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Mydeimos, despite how complicated and heavy his role had been in the whole Flame-chase journey, had led a simple life. Some might just stare in disbelief at this claim but Mydei thought otherwise. His role had been to lead his people to a new life, a new place where they could flourish without the heavy burden of death and strife. He never regretted letting go of his crown, never regretted taking the coreflame of strife and never regretted–nor mourned–when he fell onto the Flame Reaver’s blade. a previous Phainon’s blade. Now that’s where his life became complicated.
He never fell to that blade, he stood tall with his fellow Heirs when they head into the Vortex to return the coreflames until suddenly, a bright light, followed by a soft gasp of pain. His vision returned to him not long after, only to see the Flame Reaver impaled onto Phainon’s greatsword. It wasn’t until Era Nova came that he began to have nightmares, memories of the previous Mydeimoses.
It felt like watching a movie of himself being killed over and over again. Some had been Phainon, just Phainon and his hardened heart broke seeing the despair and pain. Oh how gingerly their Deliverers lowered them onto the ground until their princes’ last breath escaped them. No... he understood that wrong. The gentle eyes no longer glowed a bright blue, no longer filled with any emotions. It wasn’t their Deliverer, their Phainon, who killed them, it had always been one. It had always been Khaslana, the Flame Reaver himself.
Khaslana..
The one who complicated everything but also the one who granted the true Era Nova. The first Phainon who endured tremendous amounts of pain and suffering, with only a thin thread of hope keeping him sane and grounded throughout the cycles. Those 33 million cycles. He had seen how broken and defeated the Flame Reaver was, scars littering his cloaked form. Mydei had noticed, his eyes had always been keen but it did not mean he was weak. His form was solid and whole, from the way he swings his greatsword, to the calculating gaze when facing a tough foe. Now, he lives inside Phainon’s head.
His idiot had been very cheery when he announced he has an “older brother” now living rent free in his mind. At first, all of them had thought he was either trying to lift the mood or he was developing a split personality to cope with the stress. It wasn’t until Professor Anaxa conducted a scan that they saw another presence, nestled deep within, white and dim inside his body. Like an old flame desperately trying to survive as another shielding it from the wind was none other than their own Deliverer.
“I want him to live”, Phainon said quietly, curling his hands onto his chest as if cradling a small creature, “I know what he did, in those cycles. I mean, I didn’t experience it myself but… wait, I guess I did? I mean he is me..”
There it is, the nervous ramble, “Focus HKS.”
“Oh right! I guess I want him to heal? If that’s even possible…” He gave a small sheepish chuckle, his hands tightening, “He gave us a chance at a life, a normal life… I want him to experience it too in the world he saved, especially what he did for me.”
“Snowy…”
“I’m supposed to inherit everything, the memories, the sacrifices, the anger… but he didn’t. He spared me that pain. In his own words, ‘there is no need for you to continue this bloodshed legacy. It has already ended’. And… and he was trying to find a way to end himself. He… he said he didn’t deserve to live and I just don’t want it to happen and managed to convince him to stay and here we are! Haha…”
It took a while for them to adjust to that knowledge. Mydei was wary. Another soul is sharing a body with his lover, a soul that used to burn with anger and despair. He was rightfully concerned. His sharp eyes always trailed to his Deliverer’s face in case of any pain, any changes, only to be returned with a bright smile. “He’s always asleep,” he assured Mydei one day during their leisure. “He’s too tired and even when he’s awake, he would ignore me.” He huffed, nuzzling at the hand patting him. ‘Well, he doesn’t always ignore me, there are times I can feel him listening but most of the time he just sleeps. I rarely hear him talk too. But when he does, it’s sooo quiet, Mydei. I had to strain my ears, well, my mind’s ears but ears still, to actually hear him.’
That became a small part of their routine. Whenever they finally had quality time together, Phainon always updated him on what Khaslana had been doing. It was endearing. How he would pout and whine about his ‘big brother’. Mydei couldn’t resist the small smile gracing his features. But all good things always have a shadow to it.
A quiet Phainon was never a good sign. A quiet and withdrawn Phainon was alarming. “Phainon.” He started, his gaze soft at the scene in front of him. It was rare for the Deliverer to be in his own home but here he was, curtains drawn close and him curling up on his bed. He looked small, swallowed by the shadows of his room. He had made sure to softly knock on the door to alert the other of his presence
“My….deimos”
Ah
Khaslana then. It wasn’t often they switched. Mydei himself had only caught glimpses of the infamous Khaslana. Once when Phainon had been overwhelmed by a group of titankins that still roamed. Mydei can still remember it freshly. He was there when Phainon fell. He had made quick work with his group of titankin, ready to assist the Deliverer only to stop in his tracks. The titankins that once surrounded Phainon were gone, Dawnbreaker gleaming as it thrust into the last one of the pack. That was when he noticed the dull eyes, that was the first time he met Khaslana. Another was due to Phainon sulking, hiding inside their mindscape and Khaslana had to endure being berated by Aglaea and Anaxa combined.
He approached slowly, cautious as if approaching a hunter and sat on the bed. Just as he predicted, the once-sole occupant tensed.
“Cease your worry, I mean no harm to you.”
“I’m… well aware, Mydeimos.” Phainon had been right. Khaslana spoke quietly and he caught him tightening his grip on the coat, wrapping it around himself tighter. Mydeimos. He wondered if that was how he referred to his Mydei. Were they together? Like how he and his Phainon are? Or were they bitter enemies?
“You’re... wondering about how I am with my Mydeimos… weren’t you?”
He must have made a face as a soft breathless chuckle escaped from Khaslana’s lips, “The Mydeimoses… do defer from each other but… they all have the same traits... steadfast… and caring. Loyal and unyielding. Mine is the same, although… softer than you. Gentler with his words, more fitting of a prince than a warrior.”
A gentler Mydeimos. It felt surreal to hear. Throughout his life, he never had the chance to be nicer, considerate even. “Will you tell me more about him?” He wanted to know more. He wants to know more about Khaslana’s Mydeimos and how much more different they were.
“Then you might make yourself comfortable.” And he did, inching himself more onto the bed. Khaslana’s voice is undoubtedly Phainon’s but the differences between them were obvious. His Deliverer’s voice always has a jovial lilt to it, soothing to hear and often bolster the spirits. Reliable as it eased tensions whenever he made a grand speech during those harder days. But Khaslana’s was different. Deeper, raspier, heavy by burdens. Softer, as if he spoke any louder will shatter the illusion. His sentences were cut more often, but that would likely be from readjusting to life once more. It was captivating to hear; it was still Phainon’s, after all.
Hours passed between them. Only the low voice of Khaslana fills the space. Mydei learned a lot and those fleeting nostalgic smiles when Khaslana spoke fondly of certain memories was precious. Somewhere during the story, he had migrated from sitting to having his head onto the other’s lap. His eyes closed, feeling those long elegant fingers, running through his hair. The coat is covering him now, instead of Khaslana.
“Does he still like Pomegranate juice with milk?”
“Every single day... he likes it better served cold and in bed”
“Khaslana… I-” I can’t be that Mydeimos, he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He had seen how Khaslana looked at him, the old love still burning in those old tired eyes.
“I know… you can’t be him. Just like mine, you are only loyal to one and I’m… grateful that Phainon has someone like you to keep him grounded.”
He exhaled, his dull blue eyes looked down onto Mydei softly, fondly. Oh, how Mydei’s heart ached, “I have long passed loving him. He would want me to move on… and I shall, with my memories of him as fuel to carve a future. But for you, dear Mydeimos… focus on your own Deliverer. He still has his own insecurities that he would rather hide from you but I know you would push open his heart. I know mine would.”
“Stubborn, that stupid HKS, probably got it from you.”
“Always cruel with your words Mydeimos… would you like me to usher him back?”
“Not… yet. Just a little longer.”
“Of course.”
Just a little longer… he buried his face into the familiar lap, his teeth gritting as tears slowly slipped. The hand continued to caress his hair. If Khaslana won’t despair for his lost love, then Mydei would do it for him in his stead. It is the least he could do, for being a Mydeimos loving a Phainon.