Archive of Our Own

There was a rabbit on the moon--an unaging celestial being disjointed from the affairs of the Heavens and disinterested in the matters of the Earth. For he neither cared not for the open palmed Gods requesting for his presence, nor the upturned heads of mortals who glanced at the gleaming moon hung high in the nightskies.

He was a mere little rabbit, with his little palace on the moon, surrounded by little fields of scintillating, heavenly herbs.

In this timeless palace, two dual-hued eyes of baby blue and gently pink fluttered open. With a yawn, Anaxa peeled himself from the comforts of his bed, a length of mint green hair draping down his back to entangle within haphazard sheets. His white inner robe hung loosely on his frame, scandalous in the way it revealed his collarbone and a single shoulder. 

He swung his legs to sit at the edge of his bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes--and yawned again, his long ears twitching and perking up from its half-drooped form. 

Anaxa proceeded to roll out of bed, drag his sleep-drunk body to his closet, and slung an outer robe over his form. He didn’t bother to tie the sash or even tuck the collars properly--for in this palace, lived only Anaxa accompanied only by his trusty mortar. With eons passing without a single visitor, propriety at this point was a hindrance to comfort and efficiency.

With robes dragging against the cool tiles beneath his feet and the ends of his hair still a tangled mess, Anaxa made his way to his fields. 

He walked through the dirt, barefooted. Amidst a field of spiritual lilies, Anaxa closed his eyes--he listened closely, to the gentle sway of gleaming flower petals, rustling ever so slowly. He took in a breath, letting the fragrance suffuse through his lungs--until he found the sweetest of them all. Anaxa turned, and within a few steps, he bent down to harvest the lily precariously perched amongst its brethren. 

Anaxa stood up once more, patting the dust from his robe, and walked back to his palace. 

Through the empty winding halls, the twists and turns surely confusing, Anaxa made his way to his apothecary--a monumental room lined with drawers filled with dried herbs and plants, surrounding a spread of tomes and alchemical spells at the center of the room. On the floor was a cushion and a mortar, the pestle rolled to the side.

Anaxa unceremoniously plopped down, and got to work to grind and blend ingredients to meet the day’s quota of medicinal pills. One delicate hand gripped the sides of the mortar, and with shoulders hunched and head tilted to one side as though bored, the other hand held the pestle to pound at the lily until it was crushed to mere fragrant dust.

He would occasionally stand to walk around the room and reach through the many drawers, returning to his cushion with the front of his robe filled with herbs in a makeshift basket. The sound of muted crunches and the grind of stone against paste echoed throughout the room, for hours while Anaxa worked. 

Seven batches of paste, to make five batches of pills, one batch of medicinal potions, and one unique blend to throw into the furnace that would spit out a Pill of Immortality.

Anaxa was busy balancing these seven batches in his hands when the ground underneath his feet shook with the might of an explosion echoing through his once silent palace. 

“Oh dear--” Anaxa fumbled, thankful not a single drop was spilled. These were his precious ingredients, after all.

Setting his work aside, with haste, Anaxa hustled towards the kilns. Did one of his experiments fail? That was possible--he was testing a new brew for healing pills powerful enough to regrow limbs. Perhaps the heat was too strong, or maybe the spiritual power condensed into the form of the pill was unable to maintain its shape. Would a liquid form be more suitable?

He sighed, rubbing his temples. 

But when he arrived, what drew his attention was not the specks of moon rocks embedded in the side of a few of the kilns, but the giant crater some distance away. At the very center was an amorphous being, languid in its writhing and blackened from soot.

Anaxa immediately materialized his trusted firearm, and approached the trespasser. If the creature was a threat, a silver bullet through its brain was as efficient as it would get.

Though, as Anaxa closed the distance, he could tell this was no ordinary being: Its hulking form laid on its side, and what Anaxa thought was soot was dried blood caking the broken body. A… demon dog? The tail sat limp, the rest of the creature unmoving. The creature groaned, curling slightly--and Anaxa could see fresh blood seep from fresh wounds. Only when Anaxa was right beside the creature, did he see stab wounds and arrows embedded into the broad back.

He was running away from something--heavenly demon hunters? A predator hunted down, chased to the ends of Earth until he sought refuge on the lonely moon. 

But Anaxa didn’t think this creature was a demon. The unconscious being had a mop of short white hair, but well-groomed in the way the strands of hair complemented his chiseled jaw line and furrowed brows. His skin, though muddy and bloody, appeared soft--surely, with a wash, an expanse of smooth skin would be revealed. Tears prickled at the corners of the creature’s eyes, his form trembling slightly--whether from the coldness of the lonely moon’s atmosphere or pain, Anaxa wasn’t sure. Most likely, both.

“No claws, no wounds at his front.” Anaxa examined the being further. How curious.

And so, Anaxa decided to save this unfortunate creature. 

It took great efforts to bring this towering beast into his abode. Though it would have been easy to drag the body by a limb, Anaxa didn’t particularly believe it would bode well for the wounds scattered across his back. Thus, Anaxa had to rely on his noodle arms and shaky legs to carry the beast on his back. He winced, just a little, when gunky dried blood smeared against his robes and skin.

But moving the beast was a relatively easy part, dumping him onto a cushioned platform sofa and laying him prone.

Step one, clean the beast. But how? It wasn’t like Anaxa could slap a wet rag against the filth and expect magic to happen. He was just a little bunny, and this was a hulking wolf--dog--thing. With a sigh, he got to work, with soft cloth and a bucket of warm water which quickly stained red.

Anaxa cleaned the wounds, too--carefully removing dirt and shards of broken arrowheads from the flesh. Truthfully, Anaxa expected the beast to wake during this procedure, even with dabs of anesthetic concoctions. The being must have been exhausted beyond belief, only twitching when Anaxa had to yank a bit too hard to haphazardly remove an arrow from a thigh. He was glad for the reaction though--otherwise, Anaxa believed the beast dead before he could be fed healing pills.

With the tact of a newborn baby fawn, Anaxa sutured the wounds and applied medicinal paste thickly. Only when he began bandaging the wounds did the beast groan awake, eyes of cerulean blue opening to take in the sight of a bunny struggling to reach behind the creature for the stray strand of bandage.

“Why… “ a grumbling voice croaked.

Anaxa’s attention snapped to the beast, and tilted his head. “You can speak,” he remarked. “Use your words.”

“Why…” the voice was thick with a tiredness that seeped deep. “... are you helping me?”

“Is there a reason I should not?” How peculiar, this beast. The first question was not to inquire where he was, how he was, or who Anaxa was--but a question of why would someone help him. How… tragic.

“You… you are a celestial being.” 

“Yes, and?”

“...” The beast remained quiet. 

Anaxa took this chance to finish wrapping the back, and moved onto the legs. Luckily, the only wound was a single thigh. Though, the morrow, Anaxa expected to observe fresh bruises to bloom against the pale skin of his legs. He made a mental note to brew some pain-numbing tea later, for the poor soul. He had a long road to recovery, this one.

“You should have left me to die.”

Anaxa didn’t quite grasp the reason why his stomach churned. Perhaps it was the way the beast did not value his life, or perhaps it was the way the last syllable of his words cracked ever so slightly.

“You will not die under my watch.” It was the truth, in its purest form.

“I am a criminal,” the beast breathed, shaky in the way he enunciated the word “criminal”. 

“Yes, and?” Anaxa removed his outer robe, stained with the blood of this creature, and covered the resting, bandaged broken body. He noticed, briefly, the beast averting his gaze down and away. How cute. “I knew you were in some type of trouble. Exactly what you did, I do not know, and I do not care.”

“I don’t understand,” the beast groaned. 

Anaxa hoped a head injury didn’t render this creature dumb as a rock.

“What is there to understand?”

“You.” The beast glanced back to meet Anaxa’s eyes, two gazes meeting to a deafening silence.

Anaxa blinked, his ears twitching. He was staring straight into the eyes of a predator, but he felt no fear. Rather, he smelled a certain type of curiosity of a… playful puppy. Yes, a puppy.

Anaxa cackled. “I am but a simple lagomorph, imprisoned on the moon to make elixirs forever for the eggheads up in the skies.”

“Please,” the beast wheezed. “If you speak such blasphemy, you will be executed.”

Now, Anaxa was truly laughing. Anaxa threw his arms wide. “I am the one and only Rabbit of the Moon, the only being in existence who can produce Pills of Immortality. I’d like to see them try.” Even if he were to write down the recipe and instructions of this elixir, only a being suffused with the gentle moonlight would be able to brew this pill.

“...” The beast paused for a brief moment, the tip of his tail twitching. “For someone as precious as you, why do you not have a bodyguard?”

He didn’t need one, with his trusty firearm by his side. But…

“I do.” The way the puppy tilted his head in confusion was adorable. Anaxa pointed to the beast himself. “You.”

The puppy’s face contorted into that of confusion, before his eyes widened in full understanding. “I am a criminal.”

“I am aware.”

“Then, why…”

“The color of your soul begs to differ.” Anaxa tapped a finger to his chin, pensive. “I care not for whence you came, but I can tell you have nowhere to go. I have saved your life--therefore, stay and repay me.”

“I--” With a grunt and a heaving breath, the beast pushed himself from where he laid. 

It took a moment for Anaxa to understand what he was doing, and almost frantically, he placed his hands on broad shoulders in a futile attempt to push the beast back to his prone position. 

“Lay back down!” Anaxa hissed. “You’re tearing the sutures!” He worked hard on that!

The beast easily caught one of Anaxa’s hands, who yelped in surprise. Before Anaxa could yank his hand away, the beast pressed a trembling lip to the back of his hand.

“For the one who showed me mercy and kindness, I will serve--”

“No,” Anaxa cut in. 

The puppy looked awfully hurt, but Anaxa was too angry to care about silly emotions. The beast folded easily when Anaxa pressed him back down, though with a whine.

“But--”

“Beast, what is your name?” Anaxa asked.

“It is Phainon.”

“‘Phainon’,” Anaxa repeated. White Calamity--what an interesting name. “Henceforth, you shall be my student.”

-----------------x-----------------

“Master, it is time to rise!” A certain puppy’s voice, though usually gentle, was oddly aggravating to Anaxa at this hour of the day.

Anaxa curled into the sheets further, willing his blanket a barrier against responsibility and the quota of the day. 

“Master!”

Anaxa grumbled. Listless in the way he regretfully pulled aside the blanket, he sat in bed and pondered the meaning of life. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, head tilting to one side at the enticing calls of a seductive pillow ready to receive his face. 

“I brewed this tea, please enjoy.” A cup was carefully held out for Anaxa to take, the smell of gentle jasmine mixing with the moon spring water wafting from the ceramic cup.

Begrudgingly, Anaxa accepted this kind gesture, and took a sip--warm, but not hot; a soothing bitterness that was not overpowering and mixed with the taste of sweet nectar harvested from a spiritual lily. His shoulders relaxed a little, a warmth seeping through to his very bones to rejuvenate his body.

He glanced down at the floor, where soft slippers carefully arranged were waiting for him. He glanced up to Phainon, standing dutifully and patiently in front of him with an outer robe neatly held open.

“Greetings, Master.” The way his pure, fluffy white tail wagged revealed his good mood, one too optimistic for Anaxa’s taste this early in the day.

Anaxa took another sip of the tea. “You are my student,” he remarked. “Not my servant.”

“I know.” Phainon smiled brightly, his puppy ears briefly flicking at the top of his head. 

For Anaxa, it was almost awkward, the way the samoyed pup quietly waited, with wagging tail and all, for him to finish the tea and set aside the cup at his bedside table.

“You don’t have to do all of this.” With a sigh, Anaxa slipped his feet into the prepared slippers and stood from the bed. 

He allowed Phainon to quickly slide the sleeves of the outer robe onto his outstretched arms, and expertly tie the sash. Despite a few weeks having gone by, Anaxa was still not used to feeling the cool air on his cotton tail, always squished underneath two or three layers of robes. Phainon had taken the liberty to resew his robes with tail holes, and--Anaxa had to admit, being able to stretch the insignificant ball of fur felt nice.

“I know.” Phainon held out a comb. “Please, sit.” 

Phainon motioned to the vanity table. Really, Phainon didn’t have to do all of this. But nevertheless, Anaxa didn’t protest, and simply plopped down onto the chair. He watched as the puppy dutifully combed the knots from his hair, until minty green strands of hair flowed over his shoulder and cascaded down his back.

When Phainon opened a side drawer to take out a head ornament, Anaxa stood up and turned towards the direction of his apothecary. 

“No guan,” he simply stated. He hated the way the updo style pulled at his sensitive scalp. That was the perfect recipe for balding.

“Yes, Master,” the puppy chirped, and set down the comb to follow Anaxa to their next destination.

Even his apothecary saw changes. Worn drawers were carefully labeled to denote the contents within, though this was for Phainon’s own benefits of learning where each ingredient was. He had to admit, he became a bit like a tousled cat when Phainon pointed out the inefficiencies of the current setup where drawers of poisonous plants found themselves amidst medicinal herbs or edible spices. Anaxa bristled at the thought of reorganizing his apothecary. 

But, Phainon had a point. Without organization, a learning student could easily mistake one species of grass for another, and take forever to return to Anaxa with the requested ingredient. So for the sake of learning, Anaxa indulged in the whims of his first pupil.

… He even gave in to Phainon’s demands to use a desk, when the samoyed puppy found out Anaxa worked with a hunched back sitting on a mere cushion. It was efficient, if anything--because when Anaxa sat at his desk with a mortar in front of him, it became difficult to grind the ingredients: When he used to put in his full body weight into pounding the pestle against paste, he now had to work the pestle in circular motions to actually grind the herbs. It was tiring.

So, he handed his trusted pestle and mortar to Phainon. He had strong arms--he could do it. The way the puppy happily obliged shot an arrow of guilt and shame straight through Anaxa’s heart. 

But now, Anaxa had free time to freely explore and experiment: The wonders of alchemy for medicinal usage was still in its infancy, and potion-making could deliver much better results than pills! 

Anaxa cackled to the crackling fire boiling a careful mixture of herbs.

Like this, months flew by--of a student listening to the whims of a teacher, sometimes ending the way with singed eyebrows. But still, they woke, they worked, and they bid each other goodnight--a routine. Not once had Anaxa asked of Phainon’s origins or the crime he had committed, even if he could tell the puppy was waiting for the simple question: What did you do, to earn the wrath of the Heavens?

The routine broke one day, when Anaxa remained seated at the vanity table when Phainon returned the comb to its drawer.

“A silver guan,” Anaxa said. “Second drawer, to the left.”

For a moment, Phainon remained silent--astounded. “Yes!” He chirped and dove for the drawer, returning with an ornament carved by the hands of a long-deceased crafter. Embedded on its front was a single ruby gemstone that matched the hue of an earring Anaxa adorned. 

Anaxa watched as Phainon carefully combed his hair to bunch in his hand, twisting the strands upwards. Phainon tied a bun securely, and placed the guan atop his head before sliding the hairpin through the silver headpiece to lock it in place.

“Interesting choice,” Anaxa remarked. A half-up half-down style, with strands of his bangs framing his face. Extremely informal, when the accepted hair style was a full updo.

“Master dislikes it being too tight, no?” Phainon blinked.

“As expected of my student,” Anaxa huffed.

He stood and walked out of his room with Phainon in tow--except instead of turning right to the direction of the fields or the apothecary, Anaxa took a sharp turn to the left towards the front of his palace.

“Come, we have a visitor.”

“Was that why you requested formal attire and a headpiece?”

“Correct.”

They stood in the courtyard of the palace, Anaxa never once taking his eyes off of the front gate.

“Who are we waiting for?”

Anaxa took one glance at Phainon--a look of confusion met his gaze. “Trust me.”

In the mortal realm, a year had passed. In the realm of the Gods, only a day had passed. Such was the discrepancy in the passage of time which allowed Anaxa and Phainon the few months of reprieve from the dramas of the Heavens. 

A crack of lightning to the boom of thunder exploded from the skies above. Anaxa was immediately pushed aside and behind Phainon’s back, shielded from a rain of rubble.

When the dust settled, the front gate held a cloudy portal, a direct connection to the Heavens. From the scent of a sweet ambrosia wafting from the swirling clouds, a Heavenly War General walked through, along with an entourage of soldiers. From behind Phainon’s back, Anaxa saw the furs of his white tail bristle, and calloused hands which dutifully ground his herbs turned into furry claws. 

“Master, please hide,” Phainon hissed.

Ah. Phainon would bare his fangs and claws to protect Anaxa. But alas, it was Phainon who needed protection.

“They are guests.” Anaxa whispered and placed a gentle touch to Phainon’s tense arms. Slowly, the fur and claws turned back into the smooth skin of a human hand. “Let Master handle it. Do not move and do not speak. Trust me.”

He walked from behind Phainon’s back and approached the general. 

“The Rabbit of the Moon greets the illustrious Winter General.” Anaxa bowed.

“Likewise.” But the general did not bow--he didn’t need to.

“What is the occasion for the General to visit this one’s humble palace?” Anaxa raised his head and smiled with a tilt of his head.

“The beast standing behind you.” The general pointed to Phainon. “Are you aware of his identity?”

“This one is not aware.” Anaxa could feel Phainon tense behind him--but remained unmoving and silent--a loyal and trusting pupil, he was.

“He is a criminal who escaped punishment.” The general made a motion to his soldiers, who took formation to block the front gates. “Hand him over, and we will overlook your crimes of harboring a criminal on the account of your dedication to the Heavenly Emperor.”

“Oh my,” Anaxa could barely hide his annoyance. “The Heavens must be mistaken. There is no criminal here, only a willing student.”

“Watch your words, Rabbit,” the general hissed. “It is a decree from the Heavenly Emperor.”

“Then tell me, what crime did my student commit?” 

“He betrayed the trust of the Heavenly Emperor and stole medicinal herbs. All for a mortal girl who was fated to die.”

And thus, Phainon lost everything. How callous of the Gods above, to have cast away their steadfast celestial guardian of the Heavenly Gates over a mere few strands of grass. Anaxa guessed this was the situation, but to hear it confirmed brought a newfound sadness to his heart.

“My student’s crime is stealing,” Anaxa tried to reason. “Phainon was stripped of his position, title, and powers. Subsequently, he was banished from the realm of the Gods. Is this punishment not enough?”

“It is a decree from the Heavenly Emperor,” the general reiterated. 

How annoying.

How very annoying. 

“Surely, there must be a compromise.”

“Then…” A pause. “Are you willing to plead your case with the Heavenly Emperor?”

“Of course.” This was what Anaxa wanted from the start.

“Master!” Dumb puppy. “For this student’s sake, please do not--”

Anaxa held up the palm of a hand--and Phainon halted in his steps. “There is nothing to be afraid of. It is merely an audience with the Emperor.”

“It is I who committed a sin. I cannot let my Master be punished in my stead.” Phainon approached Anaxa, his brows furrowing. It only took a few steps for Phainon to stand tall in front of Anaxa. “I wish to accompany the Master.”

“Silly puppy,” Anaxa sighed. “Who’s saying I will be punished? I am merely hoping to calm down His tantrum--”

“Rabbit, watch your words--” the general chastised.

“--and plead for a fair and objective punishment.” Anaxa ignored the Winter General. “You will be thrown into a cell the moment you step foot into the Heavens, and the subsequent paperwork required to release you into my custody will be astoundingly annoying. Listen to this Master and let me handle it.”

“But--”

“Please look after the field of lilies for your Master.” Without looking back, Anaxa turned to the gates and walked past the Winter General, past his soldiers. “I will be gone for a little while. Do not forget what I have taught you.”

And through the gates Anaxa walked--to leave Phainon standing lost at the front of a lonely palace on the moon.

-----------------x-----------------

On the moon, a year had gone by.

Phainon awoke to the quietude of a serene palace, void of life except for himself and the company of spiritual and heavenly flora. 

This was another reason why Phainon wanted to accompany Anaxa to the Heavens--because the passage of time was cruel to the one left behind. One day had passed in the unreachable skies, but a year had passed here, at the brink between the mortal and heavenly realms.

There were no seasons here. The sun did not shine, the wind did not blow, and the rain did not pitter-patter on the swaying leaves of the flowers. There was only the cool dew rendering a sparkling field of crystalline grass and the stars dancing amidst the black evernight.

But still, the ever loyal puppy put on his slippers and his outer robe, carefully tied his hair--slightly longer now--into a bun. He got to work, a full day of chores to tend to: It was his goal to keep a tidy palace to welcome his Master’s eventual return.

In the first few hours of waking, he mopped the wooden floors and tiles, dusted the small number of decorations littering the place, and wiped the counters and drawers of the apothecary. For food, he cooked a humble meal of porridge and stir fried vegetables. 

In the latter half of the day, Phainon worked in the fields and harvested the batches of herbs matured, before proceeding to the apothecary to prepare the leaves to dry and grind the herbs into paste. He filled his stomach with rice and a portion of meat, a small respite of a day filled with too many things to do.

And in the hours before bed, he tended to the kilns--fire everlasting, forever churning with a heat that would incinerate mortal flesh with a single touch. It was during this time he counted the days, hours, minutes--the seconds which had gone by without his master by his side.

But today, the air shivered. The leaves of the flowers swayed in unison, as though coaxing Phainon towards a direction in the distance. The wood creaked underneath his feet louder than usual, the crackling fire seemed particularly agitated today. The flames roared with a ferocity Phainon had never seen before, and even with his strong constitution, he couldn’t stand close to the kilns without feeling the heat’s intensity.

Phainon didn’t understand what this meant, until he was awoken the next day to a thundering crack and the cacophony of something breaking and splintering into a thousand pieces.

He abruptly jolted from his bed, and without ceremony, sprinted barefoot to the front gates of the palace.

Amidst the debris of what was once the front gate, stood his Master--as beautifulelegant as the day he had left. Still in that same set of mint green and muted turquoise outer robes, a gleaming ruby earring hanging from his ear, and a silver guan sitting atop his head. 

But, Phainon’s moment of elation came to an abrupt halt: Though the first discrepancy he noticed was the flowing seafoam green hair was cut almost haphazardly, tied loosely to the side--it was the appearance of a black cloth over Anaxa’s left eye which had Phainon gasp.

“Ugh.” Anaxa’s voice was hoarse, not the soul-soothing sound Phainon remembered. “This gate is always so troublesome. What a mess.”

“What happened?” Phainon did not care for his appearance, the thought of his master on his mind.

Anaxa glanced at Phainon. “Ah, my apologies.” He walked towards Phainon, the tension in his posture relaxing. “Were you sleeping?”

“Yes, but--” Perhaps Phainon could have thrown on a set of outer robes on him before running to greet Anaxa. “Nevermind myself, what happened to your eye?”

“Hmm.” Anaxa walked past Phainon, into the palace. Phainon followed, like a lost puppy who greeted his master home. “I gouged it out.”

“What?” His heart sank, stomach churning and threatening to expel the food still left in his stomach.

Anaxa turned one corner, heading steadily towards the baths. But his gait was different--slightly stiff, the steps taken with more care without his usual flair. “Phainon, do you know what exactly you took?”

“A medicinal herb known to heal all diseases,” he replied. 

“Yes, however.” Anaxa halted in his steps to glance back at Phainon. “What you took was a Thousand Era Leaf.”

“Huh?”

“You have much to learn.” Anaxa turned back to stroll to the baths. “This leaf is harvested from a one-of-a-kind tree grown in the Heavenly Emperor’s garden. As its name suggests, it takes a thousand years to produce only one or two leaves. I offered an eye as nourishment for the tree such that it will produce three leaves for the next harvest.”

“Did… the Emperor demand this?”

“No. I didn’t give Him a choice,” Anaxa cackled. It must have been a sight, watching the Rabbit of the Moon willingly gouge out an eye in front of the Gods. “Using this precious ingredient to heal a mortal is akin to setting an entire palace on fire to kill a single spider. You probably extended her lifespan tenfolds with this single leaf.”

“I--I apologize.” The rareness of the ingredient was probably why the Heavenly Emperor demanded a harsher punishment.

“Why are you apologizing? You saved a life.” Anaxa slid the doors to the baths open, and stepped through. “And now you’re here, you can learn about the suitable potencies of medicinal herbs for mortal bodies to avoid a repeat mistake.”

“Thank you, Master.” Truly.

“Help me.” 

“Of course!” 

What an odd request, for Anaxa to ask him for such favors. Usually, Anaxa was stubborn in the way he always threw Phainon out of the baths to bathe alone. Carefully, he removed the hairpin locking the guan in place, and slid the headpiece off of a small hair bun. He undid the ribbon holding the hair in place, to watch silky strands of hair flow down his back--lopsided and short, with the ends curling unnaturally. As though it was cut not with care, but with the edge of a sword. Just like--

“Why did you run?” Anaxa’s question jolted Phainon from his train of thought.

“I…” Phainon carefully untied the sash to Anaxa’s outer robe. “I feared the Heavens would punish the girl I saved.”

“So you thought you could descend to the mortal realm and protect her from the wrath of the Gods?”

“... If you put it that way, it sounds quite silly.” 

“No,” Anaxa shrugged the outer robe off of his shoulders, the fabric pooling in Phainon’s hands. “You were stressed and not thinking clearly. I do not fault you for wanting to protect an innocent life.”

“Master…”

When Phainon brushed against Anaxa’s shoulder to take off his inner robe, Anaxa jolted--unnatural, and with a wince. “Gentle,” he hissed.

“Master?”

Through the smooth hems and the silken fabric, only now did Phainon observe the presence of thick bandages underneath. With a trembling hand, Phainon slid the robe off to expose a small back--only to witness a swathe of gauze barely holding in the blood which seeped through, an ugly expanse of purple and black blooming through to touch Anaxa’s delicate shoulders.

Phainon wanted to throw up.

“I was flogged.” Anaxa shrugged the inner robe until it fell to his waist. He began working at the knots of the bandages, with each loosening dressing revealing the torn and swollen skin beneath. “Five strikes.”

For knowingly harboring a criminal. 

Phainon’s heart ached, to the point of wanting to cry, but unable to. It was his fault, someone as kind as Anaxa, to have his snow-white skin marred with scars. 

He couldn’t help the way his shoulders trembled, or the way he carefully leaned his forehead against one of Anaxa’s fragile shoulders. He didn’t know if his touch would hurt Anaxa--or if he was allowed to touch at all. But still, he couldn’t help himself from pressing his lips to the smooth skin, at the edge where purple met bare skin.

“It is my fault.”

“Do not blame yourself for the choices I made.” When all of the bloodied bandages fell to the floor, a battered body stood before Phainon--vulnerable, but so precious. “I trust you know how to clean wounds?”

“I--yes.” Phainon should not wallow in self-pity.

“It might be suitable to mix pain numbing ointment into a small pail of water.” Anaxa, with a grunt, lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bath. His feet dangled in the warm waters, a sigh of relief and comfort slipped through his parched lips. “I need cloth to wash myself with. Please prepare a change of clothes, fresh bandages, and a healing paste as well.”

“Yes, of course.”

Anaxa glanced back. There was the smallest evidence of a cheeky grin. “Perhaps dress yourself for the day.”

Ah.

Phainon was still in his inner robe, barefoot… wasn’t he? Anaxa saw him in his underwear. 

“I will,” Phainon coughed into his hand, heat rising to his cheeks. He was not crazy enough to point out Anaxa was also in his underwear, and half-naked at that.

He turned to leave the baths to gather the necessary items to properly clean wounds. He would dutifully help Anaxa wash, and begin his day by performing his chores. He would prepare a meal of porridge mixed with an egg and a plate of stir fried vegetables with extra leafy greens. While Anaxa rested, he would plow the fields and harvest the day’s batch of herbs, and prepare paste for medicinal purposes. He would stoke the fires of the kilns until it was time to return to his room and rest.

All with a wide smile and a certain spring to his steps.