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An overwhelming weight crushes his lungs. His body is dragged, thrown, pulled in all directions. Nothing but oppressive darkness surrounds him, no sign of his assailant no matter where he whips his head. Blindly he thrashes his legs and his hands flex, trying to grasp and gain some semblance of a sense of space, but to no avail. As strong as his well-trained legs and arms are, the pressure is too great, and there is nothing to hold on to. Still, he continues to fight, even as his hands begin to stiffen, fingers quivering in the biting cold he fights so fiercely against. In all his struggle as his body begins to weaken, he realises something crucial he’s neglected in all his panic.
Breathe. He needs to breathe.
Bubbles of the little air he had left in his lungs erupt from his mouth as he heaves. A gargled gasp follows, trying to reclaim what he so desperately needs, but his lungs only become heavier as water floods them.
He’s going to drown. Again.
No. He won’t just let that happen.
He renews his fight, first holding the little air he managed to get from swallowing so much water. His body calms, allowing the currents to carry him wherever they please. As much as it stings, his eyes open wide, focusing and adjusting in the darkness, searching as he’s tossed about for any signs of formations, of other beings, or find a glimpse of light piercing through the surface to guide him back up.
What feels like eternity passes as he endures the suffocating torment. His body no longer feels like the powerful weapon grown from years of battle and hardship. It’s… thin. Scrawny. Small. Little legs curl up so his knees touch his chest, and tiny arms wrap around them, as if that would warm him in this unforgiving cold. The last of his held breath releases, and he just about sees and feels the bubbles as they go… Up. They’ve gone up, past his right elbow. The desperate child fights the current threatening to disorient him yet again, chasing the memory of where he must go, legs kicking, arms flailing, pulling himself up and up, even as waves push him away and the pressure tries to drag him back down again.
Finally, he sees a light. His hands reach out, as if he could grasp it and be saved. Maybe he could: the further out he reaches, the higher he swims, the more a comforting warmth tingles his cold fingertips. But as he tries and tries, his light weight is pulled back again. A soundless scream escapes his lips. His eyes scrunch shut, not wanting to watch as that light disappears. Tears break free, vanishing as they mingle and become one with the saltwater, just as he soon will. He’s going to die again, cold and alone. His body shivers and his once erratic heart beats slower, slower still, until…
Mydei’s amber eyes snap open accompanied by a loud choked gasp, his body quivers, drenched in cold beads of sweat. The pounding of his racing heart thunders in his ears. And as dark as it is, it’s not the same. He’s no longer being swallowed by the unknown. Beneath him is the firmness of a sheeted bed, and covering him is a soft blanket, secured by another’s strong arm whose hand rests on his bare chest, his back pulled close to the man behind him. The heat of that body against his is enough to fight the after-effects of dreaming of that frigid, lonely place. One of his hands goes to grasp his pillow, the other finds the hand clutching over his chest beneath the covers, interlocking their fingers. He takes a quiet deep breath and regulates his breathing, and his heartbeat eases to a mostly even pace. But his heart is now quiet enough for him to hear the hitch of breath as much as he feels it against his nape, and his body is grounded enough that he feels the hand he holds start to twitch and tremble, and realises now that the body pressed against his isn’t just warm, but near scalding. Slowly he turns his head to look behind him. The other man’s eyes are scrunched, his face muscles taut in a wince. The usual fluffiness of his snowy hair is instead dampened by hot sweat. A quiet whine anyone else would miss is caught by Mydei’s trained ears.
The distressed appearance of his lover spurs Mydei into moving. Mydei gently lifts Phainon’s arm and rolls himself onto his back, waiting for his stiff joints to settle into the new position before pulling Phainon’s arm back over himself and laying his own hand back over the covers. He then gently snakes his other arm around Phainon’s shoulders and settles his hand in his hair, pulling his head slowly onto his chest, right above his heart. He lets his chest rise and fall in deep and slow breaths as his fingers untangle the sweat-dampened strands, brushing them away from his face, allowing him to cool under his touch. Phainon’s breathing eases and the tension in his body settles, but his eyes are still scrunched shut, and his jaw is clenched. Mydei’s brow furrows. As familiar as this sight is, it never gets easier to witness. He sighs quietly and combs his fingers through one more knot before tracing them across his cheek and jaw, applying just enough pressure to loosen the muscles before resting his palm over Phainon’s left eye. As brief in the grand scheme of things as it was, Mydei still recalls the state he was in as the Flame Reaver. Those cracks in his skin, the missing pieces of his body, they’re as ingrained in Mydei’s memory just as they are in Phainon’s. It didn’t take long for Mydei to find the best way to soothe those chronic pains from long-gone scars.
Phainon didn’t make it easy for him though.
The first time Mydei woke in reaction to one of Phainon’s nightmare-induced migraines, his first instinct wasn’t much different to now. He’d pulled him into an embrace while massaging his temple – only for Phainon to wake in a panic and push himself away from his hold. Mydei allowed him the space for a moment, but when Phainon refused to move to even lie back down or meet Mydei’s eyes, he rose himself, sitting up straight and alert, but still calm. He wasn’t going to let Phainon retreat into himself, but he wouldn’t force him to speak when he wasn’t ready either. So, to compromise, he reached out and placed his hand over his, merely present enough for Phainon to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t. Encouraged, Mydei rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. Phainon’s posture slackened and his eyes slowly lifted to meet Mydei’s, though they flickered as if they wanted to look away.
‘Sorry,’ he’d meekly said.
‘No need to apologise,’ Mydei had reassured him. ‘Do you want to talk?’
‘...Not really.’
Mydei hummed. ‘You don’t have to. But I can’t help as much as I’m capable if I don’t know what troubles you.’
Phainon looked away. The shame of upsetting his partner weighed just as heavily as the inner battle he tried so hard to hide from him. ‘Right.’ He winced and then huffed before guiding Mydei’s hand back to his head. ‘This was helping. I’m sorry I pushed you away.’
Mydei resumed massaging him, moving from his temple up across his scalp. Phainon sighed, content, though the stiffness of his jaw didn’t escape Mydei’s attention back then either. ‘Holding yourself back?’ Phainon stiffened again, but nodded. ‘Don’t. You can tell me anything.’
Phainon remained silent a while longer, but Mydei, ever patient, simply continued stroking through his hair, only changing to gently pull him back to lie on their sides again when Phainon’s eyes began to droop half-closed. He was nearly ready to allow him rest and bring up the topic again in the morning, but Phainon, guilt ridden as he was over the tenderness he was so easily given, opened up: ‘I don’t deserve this. You, everyone else, you’re always so… kind. Loving. Even forgiving me for all the pain I put you through.’ Every word was barely above a broken whisper, as if a part of himself still fought to keep the words from flowing out. ‘And here I am, daring to feel pain, too. But then, if I didn’t, that wouldn’t be fair.’ Those words dripped with bitterness.
‘Don’t downplay your own suffering,’ Mydei chided. ‘It wasn’t easy on anyone, least of all you. Even so, you endured for us all. And here we are now. No Black Tide. No Irontomb. And if it all had to happen again, I would entrust my weakness to you millions of times more.’ Mydei’s thumb wiped away a stray tear Phainon hadn’t even realised had begun to fall. ‘You bear no sin, so there is nothing to forgive.’
Phainon slowly relaxed further into Mydei’s hold.
‘I want to hear it from you.’
He hesitated, still finding it hard to accept, but obeyed. ‘I bear no sin.’
‘And?’
‘I shouldn’t hide how I feel…’
‘Mm. Can I hear one more thing?’
Phainon blanked, lost on what more Mydei needed him to know. ‘...I don’t think so. Sorry.’
Mydei’s chest rumbled with a small laugh. ‘Not to worry. Let me help you, then.’ He leaned over to plant a kiss on Phainon’s forehead. ‘You deserve to be loved. Repeat that for me?’
Tears fell once more, but Phainon clinged to him and obeyed. ‘I deserve to be loved.’
‘That’s it,’ Mydei sighed. ‘Now come closer and let me love you properly, yeah?’
From then on, whenever Phainon would wake in pain or distress, Mydei would follow soon and comfort him, be it through touch or repeating whatever much-needed affirmations Phainon needed at the time, whether they were reassurances of his deserving of love and life, or grounding him back in reality following a flashback or nightmare.
Mydei returns his focus to the man in his arms when Phainon nuzzles into Mydei’s hand, a soft breath tickling his skin. Mydei feels Phainon’s eye blink against his palm as he begins to wake from the hell his mind had been submerged in.
‘It’s okay, you’re okay,’ Mydei assures him. ‘I’ve got you now. You can go back to sleep.’
Phainon shakes his head as much as he can. ‘Not without you,’ he mumbles.
Mydei huffs out a laugh, removing his hand from Phainon’s eye to thumb over his cheek again. Phainon returns the gentle gesture, lifting his hand above Mydei’s shoulder to grab the hair behind his ear, curlier than the rest of his red-tipped golden mane from being tied into a braid so often. He pulls it over the shoulder carefully and brings the ends to his face, inhaling the pomegranate scent lingering from his hair wash. With a satisfied sigh, he plays with those crimson curls between his finger and thumb.
As much as Mydei wants to question him, he also wants Phainon to open up on his own. While he did so on that first night, not every night has gone quite so smoothly, requiring more coaxing from Mydei to release the tension he hides from everyone else. Phainon’s getting better at it, even if it’s difficult with that constant voice in the back of his mind, telling him he’s undeserving of such tenderness, that he’s a monster to have done what he did without breaking. But Phainon knows better than to listen to that self-hating part of himself, knows that to do so would mean to doubt his friends, to doubt his beloved equal. So, he continues to do his best to be kind to himself, to trust Mydei, and opens up.
‘You were cold…’ he whispers.
Mydei stiffens, then hums. This isn’t the first time Phainon has reacted to Mydei’s colder temperature, either. Those three words are enough to recall waking in a cold sweat to the Deliverer clinging to him like he’d slip away if he loosened his grip. When Mydei shifted and held Phainon that night, he shared a harsh truth for the first time: ‘I dreamed I was going through the cycles again. It… happens a lot,’ he’d confided in a quiet and small voice. ‘But this time, waking up like this, I-I really thought you were dead. That I killed you.’
And just like that night, Mydei holds him tighter, and tells him what he himself needs to hear just as much as Phainon does: ‘I’m okay. I’m alive. You’re here, with me.’
Phainon smiles against Mydei’s chest, then presses a light kiss to it. His hand moves away from his hair to his shoulder. He frowns when he finds a taut tension there, changing his gentle touch to a firmer one, squeezing and kneading away. Mydei groans in relief and whispers his thanks as Phainon finds every knot there, then at his neck, then sighs contentedly as Phainon’s hand settles over his chest by his own face, idly moving his fingers across the skin softly once more.
After a brief silence while they continued to caress each other, Mydei’s soft voice speaks up. ‘You feeling any better now?’
‘Better, but not great,’ Phainon admits. ‘Head feels like it’s split open.’ He laughs at the reference to his own past agony, regretting it immediately as he winces from the sound and movement. He nuzzles his head into Mydei’s hand again. ‘This still helps though. Thank you.’
Mydei smiles, and continues stroking his face.
‘Are you sure you’re okay, Mydei?’
He’s taken aback by the question. ‘Hm? Yeah, I’m alright… Why?’
Phainon hums. ‘You’re a bit warmer now, and not so stiff anymore. But you were so, so cold. Your heartbeat was– no, still is, weird, too. Its pace is fine now, but it’s… heavy? A-and I thought it was just in my nightmare, but it was like you nearly stopped breathing…’
‘Ah,’ Mydei sighs. ‘Sorry. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.’
Phainon raises his head, looking up at Mydei’s face, whose eyes won’t meet his. ‘Don’t you hide now,’ he pouts. ‘You can confide in me, too.’
Mydei looks at those sky-blue eyes. They’re still squinting slightly from the headache, but the determination in them to stay awake and alert and not let this go are clear as day. Mydei laughs fondly. Respecting his partner’s sincere and open heart, it's his turn to meet his gaze and tell him what he never has before: ‘I was lost in the Sea.’
Phainon’s eyes widen, and his hand clenches over Mydei’s chest. ‘A nightmare too, right?’
Mydei nods. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t go in my sleep just yet. I’m in perfect health.’
Phainon relaxes. ‘As perfect as mine.’
The two laugh grimly. Phainon’s grip softens, returning a hand to Mydei’s hair, twirling it between his fingers absently. ‘That’s why you felt cold all those other times too?’
Mydei’s mouth falls into a serious line. ‘Yes. I assure you I didn’t withhold it from you out of malice or distrust. I’m just… accustomed to those terrors.’
Phainon frowns at that. ‘You shouldn’t shoulder the burden alone.’
‘Hm.’ Mydei knows this well, given how often he parrots the exact sentiment to Phainon himself. That difficulty in allowing vulnerability is something they share. If the Prince of Castrum Kremnos can endure alone, then he will, as does the Deliverer. Yet they see through each other with such ease, and find the most comfort in each other when they manage to bring the truth of their struggles to light.
‘It’s not…’ Phainon gulps. ‘Is it because of me? Maybe– Maybe being in the arms of your executioner triggers them.’
Phainon tries to pull away, but Mydei maintains his hold on him. ‘Don’t be foolish, Phainon. That has quite the opposite effect. I will always gladly accept my fate when you are the one to deliver it.’ His face turns sour as he continues, ‘It’s especially over enduring countless drownings because of the madness my father suffered.’
His eyes widen at that, and his hands return to hold him all the tighter. ‘I see… Do you want to talk about it?’
Mydei only hesitates long enough to decide on how to explain. While thinking back on the nightmare was initially a daunting thought, he finds that the reality of the warmth around him makes it easier. ‘These nightmares always have me waking up feeling as cold and stiff as if I were really there. Probably what you noticed with my heartbeat and my breathing, too. In those dreams it’s like they’re about to stop, but they kick back into action the moment I wake. As random as their occurrences seemed to be in the past, I think something triggers them every time. Again, not you. Sometimes it’s after a peaceful period, as though the flashbacks serve as a reminder there’s always going to be a fight that will find its way to me. As wonderful as life is now, I can’t help but anticipate inevitable strife… and I can’t help feeling that allowing such thoughts in, even when deep in sleep, is a betrayal of the peace you won us.’
‘Oh, Mydei, no…’
He sighs. ‘I know it’s not. At least this peace, here with you, allows me to wake up from that hell safely.’ Mydei’s free hand clenches the covers, while the one in Phainon’s hair stills and loosens its hold. ‘They happen before big things, too. I had them often when I returned to Castrum Kremnos. The ever-present threat of battle, of death, and the need to survive and win again and again… It was like growing up in the Sea.’
Phainon tries to respond with a hum, but even that small sound has his voice break.
Sensing Phainon’s upset, Mydei speaks again. ‘But you know, there was one key difference between them. As a child, I fought with a blind determination to survive and escape death’s clutches, even with no concept of what would await me when I got out. It would have been so easy to succumb, not knowing what the point of living even was… But I’m glad I kept fighting. It’s different now because I got to meet all of you, and as alone as I was fighting in Kremnos, the knowledge that you all were still fighting too strengthened my resolve. You were a tether to find my way back from the Sea of Souls when those nightmares became reality again, a promise of something to come back to someday when I’d wake up. Still are. I suppose to a lesser extent it’s like how you made sure to remember your reason for enduring the cycles.’
Phainon shakes his head. ‘There’s nothing lesser about what you went through, Mydei.’
‘Still, even I am unsure if I could have endured were our roles reversed.’
‘Me either, honestly,’ Phainon admits. ‘I suppose the hells we know are easier to face, though.’
Mydei hums in agreement. ‘That’s probably why these nightmares became so normal to me. I suppose the cold being so entwined with my life and deaths in my formative years made them just as expected as the dread of an important meeting now. Unpleasant, but something inevitable that I must, and can, get through.’
Phainon snorts at the comparison, a deep belly laugh rolling out of him. ‘You do make arguing politics sound like it’s worse than death to you. You really should just bring me in for your debates, you know.’
‘Brush up on your Kremnoan first,’ he chuckles. ‘But as ridiculous as it sounds, it helps me to put that instinct to fight to survive on the same level as any other unpleasant, and less threatening, experience.’
‘I suppose I can relate. Sometimes I think I’d rather be stabbed by all my past selves again over having to deal with Caenis’s eternal passive-aggressive attitude, or endure another word from Lygus’s mouth. But only one of those is a realistic threat to me now.’ He shudders dramatically at the thought of her newfound false smiles and overly polite manner that contrast her cruel words.
‘To think she could still harbour such a grudge and deny our efforts even now… She truly is something else,’ Mydei agrees. ‘Even so, I’m glad we’re all here. But moreso, I am relieved to know your relentless ordeal is over, Deliverer.’
Phainon’s heart flutters at the familiar name. ‘I have to admit, hearing you call me that feels nice. Like old times.’
‘The first cycle?’
‘Mhm. It’s a bit different, too. Like, that innocent swell of pride at having your trust in me back then is there. But then after that, when the cycles kept going on and on, the weight of it was so much… more. Like a prison sentence rather than a promise of peace to come.’ He shivers, clinging to Mydei tighter. ‘I still don’t quite feel free. Even here in your arms. I’m sorry, I–’
‘None of that, now,’ Mydei shushes him softly.
He grounds himself, allowing his hands to explore Mydei’s body again and lets out a deep, shaky breath. ‘Right. I know, nothing to be sorry for.’
‘That’s right.’ Mydei’s fingers card through his hair again. ‘Still… Should I avoid using the title?’
‘Hmm. No. As heavy a title as it is to bear, I’d gladly take it on again.’
‘It doesn’t have to be a burden, either,’ Mydei adds. ‘You indeed delivered us, and that success will always be a great part of you. Hopefully that will start to feel more of a comfort than a burden.’
Phainon hums. ‘Thank you, Mydei.’
‘Don’t mention it. I understand what you meant, though. Not feeling free. The bad feelings can loom, even long after the threat is gone. But it gets better. Even if it doesn’t all go away, it will get better.’ Mydei looks back down at him, smiling fondly. ‘Like I said, just waking up, especially to you, is proof of that for me. I hope that can be the same for you someday.’
Phainon doesn’t respond, just carries on mapping out Mydei’s body. But Mydei doesn’t mind. In the silence he continues his motions in turn.
‘They just feel so… real,’ Phainon breaks the silence with a whisper.
‘Yeah. Real enough to make you burn.’
‘And enough to make you freeze.’
‘Hm.’
Phainon clings tighter to Mydei, as if hoping to warm him so much that he’ll forget that cold forever, and replacing the memories of the Sea crushing his body with his blanketing presence, grounding him in the land of the living. Mydei lets go of the covers, moving his hand to return the embrace, stroking over Phainon’s shoulderblades peaking out from under the covers.
‘But to answer you properly… The feeling is mutual. I truly am blessed to wake up to reality, to you. Thank you.’ Phainon pulls himself further up Mydei’s body, though despite his determination and now soothed headache he is still rather tired. He reaches just high enough to plant a kiss on Mydei’s jaw before he flops back down, his head finding its place in the crook of Mydei’s neck.
Mydei chuckles and leans down, pressing a kiss to the crown of Phainon’s head in return. ‘And how fortunate I am to have the promise of waking to your warmth.’
Phainon blushes. ‘You know, being able to warm you back up does make me feel like I’m not just some kind of destructive wildfire. I’m just a really, really hot human.’
Mydei’s eyes sweep over Phainon’s body, and he grins. ‘Indeed you are.’
‘Ha. Yet somehow, you’re hotter,’ Phainon says smoothly, though his deep blush shows he’s feeling anything but calm. He doesn’t need to strain himself to see Mydei is just as affected as he is, skin flushing all the way down his neck at the compliment.
‘Whatever you say, HKS,’ Mydei says, though there’s no heat behind it. Phainon chuckles and kisses Mydei’s collarbone, earning a satisfied sigh.
Mydei plays with Phainon’s hair a little longer, lost in the sensation of the regained fluffiness after all his efforts of untangling it. Both their breaths start to ease again, their heartbeats calming down, temperatures mixing so that they are neither too hot nor too cold as they embrace.
Phainon lets out a long yawn. ‘Feeling much better now. Can we move a bit? Just to our sides. But still like this, please.’
Mydei nods. With a grunt, he maintains his hold on Phainon and rolls them both over. He cradles Phainon’s head in one muscular arm, his other wrapping around his waist. Phainon’s right hand rests over Mydei’s chest, still wanting to feel his heartbeat no doubt, and his left leaves his hair to reach his upper back, massaging over the still tense muscles he couldn’t reach earlier on. Mydei smiles. He knows him so well to find where he’s hurting, no matter how little the pain.
One of Phainon’s legs lifts to lock around and pull out one of Mydei’s, stretching it out. ‘Your legs must be stiff, too. I should treat you to a full massage.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘But I want to. You wouldn’t deprive me of taking care of your body, would you?’
Mydei laughs tiredly, and relents. ‘Alright. Tomorrow, though.’ He stretches his legs out, tangling his upper one with Phainon’s. ‘This is enough for now.’ Phainon grins to himself in victory. Mydei closes his eyes as that firm yet careful hand maps out his shoulderblades, thumb and fingers digging the knots until nothing but softened relaxed muscle is left; even then, his hand continues to roam.
Mydei sighs, content, and leans his head down to kiss that bright head of hair. ‘That’s enough, now,’ Mydei whispers. ‘Thank you.’ Phainon hums, and just like that he’s out like a light. Mydei is about ready to fall asleep with him when his eyes crack back open as he feels Phainon’s left hand move from his upper back, snaking its way down. His hand settles firmly over his tenth vertebra and his fingers gently stroke it, even as the rest of his body remains still at rest.
‘Protecting me, even as you sleep…’ Mydei murmurs, his lips curling into a soft smile. Phainon remains silent, finally in a peaceful slumber now that he’s assured that Mydei is here and well.
With one last look at that human embodiment of light snuggled up at his chest, Mydei closes his eyes and holds him tight. If he were to truly fall into the Sea again, he knows he would find his way to join Phainon again. Perhaps someday his dreams will agree. Until then, he knows that even if he loses sight of it in those dark depths, his light is ever present, waiting to greet him with his warmth when he awakes.