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At first, he believes it to be a thing of coincidence. A one-time happenstance.
Phainon doesn't usually visit the beachside. Cyrene likes to, venturing out of the sea to bring back human storie and other dry-land novelties, but it's never had much of an appeal to him. He prefers the reefs of their tiny village, the swirling currents of the water. His family stays home, as do most of his friends. Why would he ever need to venture further?
"You should explore at least once in a while. What happened to broadening your horizons? To being the renowned 'Deliverer'?"
Phainon huffs. "Cyrene, it's been years since I ferried anything to the humans. You know that."
"Yes, I do! Which is why you should visit again! For old times' sake."
She twists around him, flicking her tail in admonishment. A fin smacks him on the cheek, and he rubs at his face before turning to face her. "Fine, I get it. I'll just do my napping a little closer to the docks. Why are you so adamant about this anyway?"
Cyrene giggles. "Well…"
That laugh is never a good sign. "Nevermind. I don't think I want to know. Just so we're clear, you owe me after this, okay?"
"Whatever you say, Phainon."
And so like a good friend, Phainon listens to her and swims a little closer to the shore for his midday nap.
Aedes Elysiae neighbors the city of Castrum Kremnos, but their citizens don't mingle often. When the current king rose to the throne, he had towering brick walls built around his kingdom. Whether purposefully or not, the structure separated the people of Kremnos from sections of the beach visited by the Elysian mer, and so a natural disconnect arose—or so the story goes. Phainon hadn't inquired further when it started. He was just the village's young Deliverer, carting packages back and forth between his townspeople
He follows that route now, darting between the schools of fish as he swims. The early afternoon sun glints off his scales as he swims, pale-blue patches that wind up his arms and decorate his torso. It's a nice day for swimming all things considered. A nice day to see the sand from afar, even if he was a little reluctant to do so.
He doesn't swim too close to shore, instead leaving a decent stretch of sea between himself and the beach. The spot he chooses is a regular haunt for Elysian mer, a jut of smooth rock that used to house swatches of coral before the tides receded.
Phainon pats the warmed surface out of habit, making himself comfortable, before he stretches out on the largest part. His tail flicks once, twice, stirring up little ripples in the water. The gulls call above him, circling the skies, and he lets their familiar calls lull him to sleep.
The first thing he notices when he wakes is the sensation under his fins. It's gritty, not at all smooth, though he's not dried out. He'd probably washed ashore after falling asleep, which wasn't the most unusual thing to happen. The tides were always unpredictable. What was unusual, however, was…
"A towel?"
His voice is rough and wobbly with sleep, though there's no one around to hear and poke fun at him for it.
The towel is soft, the bottom half damp from soaking in the seawater. Little chimeras pattern the edges, chasing butterflies and ladybugs. One of the orange chimeras has a particularly large head, and he laughs a little, marveling over the… roundness of it.
Pushing himself up from the sand lets the towel slip from his shoulders and pool around his tail. Interestingly enough, a pile of trinkets sits to his right. There are a few shells, probably picked up from around the beach. A couple of cut flowers, orange marigolds and blue cornflowers. The items themselves aren't particularly valuable, but it paints a cute picture, the idea that some mystery figure lent him a towel and gifted him some treasures.
He folds the towel and leaves it with the cut flowers—he's not a thief, and the flowers would drown in the water anyhow—but takes the shells back for Cyrene.
It's a chance encounter, he figures. A fellow mer would've simply woken him up, and humans rarely venture this far out. This one must've found him by chance and spared a bit of kindness. An odd overlap of worlds, but not an impossible one. Regardless, it likely wouldn't happen again.
Or well, that was what he'd initially thought.
The next time he washes ashore, caught in another lengthy nap, he finds himself tucked inside a towel again. A different towel.
Phainon traces over the tumbling chimeras with a clawed hand. This time they're chasing each others' tails, the gray one with uneven horns pawing at the orange one's cheek. Cute.
But other than the mystery towel making its reappearance, he notices something new when he looks to the side, further up the beach and away from the tides. A plate. A plate of what?
He pulls the dish over and lifts the lid, giving it a curious sniff. Cinnamon, like in the pies Cyrene enjoys so much, and nutmeg. A different scent that's almost floral.
Ignoring every lesson he's been taught not to eat food from a stranger, Phainon takes a bite.
Sweet, is his first thought. Almost overwhelmingly so. Then, there's a little bit of tartness that balances out the flavor. It's some sort of stewed fruit, maybe a pear or a quince. He doesn't know, and he doesn't really care to know at this point—the plate is already empty.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, savoring the flavor. It seems like his mystery guest has shared a dessert this time. He wishes he knew who left it, if only so he could beg for a little more. Alas, there is no one to be seen when he wakes, so he folds the towel once more and returns home.
It happens again the next time he washes ashore, and the time after that, and even the time after that next time.
Each time he wakes, there's a different towel tucking him in and some semblance of a gift. A beautiful bouquet of flowers. A polished conch. Some sort of dish—spanakopita, zucchini fritters, even a leche flan, once—freshly made and waiting for him.
There is someone out there, Phainon learns, from Castrum Kremnos. They're taking care of him for some bizarre reason.
He licks the last of the cream from his fingers. A shell pastry this time, filled with fluffy custard cream. His visitor seems to have a preference for sweets, and well, he's not complaining. They're always delicious.
It's about time though, Phainon thinks as he sets aside the plate, that he found out who this mysterious figure is.
"Do you keep an endless supply of towels or something?"
The mystery man chokes audibly, taking a step back from where he was hovering over Phainon's half-beached body. Phainon blinks innocently, sitting up to greet his secret benefactor.
The man is tall for a human, and especially broad. He's dressed in a white, short-sleeved shirt with a dark brown apron that hangs from his shoulders, cinched at the waist. Bright red markings crawl up his forearms and around his throat—tattoos, the humans call them. Purposefully inked onto their skin rather than simply existing like his own sun marking.
"Or maybe just an endless supply of food? A chef, perhaps? All the offerings were delicious."
"A chef, yes," his guest answers. He stands on the shore awkwardly, patting his rumpled shirt smooth. "Offerings?"
"The flowers and food," Phainon supplies. Some humans still hold antiquated beliefs towards merfolk; maybe this man is one of them. He doesn't get the chance to explain further though before the man sighs, running a hand down his face.
"They weren't offerings, if that's what you meant. You—look, they were gifts. Just gifts. I thought you might appreciate something when you woke up from your naps."
Phainon eyes the new chimera blanket that was nearly draped over him. The man holds it closer for him to see, unashamed. A chimera-lover too, then.
"I'm Phainon. Phainon of Aedes Elysiae." Phainon tips his face forward, leaning against the palm of his hand. "What's your name, friend?"
"...Mydeimos. Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos."
Phainon twitches where he lays. What a funny coincidence it is, their meeting—Phainon and Mydeimos, just like the Amphorean heroes of old who brought about the Era Nova. Phainon of an age-old farming village, Mydeimos of a previous Castrum Kremnos. But regardless—
"Mydei, then!" Phainon ignores the startled cough that escapes the man. "Mydei, you don't have to bring me these things."
"Do you not like them?"
Phainon shakes his head. Not like them? He'd be on his knees begging for more if he had them. "Well, no, of course I like them! I just wouldn't want to trouble you—"
"It's no trouble."
When Phainon looks up, he sees a gleam in Mydei's eyes. The bangs obscure his eyes a little, what with the wind and all, but Phainon can still see a glint of something behind those words.
Phainon doesn't push. Not all stories are meant to be told.
"Then I'll graciously accept, my prince." Phainon winks at him, laughing when Mydei twitches. "That's what you are, right? A prince barefoot on the sand, coming across a merman for the first time?"
"You know that's not what this is," Mydei grumbles. He sits down to share the space all the same.
And so the gifts don't stop, even after Phainon has met his mysterious guest—Mydei—in person.
Now knowing he'll just wash ashore each time, Phainon saves himself the trouble and naps along the beach. Mydei meets him each time as he wakes up, bringing with him his usual gifts. More recently, he's been bringing a second portion of whatever food he's made for the day.
"So we can eat together," Mydei explains. He looks a little shy as he says it, finishing his own serving of souvlaki. "Food is meant to be shared."
Phainon's heart thunders in his chest. He's already consumed his own wrap, and so he stares Mydei down as he eats, watching this endearing man keep him company. "If you keep bringing me things like this, I might assume you're courting me, you know?"
He watches as Mydei explodes in a furious blush. He's in a sleeveless v-neck today, loose around the collar and shoulders. Phainon traces the flush with his eyes, red from the tips of Mydei's ears to the wide expanse of his chest.
"...and if I were?"
Phainon pauses, a trill escaping his throat unbidden. He can feel himself glowing golden, the blood rushing to his face.
"Well, then—this should be okay?"
And then he pulls Mydei further from shore, tipping him into the waves and letting the ocean consume them both.
The sea is calm, but only for a moment. Mydei emerges with a splash, followed shortly by Phainon, who was only waiting for Mydei to come up.
"By Nikador above, what are you…"
Phainon cuddles up to him, rubbing his head against the wet expanse of Mydei's back. Mydei shivers, but lets him do as he pleases, the two of them sitting inseparable in the shallow waters along the shore. They must look incredibly foolish.
"We're courting now. I accepted your proposal—that means you should get used to this, no?"
Mydei scoffs. "A little warning next time, then."
"A little warning," Phainon agrees, and then laughs. What the warning will be, he doesn't say, but Mydei knows this anyway.
Mydei always knows—that Phainon is competitive, that Phainon is unpredictable, and that Phainon won't hurt him, ever.
He thinks they're moving too fast sometimes, him and Mydei.
It doesn't feel fast, at least according to Phainon. But if he thinks about it, they'd only met a few weeks ago. Mydei is the man who walks outside the walls of Castrum Kremnos to see him—first by chance, then by choice—and Phainon is the mer who swims away from home to find him. Not far, mind you, but away nonetheless. Further away than he thought he'd ever want to be.
"I feel it too, you know," Mydei confessed once. Phainon had been talking about his home, about his parents and Cyrene and the rest of the people, living in those cold waters deep under. "We just—click. I don't want to call it fate—you know how I feel about fate—but there's just something different."
Phainon knows what he means. It feels a little predetermined, their meeting. Everything was, is, still organic, but it feels guided. Like they would always meet, no matter how long it took to do so.
He pushes the thought aside to turn over, basking in the cool night air. They'd talked until the sky turned dark and the stars began to shine. Mydei had brought out another blanket, the one from the first time he'd seen Phainon.
Fig Stew, Phainon learned the orange chimera is named. Fig Stew and his companion, Beagle Coconut.
"We're Phainon and Mydei after all," Phainon answers when the silence has run its course. "Haven't you heard of the legend? The son of Gorgo crowned in blood, and the hero who protected his back."
He runs a hand along Mydei's side, tracing the tattoos. Mydei pulls him closer, rests a reassuring hand against his tail. He doesn't answer, but perhaps that's because he can tell Phainon isn't looking for one.
Maybe it doesn't matter, Phainon thinks, because this feels real. It is real. He doesn't think it could've happened any other way. Phainon and Mydei, against the world.
That night, they fall asleep together, side by side, further up the beach in a cove away from the rising tides. When Phainon wakes early in the morning, Mydei is still there by his side.
He pulls the blankets up and snuggles closer.
"Hey Mydei, can I kiss you?"
Mydei looks down at him like he's studying some extraterrestrial species. They're on the beach again, where they always meet. Phainon's head is cradled in his lap, as per usual. It just feels best this way, when Phainon can rest his tail in the water, and Mydei can stay dry.
Well, as dry as one can be while cuddling a merman. It's more unpleasant for Phainon to be dry than for Mydei to be wet.
Phainon grins, but shrinks back a bit when the question hangs. Maybe he's been reading the signs wrong. Just because Mydei has been giving him gifts while knowing gift-giving is a courting custom doesn't mean he wants to kiss him. Maybe he really has been going too fast. "Um, you don't have to of course. I was just, well, wondering—"
Mydei mutters something under his breath, a Kremnoan phrase Phainon can't parse, and then he's pulling Phainon in by the back of the neck and dropping a kiss onto his mouth.
Phainon flushes, fumbling with his hands. Mydei is warm and soft against him, his stature firm but not threatening. He eventually sets his palms against Mydei's face, cradling it gently as they kiss.
One of his teeth catches on the inner bit of Mydei's lip, and he licks at the wound in apology, peppering toothy kisses against the corners of Mydei's mouth and nipping along his jaw. Mydei tilts his neck in acquiescence, giving Phainon more space to work with.
"You really are more dog than fish, you know?" Mydei's breath comes in short pants.
Phainon smiles, leaning back with shining eyes. He's never seen a dog in person, but he's read enough stories to know how they live. They're taken in and cared for by owners, close companions until the end of their days.
It seems nice in a way: him, being kept by Mydei, and Mydei being kept by him in turn. Taken care of. That's basically what human marriage is, right?
Phainon blinks. Mydei wants to marry him. Mydei wants to marry him.
"Yes!"
Mydei eyes him warily. "That was a little too enthusiastic. What are you up to now?"
Phainon's tail thumps against the shore, making splashes in the waves.
"Nothing. Just thinking about what to do once we're married."
"Married? Phainon, hold on—"
Phainon takes Mydei's hand in his own, smooth scales against rough calluses. Mydei stops sputtering. Now, he just looks fond. Stupefied, but fond. Next spring, they'll meet the parents, and the spring after that they'll exchange rings.
Their story will continue forever and ever, Phainon knows. Forever and ever, like the soulmate legends of old, because he is Phainon and Mydei is Mydei. Phainon has met Mydei. His Mydei. Phainon and Mydei, of Amphorean legend and of Amphoreus now, entwined in body and soul through every universe.
The Phainon and Mydei of this universe will be happy, Phainon thinks. He pushes his head closer to Mydei's, curls into the warmth of his skin. Just as the Phainon and Mydei of the next universe, and the one after that.
Phainon and Mydei will always be happy—that, he is sure of.