branches they go, a true maze to the inexperienced eye. At their destination, a golden lyre sits in the center. A tune plays from it without a musician, and faeries in formation dance to the upbeat tune clapping their hands and twirling. “Similimem!” Cyrene calls out excitedly as a blue fairy sashays itself to the front. “Cyrene! You have a new guest?” it says, never once stopping its rhythm. “We’re all competing for the dance crown, maybe you’ll win it today! I hope you know how to dance!” 

Mydei does not, in fact, know how to dance. 

He feels completely out of his depths as Cyrene twirls with a pink fairy that matches perfectly with the color of her hair. Phainon has begun clapping along, somehow accruing a long line of faeries that wished to be tossed by him so they could gracefully float down while showing off their spectacular and unique moves. Even Snowy chases his tail with a little more elegance than normal. 

Mydei stands off to the side, content to just watch the festival when Phainon pokes him with the tip of his wooden play sword. “Spar with me,” he challenges with a cocky smile. Mydei rolls his eyes, utterly unprincely and undignified, but he can’t quite help it when he’s challenged by Phainon. He makes a move to grab the blade to twist the quillon from his grasp, but surprisingly Phainon is agile, not letting him get a grip on the blade. “Is that all?” 

Surrender is not an option, and he moves forward tactically with balance and precision, not noticing that a battle was their own form of dance. When he takes two steps forward, Phainon takes two steps back. Right, then left, parry, roll. The world fades away, and the music becomes their breaths and rhythmic steps. Phainon takes a stab at him, and Mydei traps the flat of the blade under his arm spinning to pressure Phainon’s wrist until he is disarmed. Even with his lost, Phainon whoops with glee. “Wow you have to show me how to do that!”, and Mydei is filled with pride even though he crosses his arms playing it cool. “You might have enough brains to learn.” 

There’s suddenly clapping around them and they don’t know what to do but take an embarrassed bow, not initially intending to be the center of attention. “That was amazing!” Similimem exclaims. The group of fairies speak in succession, “Who should we crown king? That was like a partner dance wasn’t it?” The large tree only sprouts enough new leaves for a single crown and they could not choose a winner when both their displays had been so invigorating. Phainon kneels dramatically on the ground with his hand over his chest, “Your Majesty.” Mydei would object, but the faeries are already crowning him, chattering with such happiness that he had no plans to ruin the atmosphere. “What does our winner wish for? It surely will come true!”

Mydei hesitates, looking into the eager eyes that watch him closely. “I wish… for the safety and prosperity of the people from everywhere I ever called home.” 

“Wow! So kingly!” The faeries celebrate, ringing bells in fan fare. Cyrene whispers to their new friend with a wink, “Thanks for including Aedes Elysiae in your wish too, that was pretty clever.” He does not confirm her observation, but she knows she’s correct when he turns away with a slight redness in his ears. Aedes Elysiae would always be home and she was happy that one more now felt the same.  

The festivities continue until the trio and Snowy startle at the hours they’ve spent here. Mydei would have believed it was all a dream were it not for the crown that still adorned his head. Delicately he holds it, deep in thought. He always believed that if he were to see a crown, it would be by the blood of his father. Pressed against his heart beat, he thinks of what it means to be crowned another force even stronger than patricide and tradition. Young Mydeimos does not have a word for it yet, but Gorgo had pondered the same thing, rolling the word love on her tongue, trying to understand if it had a shape, a taste, a sensation. 

Phainon watches him closely, and dares not break the silence under the dark sky with stars above. He shares a look with Cyrenee, one that tells of the satisfaction of the day’s event. As his eyes drift back to Mydei he notices his hair is the same color of Aedes Elysiae's wheat fields and it is his turn to ponder a question: what does it mean to see home in a person?

Chapter Text

Phainon rises early with the morning sun as most children born in Aedes Elysiae do. Mydei is not as fortunate to have the same internal clock as he sleeps without interruption, curled up in his bed, wrapped around his pillow and tangled in blankets. This new humble house is nothing like Castrum Kremnos, but he finds sleep comes easily. 

Phainon slips into Mydei’s room, now his neighbor, knowing he will be late for their first day of school if he doesn’t intervene. Phainon pads over to the sleeping figure and pokes his cheek with a mischievous sing-song voice, “Mydeiii, Mydeiii.” The boy does not even stir. Phainon stretches his arms, and begins to prepare for the task of unraveling the sleeping prince from his bed. 

After all the wrangling, he has Mydei sitting up at least. It’s a small win considering he’s still blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and he’s yet to wipe the drool off the corner of his mouth. Phainon slings the half slumbering boy’s arm over his shoulder, and with surprising strength pops him out of his bed, dragging him over to a wash basin. Wiping his face, Mydei finally gains awareness that it is the waking hour. He finds himself with a toothbrush in his hand, and moves on autopilot half aware that Phainon hovers nearby. As soon as he’s done, Phainon returns holding both their bags as he takes Mydei’s wrist dragging him off to their destination.

The lack of teachers in Aedes Elysiae meant that Pythias’s class was inhabited by a wide range of age groups. She did her best rotating through lessons and keeping kids occupied with think-tasks. It was very different from the individual tutors Mydei was accustomed to, and he found his attention drifting.

“Psst Mydei.” 

He turned slightly, a raised brow wondering what the white haired boy might want. Sneakily, Phainon tries to pass something into his hands. Why he couldn’t give it to him after class was a mystery, but Mydei decided to indulge him anyway. Keeping a stoic face, he quietly reaches out with his palm open. Phainon presses something wooden into his hands, and he quickly moves to sneak a peek at it from under his desk. It is a carved wooden figurine of a soldier. Mydei traces over the detailed helmet and spear, accurately carved to depict the unique style of Kremnos. 

Memories are a funny thing. They are sometimes stored away in neat little boxes waiting for the day you stumble upon them again. Other times they float around constantly in sight. For the homeland he should have no love for, there is still an intangible bond that keeps him linked. This little piece of home which was handed to him so casually strikes heavily against his chest. He sucks a deep breath in, wondering how Phainon knew of how a Kremonan soldier would look when he never spoke of it. About to ask, he’s stopped short when a shadow falls over him. 

He looks up to see Pythias holding her hand out to confiscate what he just received. Mydei looks unsure as he begins to hand it to her, but finds himself unable to let go. He pulls back at once, gripping the figurine tightly in his hand. 

He does not care if he is to be punished. 

“Mydei,” Phainon whispers, guilt coloring his face, “It’s okay. I’ll make you another one.” 

Stubbornly he shakes his head. At a lost of what to do next, Phainon suddenly speaks up. “Sorry, it’s all my fault Miss Pythias! I’ll stay behind and clean the whole classroom, and… and… anything else! Just let Mydei keep that one, please?” 

What kind of coward would Mydei be if he let Phainon bear the burden and consequences on his own? Why did he deserve to be punished when he was only trying to be kind and give him a gift? He slams the figurine on the desk, relinquishing it. Objects could be replaced, but he would never leave a comrade behind.  

“What has gotten into you boys?” Pythias says incredulously. Though Phainon could be mischievous, and Mydei seemed to be one to keep to himself, neither was particularly troublesome nor prone to give attitude to adults. 

She looked at the figurine wondering what made it so different, and softened at the sight. Was this why Phainon had asked for any book they might have on Castrum Kremnos? To be honest, in their whole collection they didn’t even have one. There was however, a book covering different city states. Its spine was worn with age and the pages were yellowing and barely held together. Even though the book was in such poor condition, Phainon had diligently looked through every page, eyes lighting up when he found a picture of a Kremnoan soldier. 

She could see how upset the two had become. A good teacher not only cares about the knowledge of their students, but also their wellbeing. How could she confiscate something that reminded this boy of home so far from Aedes Elysiae? She was here to teach these children how to think first and foremost, not to teach them how to feel shame. Pythias was no grove scholar with years of theory and experiments behind her. In truth, beyond thinking for themselves, she had nothing else to teach. The fact that they were willing to take responsibility for one another was enough of an indication that despite the limited reach of this small town, there were two truly good children here. With a sigh, she gives in. “Please put it away. I won’t take it, but keep such things for after class.” The two of them nod, heads bobbing comically quick. They put the wooden figurine away showing extra diligence for the rest of the lesson.

The older kids were always dismissed from the classroom earlier to take on learning a skill with one of the other adults in town. Sometimes Galba would teach how to make a trap to catch fish, or Hieronymus would talk about predicting weather for farming. Everyone looked on with surprise as Gorgo appeared. She wore an eyepatch over her damaged eye, and she required a wooden staff to help her bad leg, but her eye was always trained forward, head held high. 

“Come now children,” she says, “Don’t you want to see your new training grounds?” Excited chatter from the older kids burst forth as the younger ones looked on with jealousy. “Why can’t we go too?” they groaned, much more attuned to the thought of swinging a sword rather than working on their spelling. 

“Soldiers don’t complain, your time will come. You will have to learn patience first before you have a chance on my battlefield!” They still squirm in their seats feeling as if they were somehow wronged, but effectively settle down with dreams of glory in their future, muttering about how it’ll only take one more year before they too could join in extracurriculars. 

Gorgo sets off with her little class, Mydei and Phainon at the front as they head towards the very same docks they had washed up on. “Mydei, your mom is so cool…” Phainon whispers. Mydei huffs in pride.

By the dock is a small patch of land cleared out to have straw practice dummies and training weapons. The blades are dulled, and arrow heads removed, each carefully refined to avoid true injuries. Sitting the class down on a hay bale she begins, “There is much glory to being a warrior, but make no mistake there is nothing easy about it. Just as a fish cannot fly, and a bird cannot breathe under water there are many things that will be impossible to you at first. This is why selecting the right weapon is so important.” She picks up a bow drawing back the string with perfect balance to demonstrate its power. Releasing it, the arrow whips across the air lodging into the practice dummy. Hushed whispers go through the crowd in awe. She picks up a dagger next, throwing it with mighty strength, cleaving the arrow in half with perfect aim. “Yet a fish can leap above the waterline, and a bird can dive beneath. No matter what you start with, do not limit yourself to only what you think you can do. Expand your horizons and ask yourself, what will you fight for and grasp it with your own two hands.”

With that speech, she invites the children to get a feel of the weapon’s weight and decide what they might want to start with. Her son who has been through similar training before predictably goes towards the gauntlets, and she watches with keen interest as Cyrene picks up a crescent shaped blade, and Phainon grabs the hilt of a sword with confidence. 

“Phainon of Aedes Elysiae,” she says with a smirk, “— and what is your answer? What do you fight for?”

Under her gaze he suddenly feels bashful and murmurs, “To be a hero…”

“Come now, where is that loud boy that I can hear from the inside of my own home?”

He flushes, but says again with more determination, “To be a hero!” 

Without expression she questions him further, “ — And what is a hero to you?”

“Someone who protects everything they love!”

She considers him briefly before a large smile widens across her voice. “Very good. I like it!” 

He beams, and she does not miss the way his eyes flick to Mydei and Cyrene. 

“My son tells me you’re quite good with a sword, despite much of it being self taught.”

“Mydei talks about me?” 

She ruffles his hair as she would her own child. “Focus.”

Calling to her son, “I want to see you two spar so I can set young Phainon here on the right level of training.”

“Mydei you talk about me?” he asks again.  

Mydei makes an undignified grunt, and looks at his mother betrayed. She shrugs. Oh dear.

“You do talk about me!” he concludes with joy.

“Stop talking nonsense, we’re here to spar.”

That seems to be enough to get Phainon to pay attention as he takes his ready stance. As they spar, Gorgo circles the two of them taking notes on where each could improve. She was impressed at Phainon’s speed and stamina. Even in Kremnos, he would stand out exceptionally. Seeing enough, she nods and calls out, “That’ll be enough.” When they don’t stop, she tilts her head curiously. It’s like the two of them are in their own world, meeting blow for blow, and the rest of the world simply did not exist.

Ah well, they did say experience is the best teacher. 

Leaving them to it, she goes to her less experienced students, correcting their stances and adjusting their grip. “We’ll start with defensive moves. If anything I would hope that my students can protect themselves if the need ever calls for it.” 

By the end of the lesson some are out of breath, while others beg to continue. She dismisses them one by one, collecting their weapons and promising them there will be more opportunities. 

“Cyrene,” she addresses. “That’s quite a unique weapon you’ve chosen. Is there any particular reason you picked it?” She lifts up the crescent shape to the endless blue sky, looking at it, then far, far past it. “I’m not sure.” she admits, “It just feels as if it would be able to accompany me on a long journey.”  

“Keen intuition is not something I can teach, but it appears you may have an abundance of it. A crescent shaped blade gives you strong opportunities  to disarm and surprise opponents. I suspect if someone were to make an enemy out of you, you would have quite a shrewd response ready to defy expectations.”

Cyrene smiles, placing down the weapon gently. 

“In this life, I hope you never need it.” Gorgo says. 

“I hope so too.”

With the other students dismissed, Gorgo finally turns her attention to the silly boys laying on the field. “Are you finished?” They’re still huffing trying to get air in their lungs but they return an answer with a thumbs up. “When you can, help me tidy the rest of the field.” 

Gorgo is content clean while listening to the playful chatter and friendly jabs as they debate who won. “What’s this?” she hears Mydei say, as he plucks a message in a bottle out of the sea. He removes the cork with Phainon looking over his shoulder as he begins to read it out loud. 

“Dear straynger who finds this drift bottle in the future,

It's currently the Month of Fortune, the final month of the year…”

Suddenly Phainon shrieks, and tries to pry it from Mydei’s hand, but his reaction only serves to make his friend want to read it more. They chase each other around as Gorgo watches in amusement.

“If I could go anywhere, I'd visit the mighty Castrum Creamnose, find the greatest craftsman, and ask them to forje me a sword.”

“I wrote that when I was kid!” Phainon explains. “You can’t hold me to it.”

The wooden soldier in Mydei’s pocket rests against his leg with a comfortable weight. He thinks of home, and wonders what Phainon would see it. Mydei imagines Phainon would like visiting the blacksmiths forging weapons in the sweltering heat and blazing fires. In Kremnos, Mydei would challenge Phainon to a race across the chain bridge as payback for beating him to the Membrance Maze. “What’s wrong with this wish? If you want a sword, Castrum Kremnos is the best place to get it.” Mydei affirms. “One day I’ll take you.”

Gorgo was always fascinated by how readily children could promise such unimaginable feats. She feared they would not return there in this lifetime, but when her son said it so confidently even she could imagine walking there.

Phainon stares at him. “For real?” 

“There’s a gladiatorial festival we used to host in honor of Nikador. I would want to face you in battle there again.” 

“Then I’ll fight you for ten days and ten nights, you’ll see.” Phainon promises with equal vigor. 

Gorgo chokes on her saliva, coughing abruptly while thinking about her own ten day fight, which ended with her acquiring a husband. “Don’t be late for dinner.” she tells them, shaking her head equally in disbelief and fondness.

As they continue to play on the shore they are both sprayed with a stream of water. They turn in confusion towards the sea to see a grey leopard seal. “Hey, can I have some dinner too?” 

The two look at each and shrug, reaching down to pick up the seal. 

Gorgo enjoys the breeze as she heads back first, letting the sounds of their laughter and rough housing fade into the distance. She casts one more look at them, and is reminded of the word love again. In her heart, that word floats just above Mydei’s head like a halo, and glows a brilliant white. It is the moon, it is starlight, it is the blazing sun, and every illumination ever known to mankind. Its rays reach out from above her son and it brushes that silly child Phainon, and it courses like a river over Aedes Elysiae blanketing the sea port, the dirt roads, and the drifting wheat. As she walks to her house, no, her home, that light envelops Audata and Hieronymus who wave at her as she travels up the path. They ask her how their son did in her class, fawning over how he’s always running off with his wooden sword and dreaming about heroics. There’s concern in their voices, but pride too.

She helps Audata prepare the fish that will nourish their families and begins to beat the batter for golden honeycakes. Gorgo does not worry about that which she can overcome with strength, but she worries if she added enough sugar for that sweetness she knows Mydei loves. She thinks of Phainon too and if he likes sweet foods, and then she thinks if she should make extra to share with Cyrene and her other students. 

At this point, maybe all of Aedes Elysiae should have honeycakes. She laughs at herself, not unkindly, and a revelation falls over her. 

Mighty Queen Gorgo of Castrum Kremnos, name bearer of their homeland’s founder, conqueror of lions, today, understands love.

Chapter Text

If Phainon stands slightly behind Mydei he can just barely see over his head. Though it was true Phainon had several notable achievements, and quite a list of things he could take pride in, this every so slight difference in height was what really made him want to strut proudly though the streets of Okhema. There’s a few stray golden hairs that impede his vision, but if anything, Phainon thinks of this as a bonus. It reminds him of their youth when they would run in the fields of Aedes Elysiae, tiptoeing to peer over the tall wheat trying to find each another during hide and seek.

“Hey Mydei,” he says, sauntering beside him. “Did you know I’m taller than you now?”

The reaction is instantaneous as the prince whips his head to the side immediately responding, “No you’re not.” To prove it he grips the gloating man tightly, stepping closer into his space to compare. As he slowly realizes Phainon is right he scowls, forced to take the defeat. “Congratulations. You're blessed with keen observation skills. Too bad you never use it for anything useful."

Phainon’s grin only grows larger. “Aw, don’t be mad Mydei — there’s advantages to being short too!” To demonstrate he leans against him, raising his arm to place his elbow on Mydei’s shoulder. “See? A perfect place to rest.” 

With an oof, Phainon doubles over as Mydei punches him in the stomach with less strength that he knows he has.

“If I knock you on your knees then you'll be the shorter one.”

Phainon laughs, and Mydei averts his gaze, that smile blinding like the sun.

Chapter Text

Cyrene watches her friends use the universal, time tested method to end all debates — rock paper scissors. The topic of today is: who would be the first to arm wrestle the unyielding grey seal. She has many questions, the first being how arm wrestling a seal works, and the second is if they’ll break their tie or if she’ll grow old and grey first. The seal looks equally as bored as it lays there, flattening against Phainon’s desk. She wonders how Phainon and Mydei convinced the adults to let a seal join them at the dinner table the other day, but she supposes everyone has come to expect Phainon to pull new friends out of the water.

“Hey,” she says as the seal stays suspiciously still.

Lost in their own world, Phainon and Mydei continue their duel, their hands moving in a blur doling out what they believed to be very strategic choices.

“I think the seal is all dried up!” 

That revelation finally catches their attention. Phainon pokes the seal, and it makes a comically dry, crispy noise. 

The trio share a look of horror.

Hieronymus calls out in protest as his son bursts through the front door running at top speed with Mydei and Cyrene in tow. 

The seal looks healthy again after it is returned to the sea, but it lets out a heavy sigh even with its renewed life.

“Being invincible is so lonely,” it says as if it weren’t almost defeated by the open air. “Guess I’ll just let the water drown out my greatness. If I don’t find another seal to have a slamming duel soon, some of my best qualities might just…” 

Mydei thinks of the pink seal by the Sacrament Courtyard. “Actually, there’s another seal in Aedes Elysiae.” 

The round creature perks up immediately, “Really!? Take me there! There’s only room for one top seal in this pond, and I’m going to prove it myself!” 

The three cannot help but to wonder if it was a mistake to bring the two seals together as they lock eyes ferociously. With a mighty bounce, the seals look as if they’re about to clash, but instead just flop casually upon the wooden deck with a “Hi.”

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a duel?” 

The pink seal, self dubbed the manliest scoffs as if the answer is obvious. “We’ve already battled in our minds. A real clash would shatter this world.” 

The grey one agrees easily, “When you meet a kindred spirit far from home. You don’t fight. You vibe.”

Cyrene laughs, enamored by their antics. “Say, they’re kind of like you two aren’t they?”

“Not at all.” Mydei says.

“No way.” Phainon nods.

“So your duels aren’t world shattering?”

“They definitely are.”

“If we fought for real, we would split the ground easily.”

She splashes water at them for making her listen to their obliviousness. 

Phainon points and laughs at the way Mydei’s hair plasters to his forehead. The gesture is returned when Mydei punches the lake causing a downpour over the white hair youth’s head. It isn’t long before they’re all soaked to the bone. The seals join in, thumping their tails, goading that humans could never beat one, let alone two seals in naval warfare. Not to be looked down upon by aquatic animals, the three join forces to make whirlpools in the lake, sending the seals spinning out of control. In every droplet of water and ray of sunlight, this memory is preserved for years to come. In time, they would all come to remember this day fondly, perhaps misremembering who struck first, and who laughed the loudest. The edges will become hazy as memories are prone to do, but without a doubt, preserved with perfect clarity will be the unfiltered joy of existing.

Goodbyes in their final sense do not yet exist in Aedes Elysiae. They are instead simply another word for see you tomorrow , a promise to fulfill when golden sunlight meets golden wheat at the turn of the next day.

Gorgo dries her son’s hair while listening to the adventure he and his little friends went through today. She has her own tales of youth kept close to her heart, and thanks the titans that Mydei will have some of his own to recall even when she returns to the earth in dust. When Mydei finishes his tale, he gets solemnly quiet. She knows her son isn’t talkative by nature, but it is unlike him to close up so suddenly when it is only the two of them. “What weighs on you?” she asks, taking the liberty of pinching his cheek for the simple fact that she is his mother. With a childish pout she sees less of everyday, he only says “It’s very peaceful here.” 

“Yes it is,” Gorgo agrees, determined to unravel what is left unsaid. There will be a day she knows where Mydei will hold steadfast to doubts, secrets, and hesitations without ever speaking a word to her. Today however, while the vestiges of youth still linger she will hear all that he has to say.

Mydeimos stares at his hands and asks, “How will I protect it all?” He thinks about how wheat fields can catch fire with a single spark, and how Aedes Elysiae is open from every direction. Most of all he thinks of those who have never even dreamed of danger, let alone seen it in front of their eyes. There are many things Gorgo can say. There is a part of her that wants to comfort, perhaps even to coddle, but her identity has never been a simple one. It is Queen Gorgo considers him, and replies “How indeed?”

Mydeimos clenches his hands tightly as if the act alone could help him hold his self-imposed responsibility. 

“Tell me Mydeimos, where do you see our vulnerabilities?” 

“Everywhere,” his voice comes out strained as he voices the truth.

“ — And from what?”

“Any army with steel weapons. Maybe even just one arrow with fire.” Mydei crosses his arm, tapping his foot as he imagines each scenario.

“Are you afraid, Mydeimos? Do you cower from flames? Will you turn and run from a battle?” 

“No!” He says stubbornly, standing up offended that Gorgo would even suggest that. 

That is the determination she likes to see in her little lion. Fear does not exist in the Kremnoan language, not because they are mindless brutes of war, but because there is no need for it when the battlefield is already determined. The children of Kremnos were taught early to approach every problem with the intent to conquer it beneath their heels. “Imagine it in your mind’s eye, first, a blazing red across Aedes Elysiae’s fields of wheat. How would you fight it, Mydeimos? ”

Mydei remembers running across the fields playing hide and seek. Cyrene was exceptionally good at it with her light steps and ability to stay quiet. Phainon was significantly worse, but only because he found it more interesting to tail him instead of actually finding a place to hide. One time their game had morphed into tag and by the end even Mydei had been out of breath. Phainon had drawn them water from a well during their break, and the three had lazed back cocooned in the fields like an embrace.

With that memory, Mydei jolts. That’s right! Every homestead had a water source close by already. He starts slowly at first, speaking through the problem. “Everyone in Aedes Elysiae already has access to water, so transport is not the issue. We only need a way to retrieve water faster and steadily.” 

“Very good. Now who in Aedes Elysiae can help with such a thing?”

“Teacher Pythias would have ideas and Hunter Galba would know how to build it.” 

Gorgo smiles approvingly. “It seems you have your first lesson. Perhaps the most valuable thing is to rely on your comrades. To think you alone can carry more alone than with an entire village is folly. Even the smallest of children can carry the dagger that may save everyone’s lives.”

“A watch tower,” Mydei continues without prompting, “— and I can ask Dolimem for one of their magic bells as a signal.” With a burst of energy, Mydei dashes towards the door. He only remembers his manner when he turns back towards his mother with a quick wave. “Phainon would know if the fairies would let us take some of their instruments.” 

“A general in the making,” she muses. Gorgo waves him off, her own heart lightened. She would not be here forever to carry the burdens for her son, but she hoped her lessons would always give him the tools to wrangle any obstacle.

She pauses, wondering why she never met anyone named Dolimem, and what did he possibly mean by faeries?

Children were certainly strange, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Chapter Text

The overcast sky contrasts with the bustling villagers of Aedes Elysiae, where a familiar trio sit in the newly built watch tower. From up high Aedes Elysiae looks smaller than they already know it to be, and the sea goes on, and on, and on. 

“What are they doing?” Mydei asks, curious at the wire archway where multiple people work to weave flowers in between the hollowed structure. 

“Isn’t it romantic?” Cyrene says, clapping her hands together. “It’s where the couple will say their vows before marriage under the beautiful blooms of spring.” 

“Fighting somewhere so narrow.” Mydei considers, “They must be very skilled warriors.” Mydeimos rotates his arm testing if he could even get a good swing in with the limited space. Perhaps it was because Aedes Elysiae didn’t have a large battle ground, so restricting the bride and groom’s every move would be vital eliminating the possibility of escape or delay tactics. 

Phainon and Cyrene look confused before the white haired young man laughs, finally understanding that Castrum Kremnos and Aedes Elysiae must have very different marriage rites. 

“Very skilled.” Phainon plays a long. “I bet I could beat you under it!”

“Your sword would get stuck in the flowers like an idiot. Your swing is too wide.”

Even Cyrene can’t help but to giggle before she takes pity on him.

“We don’t have the custom of fighting before marriage here. Phainon’s just teasing.” 

The prince’s brow furrows, “So people here get married without knowing if the other is their equal?” 

Cyrene nods, eager to talk about romance of any kind. “Well sometimes you don’t need a fight, or really anything at all. You just know.” 

“So,” Phainon says with slight mischief in his voice, the one he can only have around his dearest friends. “Who would you want to marry?”  

“A cute girl of course.” Cyrene says, hand clasped over her heart as she imagines the possibilities. Mydei shrugs, suddenly more interested in the stitching of his clothes than speaking or looking at Phainon. Seeing as he was a lost case, Cyrene flips the question back, “How about you Phainon?”

Chewing on a stalk of wheat he leans back and faces the sky, clouds slowly breaking as the sun fights through the haze of grey. Between the cracks light cascades down like liquid gold, an endless blue sky just beyond, promising a cradle of familiarity. Before he can answer, music begins to play beneath the watch tower, and from their vantage point they could see the wedding guests filing in.

“We’re late!” 

As they make their way to the wedding venue, their parents wave them down by the dirt path. 

It is a joyous affair: the food is plentiful, the company kind, and it makes Audata think about her own marriage, and the love that is surely waiting for Phainon in the future. She hugs her son to her,  unable to resist pressing a kiss to his forehead. “When you find someone you love,” she says, “Make sure you bring them home to your father and I. 

He nods, his gaze drifting over to Mydei explaining to Queen Gorgo how he would best someone beneath the flower archway. At first she looks amused, but then starts rotating her arm quite seriously just like her son testing how much power she could put into a single punch with such limited space. 

Audata follows her son’s gaze to Mydei, realizing perhaps they were already acquainted. That boy was almost a fixture at her house by now, and more than a welcome addition. 

She would let them figure it out on their own. After all, they had all the time in the world.