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1.
The door to the infirmary swung open.
There, standing in the doorway with the grace of someone who had just run halfway across the city, was the Crowned Prince of Castrum Kremnos.
Hyacine groaned. Just great. Now both halves of the chaos duo were here.
“God—Mydei, go easy on the door!” Phainon exclaimed from his seat on the examination table. Then, as if making a realization, his eyes lit up like a puppy. “Wait, were you worried about me~?”
Instantly, Mydei’s face flushed red. “No, you fool,” he said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I simply…” He paused, probably thinking of an excuse. “Happened to be nearby.”
Hyacine rolled her eyes. Right. Because that was totally believable.
Considering the large grin working its way onto Phainon’s face, he was just as unconvinced.
“Of course,” he said with a teasing edge. “Whatever you say, dear.”
Mydei’s face became even more red.
…Wait.
Dear?
Was Hyacine missing something?
That was only a name that those disgusting overly doting couples called each other—the ones she saw in the baths or the bars.
Surely Lord Phainon and Lord Mydei weren’t that, right?
But then again…
Her gaze lifted from her medical forms and landed on the eccentric pair.
Mydei was now standing in front of Phainon, the two of them huddled together in hushed conversation. Actually, now that she was looking, their faces were quite close together. All it would take was one of them leaning forward, and—
Oh my god.
Hyacine whipped her head back to her desk fast enough to give herself whiplash.
Okay, Hyacine, get it together. Definitely do not think about two of your fellow Chrysos Heirs kissing.
In your infirmary.
On your examination table.
She peeked over at them again.
If it was even possible, their faces were even closer together now. So close, in fact, that they could probably feel the warmth of each other’s breath.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked down to see Mydei cradling Phainon’s arm, the one she had so gracefully bandaged for him a few minutes prior.
“Does it hurt?” Mydei whispered into his ear. He examined the white fabric like it had personally offended him.
“Don’t worry,” Phainon whispered back, just as tender. “It’s just a scratch.”
He lifted Mydei’s hand to his lips.
Hyacine cleared her throat loudly, and both heads snapped toward her.
“Lord Phainon, I should advise you to take it easy,” she warned, tapping her pen against her desk. “You could still be internally bleeding.”
Mydei whipped his head around and shot Phainon a glare. “You said it was ‘just a scratch.’”
Phainon smiled sheepishly at him. “Don’t worry about me, Mydei,” he said, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s nothing serious.”
The prince turned and gave her a look.
A look that said he’s completely lying, isn’t he?
Hyacine sighed and raised her clipboard, giving Phainon an apologetic look.
“Let’s see,” she read, “a sprained ankle on the left leg, a fractured elbow, also on the left, and four bruised ribs, which is causing minor internal bleeding.”
Mydei looked down at him with a distraught expression. “Deliverer—”
“Come on,” Phainon groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll recover in no time!”
He looked up at Hyacine. “You treated all the wounds properly, right?”
Her eye twitched.
“I am a trained medical professional,” she said flatly.
“Exactly,” Phainon said triumphantly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
Mydei sighed and placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him to lie down on the examination table.
“Rest,” he said.
Phainon frowned, trying, and failing, to sit back up. “But what about our—”
“It can wait,” Mydei cut in.
His gaze softened as he added, quieter, “For now, rest.”
Phainon smiled up at him, his hand resting atop the one on his chest.
His other arm, the uninjured one, reached up to fiddle with the small braid in Mydei’s hair.
Hyacine turned around again. The display just a few feet away was clearly not meant for her eyes.
Unbelievable. Couldn’t these idiots go two minutes without being gross and affectionate?
In front of her, no less.
Or maybe they had just forgotten she was in the room?
No. Surely not.
This was her infirmary, for Titans’ sake.
Surely two grown adults would possess enough awareness to realize they were currently standing in a glorified doctor’s office with a third person present.
…Right?
She forced her eyes back down onto her paperwork, absentmindedly scratching at the documents. Patient intake forms, injury classifications, treatment notes. The works.
Very normal medical things.
Things that certainly did not include watching the chaotic duo of Okhema known as Phainon and Mydei engage in what could only be described as… suspiciously intimate behavior.
Unfortunately for her, Hyacine couldn’t look away forever.
Curiosity caught the cat, or however the saying went.
She looked up again, and immediately regretted it.
Now the pair were looking at each other as if they had hung the moon and the stars.
It was gross.
This was all just so, so gross.
Hyacine pinched the bridge of her nose.
She seriously needed to go home.
And hopefully forget that any of this had happened.
At some point, Phainon’s hand had made its way onto Mydei’s knee, squeezing gently. The hand then proceeded to travel upwards to his thigh, and then his…
Sweet mother of—!
Nope. That was it.
Hyacine stood abruptly, her chair screeching behind her.
“Well, if that’s all,” she said, turning to face them and feigning innocence, “it’s probably best if you get going, Lord Mydei.”
Mydei blinked at her.
Phainon looked thoroughly unbothered.
“I’m not done checking on him,” Mydei said.
“You are now,” Hyacine replied sweetly.
Phainon snorted.
Mydei shot him a look.
Hyacine grabbed her clipboard and pointed firmly toward the door.
“Out.”
Phainon slid off the examination table with a dramatic sigh, leaning heavily into Mydei’s shoulder like a wounded soldier returning from war.
“It’s really not that bad…” he lamented.
“You’re barely walking,” Mydei muttered.
Hyacine herded them both toward the exit.
The door shut behind them with a satisfying click.
Silence finally settled over the infirmary.
Hyacine stared at the door for a long moment.
Then she slowly sat back down at her desk.
“…Disgusting,” she muttered.
She made a note on Phainon’s intake form.
Patient condition: Stable
She paused.
Then added another line beneath it.
Recommendation: Keep Lord Mydei at least ten meters away from the patient.
For medical reasons.
Obviously.
. . .
2.
The room had been loud for the past ten minutes.
Voices layered over each other: arguments, accusations, half-finished explanations. Someone slammed their hand against the table. Someone else snapped back.
Castorice didn’t interrupt.
She sat at the long banquet table, one leg crossed over the other, chin resting lightly on her hand as if the entire thing were mildly interesting.
Her gaze moved slowly from the Council of Elders to the Chrysos Heirs.
“This wouldn’t have happened if someone had actually listened—”
“Oh please, like you had any better idea—”
“You’re missing the point!”
Castorice tilted her head slightly.
It was fascinating, really. How predictable people became once fear got involved.
Eventually, someone noticed she hadn’t said a word.
“…Castorice?” Aglaea whispered from beside her, leaning in slightly. “You’re awfully quiet.”
She blinked, like she’d just remembered she was part of the conversation.
“I was listening.”
“That’s it?”
Castorice lowered her hand from her chin and folded it neatly in her lap.
“I simply have nothing to add,” she said calmly. “That’s all.”
Aglaea nodded with a faint smile and turned back to the heated argument.
With a soft hum, Castorice returned to her previous—and favorite, though she would never admit it aloud—task: people-watching.
On her other side, Professor Anaxa was currently engaged in what could only be described as a glare contest with one of the council members. His face was carved into a scowl, arms crossed tightly over his chest, hands curled into fists.
Meanwhile, the councilor across from him was frowning so intensely that a vein protruded from her forehead. Castorice would not have been surprised if the woman leapt onto the table and pounced at him.
Directly across from her sat Lord Phainon. He had turned slightly in his chair to face Lord Mydei, who sat beside him.
The two seemed to exist in their own little world, engaged in what appeared to be a pleasant conversation, if their upturned lips and the faint pink dusting their ears were anything to go by.
Castorice leaned forward slightly, curiosity getting the better of her as she attempted to hear what they were discussing.
Unfortunately, the size of the banquet table and the shouting from everyone else made that rather difficult.
She sighed.
Perhaps she could ask them another time.
…Though that might expose her nosiness.
(Yes, Lady Cifera, she admits that she is nosy. You may stop pointing it out now.)
Movement caught her attention.
It was Lord Phainon, who clutched his stomach as laughter bubbled out of him.
Hm.
That was odd.
His face was even redder now.
Perhaps he was ill?
Castorice glanced toward Lord Mydei and paused.
The prince’s cheeks were flushed with a similar shade of red.
Were they both sick?
That seemed unlikely. Lord Mydei possessed what could only be described as an immune system of steel. Castorice had never once seen him fall ill.
So what, exactly, was causing the color in their faces?
After a moment of fruitless observation, Castorice huffed quietly and turned her attention toward the nearest conversation instead, which happened to be Aglaea’s discussion with two council members.
The shouting match had ended—for now, at least—and had been replaced instead with a glorified gossip session.
“Please enlighten me, Lady Aglaea,” one of the counselors said, taking a sip of wine as she leaned in conspiratorially. “How can you tell if it’s actually love, and not some sort of hoax?”
Aglaea smiled and dabbed her mouth delicately with a napkin, ever regal and composed.
(It was slightly irritating how effortlessly charismatic she could be.)
“It’s quite simple,” Aglaea said with a knowing smile. “The trick is to look into the person’s eyes.”
“Their eyes?” the second councilor asked, intrigued.
“Indeed,” Aglaea replied. “They say someone’s eyes are the window to their soul. When someone is in love, it is usually quite obvious. Their eyes are filled with adoration and wonder, and their attention lies solely on their beloved.”
“Hm. That makes sense,” the woman said thoughtfully.
“I expect nothing less from the best,” the other counselor agreed.
Castorice tilted her head.
Wonder. Adoration. Full attention on their partner.
…
Wait.
Her gaze drifted back toward Phainon.
This time, she watched more carefully.
Phainon was still speaking animatedly to Mydei, seemingly oblivious to the argument still simmering around the table.
Mydei, meanwhile, was watching him. Not glancing, nor occasionally checking.
Watching.
Completely.
As if the entire room had faded away.
Castorice observed the way Mydei’s expression softened whenever Phainon laughed. The way Phainon leaned slightly closer when he spoke. The way their attention never once strayed from each other.
Even now, while a room full of important officials argued around them.
Castorice leaned back in her chair slowly.
Oh.
She watched them for another moment.
Phainon said something else, quiet enough that Castorice still could not hear, and Mydei huffed out a small laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
Phainon beamed.
Yes.
That seemed… rather obvious now.
Eventually the discussion at the table began to quiet, arguments dissolving into tired murmurs as servants started clearing dishes.
Dinner, it seemed, was finally ending.
Chairs scraped softly against the floor as people began standing.
Castorice rose as well.
Anaxa glanced toward her. “Leaving already?”
“I believe so,” Castorice replied calmly.
“Where to?”
Castorice smoothed a wrinkle from her sleeve.
“The library,” she said. “I wish to do some research.”
Anaxa raised an eyebrow but did not question it.
Castorice turned slightly as she prepared to leave, and her gaze drifted one last time toward Phainon and Mydei.
They were still talking quietly.
Still smiling.
Still entirely focused on each other.
Castorice paused.
Hm.
She turned toward the exit again.
“It’s probably nothing,” she murmured to herself.
A small pause.
“…Probably.”
. . .
3.
“Your footwork is sloppy,” Krateros snapped, rubbing his temples. “Pick up the pace!”
He sighed as Phainon missed yet another hit.
You see, he was supposed to be training just Prince Mydeimos. Key word: supposed. It seemed the boy couldn’t go anywhere without his white-haired companion right behind him.
Which is how he found himself here, watching these two imbeciles spar, if it could even be called sparring at all.
It felt like watching two children play-fight, more than anything. Sir Phainon was actively trying not to hit the other, while Prince Mydeimos was… wait, why had he stopped?
He seemed to be looking at something with a dazed look on his face. Krateros followed his line of sight, only to find him staring directly at a certain someone.
Oh, for the love of Nikador—
“Prince Mydeimos!” Krateros barked. “Stop staring at Sir Phainon and move!”
Titans, these two were a mess. It was a wonder how they got anything done.
At some point, Phainon had leaned into Mydei’s personal space, whispering something unintelligible. Did he even want to know what it was? Probably not. Whatever it was, it had Mydei flinching backward like he’d been burned, his face flushing red.
“Do not say such things, Deliverer,” the prince hissed, scandalized.
“What?” Phainon smirked mischievously, stepping closer. “It’s not my fault you look so damn—”
“Ahem,” Krateros interjected, arms crossed. “Did I say you two could stop?”
Instantly, they went back to sparring.
“Sorry, sir,” they said in unison.
Krateros sighed, leaning back in his chair, a faint ache forming in his back. Wow, was he getting old. Meanwhile, the main sources of his accelerated aging battled a few feet away.
Speaking of aging, when had Prince Mydeimos gone and grown up? Yes, he was technically decades old, being a Chrysos Heir and all, but Krateros still saw him as a child. (Though he would rather be struck down by Nikador’s Lance than admit it aloud.)
Prince Mydeimos looked especially young whenever his eyes lit up seeing something new, or whenever the children came to play with his hair.
Or when he was with Sir Phainon.
Krateros was not a fool. He knew the two’s relationship was… more than friendly.
And honestly? He didn’t care. His only criteria were that Mydei found someone capable and worthy, and Sir Phainon seemed… sufficient. Most of the time.
Then came the sound of steel meeting flesh. Krateros snapped his head up.
There stood Phainon, panting, eyes wide.
But that wasn’t the problem.
Directly in front of him was Prince Mydeimos, a sword lodged clean through his upper chest, right where his heart was.
Krateros smiled faintly. Finally, they were making progress. At least, until Phainon ran up to support Mydei mid-collapse.
Krateros groaned. One step forward, five steps back.
“No,” Phainon whispered, tearing off a piece of his coat to staunch the bleeding. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Deliverer,” Mydei whispered back, “it is fine. I will come back.”
Phainon frowned. “But—”
“He is right,” Krateros cut in. “You are well aware of Prince Mydeimos’ regenerative capabilities.”
Phainon’s hand stayed on Mydei’s. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Mydei squeezed back. “Don’t be…”
The light faded from his eyes.
Phainon shut them gently and squeezed Mydei’s hand so hard his knuckles turned white.
Krateros hesitated.
“…Sir Phainon,” he said slowly, “you are overreacting. Prince Mydeimos has fallen countless times in battle and still lives.”
“But he shouldn’t have to!”
Krateros’ eyebrows shot up, only to be furrowed a moment later. “You are aware that we Kremnoans honor dying in battle, yes? How is this any different?”
Silence.
After a moment, Phainon whispered, voice thick, “It hurts him, you know.”
Krateros blinked.
Phainon laughed, though more pained than amused. “He tries to hide it, but I know. I’ve seen the way he clutches his chest, or favors one arm over the other. I’ve told him so many times to rest, see a doctor—anything. But you know how stubborn he is.”
A weak cough broke the silence.
Mydei drew a slow breath and cracked one eye open. He looked at Krateros, then Phainon, and sighed.
“Did something happen?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Phainon shared a look with Krateros and shook his head. “No. Don’t worry.” He tried a smile. Grimace. Something in between.
Krateros folded his arms and studied them.
Their relationship was impractical. Distracting, at best.
And yet…
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps it is not worth forcing them to continue today.
“Very well,” he said loudly, voice carrying across the training grounds. “That is enough.”
Both Phainon and Mydei froze, uncertainty flickering across their faces.
Krateros stepped forward, gaze sharp. “You two are dismissed for the day. Rest. Recuperate. And… try to act like competent warriors when we next meet.”
Phainon’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yes,” Krateros said flatly. “Do not push yourselves further. That is an order.”
Mydei blinked. “You are… serious?”
Krateros’ lips twitched, an almost imperceptible hint of amusement. “Entirely. I have better things to do than watch you flirt while sparring.”
Phainon’s mouth opened as if to argue, then closed, deciding against it.
Mydei, for his part, merely nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips.
Krateros turned away, sighing under his breath.
These two are a walking disaster.
Phainon helped Mydei to his feet despite the prince insisting he was perfectly capable of standing on his own.
And with that, the two chaotic forces of Okhema and Castrum Kremnos departed the training grounds: grinning, bickering, and still very much alive.
Krateros rubbed his temples again, already preparing for tomorrow.
“I suppose… a day off will have to suffice.”
. . .
4.
(“Heya, Aggy,” Tribbie chirped, rocking back and forth on her heels, “could you help me out with something?”
The Demigod of Love looked up from the bracelet she had been carefully weaving, a small smile already forming on her face. She crossed her arms loosely.
“Of course,” Aglaea said warmly. “With what?”
Tribbie clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward conspiratorially.
“Could you make me a detective hat?”
Aglaea blinked.
“…A detective hat?”
Tribbie nodded enthusiastically, as if this were the most reasonable request in the world.
“Yep! Like the ones real investigators wear.”
Aglaea studied her for a moment, clearly deciding whether or not to ask questions.
In the end, she simply sighed, though the fond smile never left her face.
“…Alright, then,” she said. “It should be completed by Lucid Hour tomorrow.”
Tribbie pumped her fist into the air.
“Sweet! Thanks, Aggy!”)
…
Tribbie crouched behind a stack of wooden crates.
Technically, she wasn’t hiding.
She was conducting an investigation.
There was a big difference.
From her perfectly reasonable observation point behind the crates, she had an excellent view of the training grounds entrance. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the stone, and a few soldiers passed by every now and then, though none seemed to notice the tiny investigator lurking nearby.
Tribbie narrowed her eyes.
Ahead of her stood Phainon and Mydei.
They seemed to be arguing. Or maybe negotiating. Or maybe just talking very intensely.
It was hard to tell with those two.
Neither of them looked particularly upset, though. Phainon looked amused, if anything, while Mydei’s expression had that familiar tight-lipped look he always got when he was pretending not to be flustered.
Tribbie squinted harder.
Very suspicious.
She flipped open her notebook.
The Amazing Detective Tribbie’s Investigation Notes
Case Title: The Suspicious Relationship Between Snowy and Dei
Lead Investigator: The Amazing Detective Tribbie (Obviously)
Investigation Day #1
Location: Training Grounds
Observation #1: They stand very close together when talking.
Conclusion: Highly suspicious. Possibly a secret alliance.
Tribbie glanced up from the page just in time to see Phainon lean closer to Mydei.
Not a normal amount closer.
A significant amount closer.
He lowered his voice, clearly whispering something.
Tribbie leaned forward, straining to hear, but all she caught was the faint murmur of the word “beautiful.”
Whatever he said, though, had an immediate effect.
Mydei’s ears turned bright red.
Bright. Red.
Phainon leaned back again, looking extremely pleased with himself.
Very, very suspicious.
Tribbie scribbled furiously.
Observation#2: Prince Mydei turns red whenever Lord Phainon whispers to him. Has happened too many times to count.
Possible explanations:
1. Embarrassment
2. Anger
3. Poison exposure
4. Romantic feelings (slightly unlikely, but must consider)
Tribbie tapped the end of her pencil thoughtfully.
Romantic feelings definitely seemed like a stretch. After all, she had seen those two fight plenty of times, and it usually ended with someone getting punched.
Right on cue, Mydei lightly punched Phainon in the stomach.
Tribbie snorted.
Yeah.
Definitely unlikely.
Still… she underlined option number four. Just in case.
…
Investigation Day #2
Location: Market Stalls
Current Hypothesis: Snowy and Dei may be part of a top-secret organization, or plotting something highly suspicious. Possibly both.
Tribbie weaved through the busy marketplace, ducking between merchants and customers as she searched for two very specific people.
The market was packed today. Vendors shouted over one another, trying to sell everything from jewelry to fruit to ancient relics dug up from who-knew-where. The air smelled like spices and warm bread.
Tribbie stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd.
She knew exactly what to look for: Mydei’s vibrant red tattoos and Phainon’s very noticeable white coat.
Let’s see…
Clothing stall? Nope.
Food vendor? No again.
Ancient relics—
Oh!
There they were.
Tribbie quickly ducked behind a nearby stand selling pottery.
Across the street, the duo had moved slowly through the crowd.
Mydei held onto Phainon’s arm as the white-haired man guided him through the market, a peaceful, content look resting on his face.
Tribbie raised an eyebrow.
Interesting.
She quickly fished her pencil out of her pocket.
Observation #3: Dei likes to hold Snowy’s arm.
Conclusion: Snowy has very nice arms. Possibly dangerous.
The two eventually stopped at a jewelry stall.
Phainon leaned over the table, squinting at the gems with the concentration of a surgeon preparing for a very delicate operation.
After a moment, he picked up a pair of ruby earrings.
He held them up to Mydei’s ears, tilting his head slightly as he studied him.
“Hmm,” Phainon murmured.
Mydei frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Hold still,” Phainon said absently.
He stepped closer, lifting the earrings again as if trying to picture how they would look.
His eyes flicked between the rubies and Mydei’s face, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
“…No,” he finally decided. “Wrong color.”
Mydei stared at him.
“I was not planning on wearing them in the first place.”
Phainon ignored him completely.
Instead, he reached up and gently pushed a few loose strands of Mydei’s hair behind his ear.
“There,” he said thoughtfully.
Mydei froze.
Phainon leaned even closer, his attention now fully absorbed by the display.
Without seeming to realize it, he began idly spinning the end of Mydei’s braid between his fingers.
“These might suit you better,” he murmured, picking up another pair of earrings.
Mydei had gone completely still.
“Deliverer,” he said stiffly, “why are you touching my hair?”
Phainon blinked down at the braid in his hand like he had just remembered it existed.
“Oh,” he said casually.
Then he smiled.
“I like it.”
Mydei’s face turned a truly impressive shade of red.
Tribbie, still hiding behind the neighboring stall, nearly dropped her hat.
Observation #4: Snowy likes to play with Dei’s hair.
Conclusion: Romantic feelings may not be a stretch after all.
Tribbie slowly lowered her notebook.
Things were getting interesting.
Very interesting.
…
Investigation Day #3
Location: Suspicious Alleyway
Current Hypothesis: The red on Dei’s face may be blush. Snowy may, in fact, have a crush. Further investigation required.
Tribbie crouched behind a trash can.
Not the most glamorous hiding spot, but sacrifices had to be made in the name of investigative journalism.
She had originally been walking home after spending the afternoon with Cas.
Then she heard a very familiar word.
“Deliverer.”
Which was how she ended up here.
The alleyway was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of lanterns from the nearby street.
Phainon and Mydei stood close together.
Very close together.
Closer than what could reasonably be described as “friendly.”
Mydei leaned against the wall, his back pressed to the stone.
Phainon stood directly in front of him.
One of Phainon’s hands rested on Mydei’s hip, steadying him as if he might topple over.
Tribbie stared.
Then she looked down and scribbled furiously.
Just in case anyone finds this: I PROMISE this was an accident!! Do NOT tell anyone I was here. Especially Snowy or Dei. Thank you.
A soft whisper reached her ears.
“Deliverer,” Mydei breathed.
“Yes, my prince,” Phainon replied quietly.
Tribbie slowly lifted her head.
Phainon reached up, one hand gently cupping Mydei’s cheek.
Then he leaned in, and—
Tribbie whipped around so fast she nearly saw stars.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
She was definitely not supposed to witness that.
As quietly as possible, Tribbie scrambled out of the alleyway and bolted down the street.
Once she was safely out of sight, she ran all the way home, nearly tripping over herself in the process.
She burst into her room and slammed her notebook onto her desk, scribbling furiously across the page.
END OF INVESTIGATION
Conclusion: Snowy and Dei are definitely in love, and I am definitely scarred for life.
Tribbie snapped the notebook shut and planted her hands firmly on her hips.
“Case closed,” she declared proudly.
“…”
She paused.
Then slowly reopened the notebook.
Note: Never investigate alleyways again. It will probably end up with more consequences than benefits.
Probably.
Maybe.
Further research required.
. . .
5.
Aglaea was not a fool.
Between her being the Demigod of Love herself, and her long familiarity with the personalities of her fellow Chrysos Heirs, it was—if she was being completely honest—painfully obvious what the nature of Mydei and Phainon’s relationship truly was.
It had been obvious for quite some time, in fact.
From the shared glances that lingered just a little too long, to the quiet smiles exchanged when they thought no one else was looking, to the almost ridiculous amount of touching that occurred whenever the two of them occupied the same room… the signs were hardly subtle.
Phainon’s hand resting briefly at the small of Mydei’s back as he guided him around crowded hallways.
Mydei instinctively reaching for Phainon’s arm whenever the man stepped too far away.
The way their conversations seemed to shrink the world around them, leaving everyone else as little more than background noise.
Honestly, if they had tried any harder to advertise their affection, they might as well have started announcing it during council meetings.
And yet, it seemed that her sentiment was not shared by everyone.
Aglaea suspected that some of the more observant Chrysos Heirs, such as Hyacine, and those who had known either of the two for a considerable amount of time, like Sir Krateros, were more than aware of what was going on.
Hyacine’s frequent eye-rolls whenever the pair wandered into the same room were evidence enough of that.
Krateros, meanwhile, simply looked tired.
Aglaea was also fairly certain that Lady Cifera knew exactly what was happening as well, if her snickering and knowing smirks whenever the two lovebirds were within eyesight were anything to go by.
But others…
Others were perhaps a bit slower to reach the same conclusion.
Some of the Chrysos Heirs were brilliant strategists. Others were powerful warriors, or scholars with minds sharp enough to unravel the mysteries of the Titans themselves.
But when it came to matters of the heart?
Well…
Aglaea would not exactly call them experts.
She glanced across the table.
Directly in the seat opposite her, Anaxagoras was currently staring holes into Mydei’s back.
The prince in question seemed blissfully unaware, as he stood several paces away speaking animatedly with his sun-eyed counterpart. Phainon leaned in slightly as he listened, his expression soft with amusement.
Anaxagoras cleared his throat.
“Those two seem quite… close.”
Aglaea sighed and rubbed her temples.
She would very much prefer not to engage in conversation with this man today. It was already bad enough that Lady Hyacine and Miss Castorice had somehow coerced her into playing yet another game of chess with him in what they had called a “constructive attempt at bonding.”
Aglaea personally suspected it was simply an excuse to watch the two of them argue.
“Indeed,” she said flatly.
Anaxa leaned forward slightly, his attention already drifting back to the board.
“So,” he said casually, “are you planning to make a move, or have you already accepted defeat?”
Aglaea looked down.
Somehow, in the brief moment she had been distracted, he had already moved one of his pieces, leaving her completely cornered.
She stared at the board in silence.
Then she sighed.
This would be the third time she lost today.
She looked back up at him slowly, her expression sharpening into a glare.
“Do not test your luck, Anaxagoras.”
He smirked, clearly pleased with himself.
“I don’t know,” he replied lightly. “My luck seems to be working quite well today.”
A vein pulsed faintly in Aglaea’s temple.
Titans above, this man was insufferable.
She inhaled slowly, schooling her expression into something resembling composure before moving one of her bishops across the board.
The move was entirely intentional.
And it left her king wide open.
Anaxa’s grin widened instantly.
“Checkmate.”
Aglaea rolled her eyes.
Whatever.
There were far more pressing matters in the world than losing a few meaningless games of chess.
A particularly loud laugh suddenly echoed from across the hall.
Aglaea’s attention shifted.
Mydei had thrown his head back slightly as he laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. Beside him, Phainon watched with a fond expression that bordered dangerously close to adoration.
Interesting.
Aglaea leaned back slightly in her chair, observing the pair.
Mydei always carried himself with a certain rigidity when speaking to others. His posture was straight, his shoulders squared, his expression carefully controlled.
But when Phainon leaned closer to murmur something in his ear, that tension melted almost instantly.
His shoulders relaxed.
The stern line of his mouth softened.
And Phainon…
Phainon looked at him the way people only ever looked at one person in their entire lives.
Aglaea knew that look well.
It was unmistakable.
After a moment, Phainon reached out and took Mydei’s hand, gently tugging him away from the conversation. The latter didn’t even protest.
The two disappeared down the hallway together.
Aglaea hummed quietly to herself.
There was a meeting scheduled with the Chrysos Heirs soon.
But for now…
She would let them have their moment.
A smile tugged faintly at the corner of her lips.
“What are you smiling at?”
Aglaea looked up.
Anaxagoras was watching her now, his expression unreadable.
She raised an eyebrow.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” he said lazily. “Just your less-than-pleasant visage.”
Aglaea saw red.
…
By the time the meeting approached, Aglaea had already regained most of her composure.
She made her way down the corridor toward Mydei’s quarters, lifting a hand to knock on the door.
There was a brief pause.
Then the door creaked open slightly.
A familiar head of white hair appeared in the gap.
Aglaea sighed.
“Phainon.”
The Deliverer blinked in surprise before offering a sheepish smile.
“Ah, Lady Aglaea. How nice of you to stop by.”
He raised a hand to run it through his hair.
It was dripping wet.
“We were just getting ready for the meeting,” he added quickly.
Aglaea’s gaze narrowed.
Her eyes slowly traveled over his appearance. His shoulders were bare, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. Water droplets traced slow paths down his collarbone, disappearing beneath the partially closed door.
His lips looked suspiciously red and swollen.
And the faint bruise blooming near the curve of his neck was something she very deliberately chose not to acknowledge.
After a moment of silence, she spoke.
“…I assume Prince Mydeimos is with you?”
Phainon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“He—well, we were, uh… showering.”
Ah.
That explained quite a bit.
Aglaea cleared her throat delicately.
“As much as I hate to interrupt,” she said calmly, “please ensure that both of you are ready and presentable within the next ten minutes.”
Phainon nodded quickly.
“Of course. Thank you, Lady Aglaea.”
With that, he gently shut the door.
Aglaea stood there for a moment.
Then she turned and began walking back down the hallway.
A faint smile returned to her lips.
The others would figure it out eventually.
Love, after all, was rarely quiet for long.
. . .
+ 1.
“They’re doing it again.”
Cipher groaned as she followed Hyacine’s line of sight, already aware of what she was talking about.
There, just a few feet away, was the chaotic duo that had been the talk of the Chrysos Heirs for quite a while now.
Phainon was currently seated on one of the plush red-orange seats of the bathhouse, fiddling with Mydei’s hair in a sad attempt to tie it into some sort of hairstyle.
Mydei, meanwhile, sat in the water below, his shoulders level with Phainon’s knees and his hair gently brushing his stomach.
The other Chrysos Heirs sat scattered around the crystalline blue water.
Tribbie and Aglaea were engaged in hushed conversation, the former absentmindedly coloring something with a crayon, while Castorice was nose deep into a book.
Cipher sipped at her cocktail with a huff.
“Seriously?” she asked incredulously. “They’re cute and all, but it gets to a point.”
Anaxa frowned, glancing at the pair.
“Cute?”
“I don’t know if cute is the right word,” Hyacine said with a snort. “I would say more… obnoxious.”
Across the water, Phainon made a thoughtful noise and gathered another handful of Mydei’s hair.
“No, no, stay still,” he murmured.
“I am still,” Mydei protested, though he leaned back slightly into the other man’s touch all the same.
Phainon squinted at the hair tie between his fingers as if it were a particularly complicated weapon.
“Hm. Almost done.”
Mydei tilted his head just enough to look up at him.
“You said that five minutes ago.”
“Yes, well,” Phainon replied calmly, “great work takes time.”
Cipher and Anaxa stared.
Hyacine slowly pinched the bridge of her nose.
“See?” Hyacine said flatly. “Obnoxious.”
“I fail to see the issue,” Anaxa said, folding his arms.
Cipher turned to him slowly.
“You fail to see the issue,” she repeated.
“They appear to simply be conversing.”
Cipher blinked.
Then she blinked again.
“Geez,” Cipher muttered, “I knew you were hard-headed but I didn’t know it was this bad.”
Hyacine made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh.
Anaxa frowned harder.
“Wow, thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I appreciate your claim that I lack observational skills.”
“Observational skills?” Cipher repeated. “Anaxa, he’s literally braiding his hair.”
“It’s Anaxagoras,” he muttered.
She groaned and gestured to the two dramatically for emphasis.
Across the bathhouse, Phainon pulled the hair tie tight with a triumphant little hum.
“There,” he said.
Mydei reached up to touch it.
“…Is it crooked?”
“Only slightly.”
“Phainon.”
“Yes?”
“If I walk out of here looking ridiculous—”
“You always look ridiculous.”
Mydei splashed water at him.
Phainon laughed.
Cipher stared a moment longer.
Then she sighed.
“Nope. That’s it. I’m ending this.”
Hyacine’s head snapped toward her.
“Ending what?”
“This,” Cipher said, gesturing broadly toward the two men, who were now arguing about whether the braid was “structurally sound,” followed by Phainon’s declaration that he’ll redo it and Mydei’s annoyed yet fond sigh.
Hyacine widened her eyes as Cipher stood up, discarding her drink on a nearby table.
“Wait, don’t—”
The rest of her sentence faded as Cipher walked out of earshot, and instead toward Mydei and Phainon.
Hyacine groaned.
“Oh no.”
Anaxa leaned forward slightly, interest flickering across his face.
“Fascinating.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
“Too late.”
Cipher stopped directly in front of the pair.
Neither of them noticed.
Phainon was currently trying to fix a loose strand.
“I told you, hold still,” he said again.
“I am still.”
“You moved.”
“I breathed.”
Cipher cleared her throat.
Both men looked up.
Mydei blinked. “Lady Cifera,” he greeted with a nod.
Phainon smiled pleasantly.
“Good evening.”
Cipher crossed her arms.
“I have a very, very important question.”
Phainon eyed her curiously.
“What is it?” Mydei asked, leaning in slightly.
They waited.
Cipher glanced between them, then briefly over her shoulder toward the rest of the bathhouse.
Several pairs of eyes watched back.
Cipher sighed.
Unbelievable.
She turned back to the two men.
Then she said, very plainly,
“What—What is this?” She gestured to them with a flick of her wrist, her voice dripping in exasperation. “This thing you’re doing? It’s becoming tiring. For all of us.”
The bathhouse went silent.
Even the faint trickle of water from one of the fountains suddenly seemed too loud.
Phainon cleared his throat softly, clearly afraid to face Cipher’s wrath.
He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
“And you’re referring to…?”
There was a brief pause.
Then Cipher exploded,
“Are you joking?!” She yelled. “I’m referring to this whole more-than-friends thing you have going on!”
“I mean, are you two even together? She continued, “or are you guys too hardheaded to realize that you obviously have feelings for each other.”
Mydei tilted his head slightly, clearly embarrassed.
“I—We… Uh—”
Phainon nodded.
“Yes. We’re dating.”
He smiled impishly.
Chaos erupted.
Across the bathhouse, an excited yell rang out.
“Hah! I knew it!” Tribbie exclaimed, pointing a finger at the two animatedly.
Castorice, who was sitting a few feet away, hid her knowing smile behind her book.
Aglaea, meanwhile, was watching the whole exchange in amusement.
Hyacine groaned and dropped her face into her hands.
“Titans help us.”
Anaxa blinked once.
Then twice.
“…Huh,” he said slowly.
Cipher was still fuming
For a long moment she simply stared at them.
Then she pointed at Phainon.
“You.”
Then at Mydei.
“You.”
Then back at Phainon.
“So you’re just now admitting that.”
Phainon tilted his head slightly.
“Yes.”
Mydei immediately covered his face with both hands.
Across the bathhouse, Tribbie nearly fell off her seat.
“I totally called it!” she shouted triumphantly, leaping to her feet and waving her notebook in the air like a battle flag. “I have documentation!”
She flipped the notebook open and began frantically flipping pages.
“Lady Tribios,” Hyacine said weakly.
Tribbie gasped dramatically.
“My investigation was correct!”
Mydei groaned.
“Please stop talking.”
Cipher slowly dragged a hand down her face.
“So you’re telling me,” she said, voice dangerously calm, “that all this time…”
She gestured violently toward them.
“…all this time you two were actually dating.”
Phainon smiled.
“Yes.”
Mydei looked like he was about to dissolve into steam.
“Phainon,” he muttered through his hands, “you didn’t have to say it like that.”
“What way would you have preferred?” Phainon asked mildly.
“Not in front of everyone.”
Phainon glanced around the bathhouse.
Only now did he seem to notice the audience.
Hyacine had collapsed forward with her forehead on the table.
Cipher was pacing.
Tribbie was still shouting something about “evidence.”
Aglaea was watching with the faintest, most knowing smile.
Castorice had lowered her book slightly, though the amused curve of her mouth suggested she had been listening the entire time.
And Anaxa—
Anaxa was staring at them like a mathematician who had just solved an equation.
“…Ah,” he said.
Everyone paused.
“…Ah?” Cipher repeated.
Anaxa nodded thoughtfully.
“That explains the abnormality in your behavioral patterns.”
Cipher stared at him.
“Anaxa.”
“Yes.”
“You are the only person here who somehow made this less romantic.”
“Oh.”
Hyacine groaned loudly.
Meanwhile, Mydei had slid another inch into the water.
His face was still burning.
“This is humiliating.”
Phainon leaned forward slightly from his seat above him, resting his arms casually on his knees.
“I don’t see why.”
“Because everyone is staring.”
Phainon glanced around.
They were.
All of them.
He looked back at Mydei and smiled softly.
“Well,” he said lightly, “now they know.”
Mydei groaned again and dropped his face into his hands.
Across the bathhouse, Tribbie slammed her notebook shut dramatically.
“I’m a genius!” she declared.
Aglaea chuckled quietly into her teacup.
Hyacine muttered something about never inviting them anywhere again.
Cipher pointed a finger at the two of them.
“Next time,” she said flatly, “keep your romantic nonsense out of shared bathhouses.”
Phainon considered that.
“…No promises.”
Mydei splashed water at him.
Phainon leaned back just enough to avoid the worst of it, though droplets still caught on his sleeves.
“Wow” he said mildly. “Rude.”
“You deserved that,” Mydei muttered.
“You are the one who splashed me.”
“You exposed our relationship to the entire room.”
Phainon hummed thoughtfully.
“They asked.”
Mydei stared at him.
Across the bathhouse, Tribbie made a strangled sound of delight.
“Oh this is incredible,” she whispered loudly.
Castorice finally lowered her book completely now, the corner of her mouth lifting.
“I must admit,” she said calmly, “the confirmation is satisfying.”
Mydei groaned.
“Please stop talking about it like it’s a research project.”
Tribbie gasped.
“But it is!”
She flipped her notebook open again and scribbled furiously.
“New observation!” she announced. “Subject A retaliates with water-based aggression when emotionally overwhelmed!”
“That’s not what happened,” Mydei protested weakly.
“Noted: denial.”
“Stop writing!”
Meanwhile, Cipher had resumed pacing along the edge of the bathhouse.
“This cannot be real,” she muttered. “We’ve been sitting here watching this nonsense for months.”
Hyacine lifted her head from the table just enough to speak.
“I told you they were unbearable.”
“You defended them last week.”
“That was before I knew they were doing it on purpose.”
“They were not doing it on purpose,” Anaxa said.
Everyone looked at him.
He had his arms folded again, studying Phainon and Mydei with intense focus.
“This level of obliviousness would be extremely difficult to fabricate.”
Cipher stared.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“They’re dating, Anaxa. Not performing an experiment.”
Anaxa frowned slightly.
“I fail to see the distinction.”
Across the water, Aglaea laughed softly.
The sound was light, amused, and entirely too pleased with the situation.
“Oh, let them be,” she said, resting her chin on her hand. “It’s rather charming.”
“Charming?” Cipher repeated.
“Yes.”
Cipher gestured wildly at Phainon, who was now retying the braid Mydei had partially ruined with the splash.
“He’s still braiding his hair!”
“And?” Aglaea said.
“And?!”
Aglaea took another calm sip of tea.
“They’re in love.”
The bathhouse went quiet again.
Mydei froze.
Phainon paused mid-braid.
Tribbie slowly lifted her head.
“Wait,” she whispered dramatically.
Mydei turned bright red.
“We are not discussing that.”
Phainon blinked.
“I thought we already were.”
Mydei dropped his face back into his hands.
“Phainon.”
“Yes?”
“You’re making this worse.”
“I don’t see how.”
“You’re encouraging them.”
Phainon looked around again.
Tribbie was vibrating with excitement.
Cipher still looked like she might throw someone into the water.
Hyacine had resumed hiding her face.
Anaxa was staring with academic fascination.
Castorice was watching quietly.
Aglaea looked delighted.
Phainon considered this.
Then he finished tying the braid and patted Mydei’s head once.
“There,” he said.
Mydei blinked.
“…You’re done?”
“Yes.”
Mydei reached back to feel it.
It was, admittedly, a much better braid than the previous attempt.
“…It’s not crooked.”
“I told you I would fix it.”
Mydei looked suspicious.
“…Why are you being nice.”
Phainon smiled.
“I’m always nice.”
Cipher made a loud choking sound.
“Absolutely not.”
Tribbie pointed dramatically.
“More evidence!”
Hyacine sighed.
But Tribbie was unstoppable now.
“I am witnessing peak romance,” she declared.
“This is not romance,” Mydei said immediately.
“He braided your hair.”
“…Yes.”
Tribbie slammed her notebook shut again.
“I rest my case.”
Mydei slowly sank deeper into the water.
“This is the worst day of my life.”
Phainon tilted his head.
“That seems dramatic.”
“Everyone is analyzing our relationship.”
“That is true.”
“And you’re not helping.”
Phainon thought about that.
Then he leaned down slightly from the edge of the bathhouse seat and rested his chin casually on the top of Mydei’s head.
Across the bathhouse, everyone watched.
“Phainon,” he said dangerously.
“Yes?”
“…Remove your head.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone is staring.”
Phainon glanced around again.
Everyone was still staring.
He shrugged.
“They were already staring.”
Mydei stared at him for a long moment.
Then he sighed the deep, exhausted sigh of a man who had accepted his fate.
“…Fine.”
Tribbie gasped again.
Cipher pointed furiously.
“See?! This is exactly what I was talking about!”
Phainon smiled pleasantly.
Cipher opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Then finally groaned loudly and dropped back into her seat.
“I regret asking.”
Across the bathhouse, the chatter slowly returned.
Tribbie resumed scribbling.
Hyacine muttered about never recovering from this.
Anaxa appeared deep in thought.
Aglaea looked thoroughly entertained.
Castorice picked her book back up, though she didn’t immediately return to reading.
And at the edge of the pool, Phainon sat comfortably above the water while Mydei leaned against the bath’s edge below him, braid newly tied and face still faintly red.
The chaos gradually settled into something quieter.
Eventually, Mydei glanced up.
“…Next time,” he said quietly, “we’re not bathing with them.”
Phainon hummed.
“That might be difficult.”
“Why?”
Phainon gestured vaguely toward the others.
“They will simply follow us.”
Mydei considered that.
Then sighed.
“…You’re probably right.”
Phainon smiled.
And somewhere across the bathhouse, Tribbie shouted,
“Observation #32!”
Mydei closed his eyes.
“Nikador help me.”