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Drip. Drip. Drip.
Mydei’s brows furrow. He shifts his head to the side, adjusting to a more comfortable position. A low groan falls from his parted lips.
Droplets continue to beat rhythmically off the edge of the marble basin. Sweet rose petals and fragrant lavender blend together in a harmonious medley. Fingers tangle in his wet hair, gentle hands scratching lightly at his scalp, and the bubbly foam of bright citrus shampoo tickles his nose.
Mydei cracks an eye open, blearily looking around. Warm, silken water engulfs up to his chest, and he’s leaning against a warm but firm body, the planes of his bare back hitting hard muscle. He blinks away the sleep lazing behind his eyes, the hazy steam and the suffocating heat of Phainon pressed against him dragging him to consciousness.
“Morning, Mydei,” Phainon murmurs. Soft lips press against his neck as the calloused hands in his hair continue rubbing in soothing circles.
A chill runs down his spine.
“Why?” Mydei croaks out, voice hoarse. He tries to get out of the bathtub, but it’s slippery, and his legs are barely responding to his commands. His hands slip as he tries to grip onto the sides of the bathtub, and he falls, resulting in a chaotic splashing of soapy water, dousing the tile flooring. Even Phainon isn’t spared from the onslaught.
Strong arms wrap around his waist, steadying him whilst gently dragging him back down. Mydei thrashes against Phainon’s unrelenting grip. A lump grows in his throat.
This… This isn’t how it normally is. This isn't how it should be.
This is wrong.
“Mydei,” Phainon says, a touch of concern in his voice. “You okay?”
“I’m leaving. Get off me,” Mydei hisses, stubbornly attempting to get out once more. Fingernails dig into the meat of Phainon’s arms as he pushes away with all his might, but it's to no avail. His grasp slips, the panic grows. “This isn’t part of our agreement.”
“You still have shampoo in your hair. Calm down.”
With each movement, his backside aches, and the soapy water causes the bitemarks and bruises peppered all over his body to sting. The pain is ignorable, commonplace. He continues in his desperate attempts to climb out.
Memories of last night flash through his mind. Phainon had pinned him to the bed, fucked him until he could no longer put together a coherent thought, and stuffed his pussy and his ass until he couldn’t tell right from left, up from down. All he could focus on was how full he felt, the feeling of a warm body against his—all of his senses flooded with Phainon and only Phainon.
That’s how their relationship should be. None of this… this sorry excuse for tenderness.
Phainon has tried his hand at this in the past—attempted to clean Mydei up after taking him apart, but never to this extent. What’s going on?
“Mydei, please.”
“I don’t need you to waste your time—”
“I’m not wasting my time,” Phainon interrupts, eyes narrowing. “Don’t start with me.”
Stubborn. Infuriating. He almost wants to pick a fight, right here in this slippery bathroom, but one look at Phainon’s expression, those frustratingly clear, blue eyes, has him at a standstill.
Say no. Refuse. End this. He can’t—
“Fine. Only this once,” Mydei bites out. His heart thunders his chest. This is a bad idea. A lapse in judgement. For him to agree is a weakness he cannot afford. A luxury he doesn’t deserve.
Phainon hums in response, his expression softening into something sweet as tentative fingers crawl back into Mydei’s hair, scrubbing and scratching.
Begrudgingly, Mydei has to admit, it is nice. The warmth of the bath and Phainon’s skillful hands has him melting into the water, a soft sigh leaving his lips. He sinks back against Phainon’s firm chest as his eyelids grow heavy.
“Mine,” Phainon whispers.
“Yours,” Mydei mumbles, ignoring the way his heart clenches and his eyes burn. For now.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He doesn’t know how any of this started.
They were young. Foolish. Still are, if he’s being honest.
His life began in Castrum Kremnos, as the son of King Eurypon and Queen Gorgo, and ended when he was thrown out to sea to drown.
Well, it was supposed to end. That was to be his story recorded in the annals of history—the Kremnoan crown prince murdered by his insane father to the sorrow of his weeping mother.
But he lived, grew up in the sea of souls, ripped apart and reformed on repeat, re-emerging years later with crimson markings covering the entirety of his bony, malnourished body. He wandered from place to place, hiding in the wilderness and living alone in the forests, only to find himself in the bustling city called Aedes Elysiae at the age of eleven.
That fateful day, he met a teenage boy with moonlight hair and a stupidly infuriating grin. For reasons unknown, or rather, Mydei’s own lack of tact, they began to argue. It ended with them wrestling, kicking up a storm of dirt and alerting the royal guards. His fate had been sealed the moment he threw the first punch.
That was his first meeting with the crown prince of Aedes Elysiae. When Mydei realized he had inadvertently pissed off royalty, he had expected to be thrown in prison or publicly flogged to be made an example of. Only that hadn’t happened. No, instead, he had been given a room at the palace, food to eat, and an education. He was made to be Phainon’s companion, his equal .
None of it made any sense whatsoever. The royal family must have been crazy, and he has spent much time pondering why he was allowed such grace. He should have been thrown in with the pigs.
It’s been a decade, and still, he can’t comprehend it. Even as he and Phainon stride side by side through the marble palace halls, donned in the most luxurious of silks and jewels found in Amphoreus. He doesn’t know why he’s been allowed to live as pseudo-Elysian royalty, dining with the king and queen, and living with the crown prince. He’s a Kremnoan, and he looks like a carbon copy of Queen Gorgo, the same blonde hair tipped with red and sharp, cat-like golden eyes.
In attempting to find a reason, Mydei settles on the simplest conclusion: the royal family plans on using him as a political chess piece. Only it won’t work. Not at all. There’s no love lost between him and his father, King Eurypon of Castrum Kremnos.
Phainon, from the moment they shook hands and made amends, has always been touchy, never shying away from physical affection. The creep of a hand around his waist as they enjoy the silky water of the royal baths, an arm slung around his shoulder as they stroll through the wide stone streets, thighs brushing against each other in the middle of a heated spar.
Mydei recalls a sunny spring day. The mid-afternoon breeze cut through the heat, blowing refreshing air against their sweaty bodies as they fought, engrossed in combat and with each other. A specific courtyard in the palace had been carved out for them to tussle in, a large grassy field bordered by lush olive trees. Save for them, only Phainon’s parents and adopted sister, Cyrene, were allowed into this area.
Due to rising tensions between Aedes Elysiae and Castrum Kremnos, Phainon hadn’t been in the best mood, lashing out at even the most minor of inconveniences. His normally jovial features had been wiped out, replaced with deep set eye bags and even messier hair than usual. The responsibility must have been stifling as King Hieronymus expected only the best from his son.
It was obvious in Phainon’s rough punches and frustrated shouts that this spar was to relieve the mess of his emotions. One misstep had Mydei roughly slammed into the ground, his back arching up and his knees inadvertently brushing against Phainon’s crotch. The shift was instant, palpable. The air in the courtyard had thickened while Phainon’s breathing grew ragged, eyes darkening. Phainon pulled him into a rough kiss, sparking the beginning of the end.
They had sex on the grass amidst the rays of the burning sun. Rough. Unrestrained. Phainon fucked him like a beast in rut, and Mydei returned suit by clawing and hissing, raking his fingernails into every area of exposed skin.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Phainon said roughly as he pulled out and immediately began redressing. His expression flickered as he yanked his pants back up. “This doesn’t mean anything.”
Somehow, no one had heard or seen, regardless of all the noises they didn't hold back; they were too entranced to focus on anything but each other.
It seemed like the natural progression of their relationship. From then on, Phainon seeked him out, and Mydei indulged him. It was only ever physical, a way to repay Phainon and his family for allowing him to stay.
The sex was rough with no strings attached. A different type of competition. Who can wear the other out first?
He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. He does. When Phainon bites him hard enough to break skin, he feels like he’s worth something. The treasure map of purple and red bruises Phainon leaves on his body are signs that he’s alive, and the soreness between his thighs and the near constant dull ache in his spine is yet another reminder.
No longer is he floating aimlessly in the neverending sea, devoured and born anew until he can’t tell where he starts and where he ends. It shows he’s still human—that someone out there desires him, even if it’s only for his body.
“I don’t need your pity. I can take care of myself,” Mydei tersely tells Phainon the next morning. He wakes up in Phainon’s bedroom, swaddled in thick cotton blankets. Anxiety shoots up his spine like lightning before a thunderstorm. He’s never been allowed in here before.
Soft, silken robes wrap around his body, thin, almost sheer, and made of the finest materials that Aedes Elysiae has to offer. It rests uncomfortably against his feverish skin. He considers ripping it off, his hands wandering to bunch at the fabric covering his breast.
“It’s not out of pity,” Phainon quickly consoles as he slides on his white overcoat. “What if I want to take care of you?”
Ignoring the squeezing in his chest, Mydei scoffs. “ Haikas. I don’t need you to. Do not catch feelings, Deliverer.”
“Too late,” Phainon shoots back as he adjusts his sleeves.
Mydei glares.
“Is it so wrong for me to feel this way? You are my dearest companion, of course I want you to be comfortable,” Phainon says lightly. His expression drops as he looks off to the side, voice lowering. “Tell me to and I’ll stop. We’ll go back to the way we were before.”
It’s wrong. By the titans is it wrong. He shouldn’t be wasting Phainon’s time like this.
Dearest companion? He almost wants to laugh. They passed that simple boundary a long time ago.
Phainon is a busy man who carries the responsibilities of an entire kingdom atop his shoulders. The future king of Aedes Elysiae. A leader to one of the greatest city-states Amphoreus has ever seen.
Meanwhile, Mydei is nothing more than the exiled prince of Castrum Kremnos, abandoned at birth and left to drown. He’s a bad omen—the heir who foretold the ruin of the Kremnoan Empire.
The difference between them is night and day. Bitterly, Mydei mutters, “We’re only fooling around…”
They shouldn’t even be doing this, yet he can’t tell Phainon no. What the crown prince desires is first priority, but if they were to get caught, the disastrous scandal would tarnish his pristine reputation. A prince that dallies around is frowned upon.
Phainon’s eyes darken, expression falling further. The soft curve of his lips has disappeared. “I see.”
“You have your duty as king. Think about your future as leader of Aedes Elysiae, will you? You have people looking up to you depending on you,” Mydei says, ignoring the uncomfortable pangs in his chest. “I can provide you with my body as you need, but do not forget your responsibilities.” This is all he can offer. What he truly wants to say will never leave his lips.
Deliverer, you will wed with a beautiful, graceful noble and forget all about me. She will take my place in your life, provide for you what I cannot. She deserves your kindness, your care, your love and attention. She will be able to love you more than I ever could.
I’m living on borrowed time. The Kremnoans will eventually realize that I’m not dead, and they will come for me. The rumors have been circulating, so I must leave and run far away, destroy our connection so you won’t be implicated. I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, the stain on your otherwise perfect image. I don’t want to drag you down with me.
Do not attach yourself to me, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae. Our fates were never meant to intertwine.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mydei sits silently at the edge of the courtyard fountain carved in the image of Kephale holding the sun atop his shoulders. Even this far, he can hear the music, bold and classically Elysian, playing from inside the palace. He can imagine the ballroom filled with hundreds of lavish guests donning expensive outfits, sipping away at expensive drinks and decadent desserts. Yet another event meant to attract potential suitors for the crown prince.
He doesn’t like these types of gatherings. Though Phainon tries to coax him into going, stating that everyone’s identities are hidden behind jeweled masks and that no one will recognize who he is, he still refuses.
It’s too risky.
Rumors float around about him—the young blonde man who looks a little too similar to Queen Gorgo of Castrum Kremnos. The one with the strange but striking crimson markings that cover the expanse of his body. The one who hangs a little too close with their crown prince.
The circumstances are deteriorating with each passing day. He’s not sure how much longer he can hold on. Already, he avoids leaving the confines of the palace unless Phainon drags him out, even if he does desperately crave a change of scenery. He misses the wilderness, the unrestrained nature, the crunch of leaves beneath his feet, and the sweet chirping of birds as they fly with no restraint. His wings were clipped long ago.
Mydei dips his fingers into the icy water, staring at his distorted reflection within the ripples. He sees a man of twenty one years. Though he ages, he cannot die. He has not yet divulged that information to anyone. It will only be used against him.
Away from the events of the night, the surroundings are calm and peaceful. Stars twinkle bright in the night sky and the full moon shines, reflecting the sun’s sweet embrace. Crickets chirp enthusiastically in the far distance, filling the night with their song. The stone fountain emits a soft light, contrasting with the darkness engulfing the rest of the garden.
Mydei expects to stay alone for the remainder of the night, yet his wishes are never granted. The quiet is broken, shattered by a deliberate rustling of restless foliage and footsteps that crunch against grass only to slam onto stone. The rhythm is familiar, confident, and steady. Already, he can envision black leather boots crunching towards him. He doesn’t have to turn to know who it is.
A familiar timbre, strong in its standing, but smooth like the richest butter, warm and sweet like honey, calls out for him. Though he knows better, his body still seizes.
“What do you want?” Mydei growls, not bothering to turn around to greet the other man.
“Is that any way to greet your dearest friend?” Phainon laughs.
Friend . A wry smile twists Mydei’s lips. He’s glad Phainon can’t see him, covered by the darkness.
“I knew you would be out here.” Phainon approaches. “It’s far too loud in the palace right now.”
A gentle gloved hand is placed on his shoulder. Mydei continues to stare blankly at his reflection only now Phainon’s reflection joins him too. Dressed lavishly, the crest of Aedes Elysiae is proudly displayed on his royal, tailored suit comprising of white, blues, and blacks.
Phainon looks perfect, right out of a fairytale. Mydei… well, he’s in his loose sleep robes, and his hair is messy, mussed from the soft spring breeze that blows by every so often. He supposes he should have made himself more presentable on the off chance someone does pass by, but he had no energy to layer on proper clothing.
In his eyes, he looks like a potato sack, and he feels like one too. He can’t sleep. It’s hard to get rest when all he’s left with are the racing thoughts, suffocating and unrelenting. His room feels like an oven, blistering hot even with the windows thrown wide open.
“Mydei,” Phainon says again. “Will you please look at me?”
Sighing, Mydei begrudgingly turns back. “What is it?”
Phainon stands there, a slight redness dusting his cheeks. With a graceful, fluid bow, he says, “Will you do me the honor of having this dance?”
As always, Phainon looks beautiful—handsome and brilliant as though he were the sun’s rays beaming down, flourishing his blessing upon the land. Even in the dead of night, it’s difficult to look at him as if he’s staring into the sun itself. Mydei turns his head away once more, ignoring the way his own cheeks and ears begin to burn.
Phainon laughs. “Don’t leave me hanging now.”
Mydei swallows. It’d be so easy to take Phainon’s hand and indulge himself, allow himself this fantasy. A dance to last a lifetime.
For Phainon, it’s a spur of the moment decision—a pity towards Mydei who’s out alone on this plentiful night. That’s why he offers it so freely. It means nothing to the crown prince, less than the weight of a feather, while it means everything to Mydei, buried beneath the expectations of his uncertain future.
“You should go back inside before your family begins to worry,” Mydei settles on saying. These lavish parties are meant for the crown prince to find his special other. A king is nothing without their queen, yet Phainon keeps resisting any attempt at matchmaking even though he’s already far past the age of marriage. A twenty five year old prince with no marriage prospects in sight.
It doesn’t make any sense. Even worse is how no one in the palace seems to care. They let Phainon do whatever he wants. They spoil him and never tell him no.
“My parents won’t be bothering us,” Phainon says. He leans closer and winks. “Cyrene is distracting them for me.”
Of course she is.
“Go back inside, Deliverer. Leave me be,” Mydei says through gritted teeth.
Phainon stands his ground, stubborn as always. “I won’t leave until you say yes. One dance, Mydei, then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. I’ll go back inside and act as I should.” He pauses. “ Please, ” adding a little pout that he knows Mydei can't resist.
He’d be content to ignore Phainon’s pleas if it weren’t for the other man slowly inching closer with each passing moment. Seating himself beside Mydei, he stares expectantly.
Neither of them speak. Phainon continues to stare in wait, hoping to break down Mydei’s defenses through sheer perseverance alone. What was supposed to be a quiet night where he could stare at the stars, stay alone with his thoughts, has now become a competition of who will crack first.
Unfortunately, his resolve is paper-thin when it comes to Phainon. After minutes of suffocating silence, Mydei spits, “Fine.” Though he’s caving, he reminds himself that he’s only placating a spoiled prince. Nothing more.
Phainon's smile is blinding, blue eyes glittering like precious ocean jewels. It’s almost too much. That smile shouldn’t be directed at him.
Phainon jumps to his feet and kneels in front of Mydei. He takes Mydei’s hand and presses a soft kiss at the top. Though he should know better, his breath hitches and his heart—that traitor —skips a beat. Phainon runs hot, always has, and the cool, breezy weather that Mydei has steeped himself in for the past few hours doesn’t help one bit.
“May I have this dance, my dear prince?” Phainon asks again, warmth breath fanning against Mydei’s hand. He looks up with adoration in his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. It makes Mydei’s stomach flip unpleasantly.
“I’m not a prince,” Mydei whispers. Unconsciously, he grips tighter onto Phainon’s hand, the warmth radiating throughout. He doesn’t want to let go. “You’re always so dramatic.”
“You’re my prince,” Phainon says as he releases Mydei’s hand much to the other’s chagrin and stands back up. He bows again, arm outstretched for Mydei to grab, “Is that a yes?”
“As long as you fulfill your end of the bargain.” He can detect the slight fall of Phainon’s expression before he brightens up once more, radiant like the dawn breaking through the sky, the first rays of the sun on a new day.
Sighing softly, almost fond in the slight glimmer of golden eyes, Mydei relents. When their hands connect once more, Phainon pulls him to his feet, yanking the breath out of Mydei’s lungs. Their chests press flush against each other, and Phainon snakes an arm around his waist, holding on tight, terrified this moment would end if he were to let go.
Mydei’s senses are struck by Phainon, the warm comfort of his strong body and the deep and mellow scent of his cologne, notes of bergamot and leather, mixed with his own unique signature of lush spring. This close, they share one space, and the dim light of the fountain illuminates Phainon in a soft, angelic halo.
The world narrows to only the two of them. In the quiet of the still night, they dance to the tune of each other.
“What would people think if they saw you with someone in little more than rags?” Mydei asks cynically.
“You look good no matter what you wear, Mydei. They would be entranced as am I,” Phainon responds, sounding so genuine that it has Mydei stilling in his step. He guides Mydei through the movements, slowing down, speeding up, well practiced in the art.
“You can’t be for real,” Mydei mutters. Phainon’s palms are warm against the cool evening breeze and. Bodies are slotted together, faces only centimeters apart, they fall into a familiar rhythm. Even if he’s never danced before, his body slides gracefully, in tandem with Phainon’s as if they were one.
Phainon’s gaze is clear. His blue eyes shine in the dim light, and he looks at Mydei like he's something precious, special. His voice comes out as a low murmur, “I am. This is real.”
It burns where they touch, their fingers, the arm wrapped around his waist, each brush of their thighs as they move in tandem. Mydei’s heart bleeds as the fire roars. He extinguishes the flame, stomps on it until it’s little more than a speckle of ash and a drizzle of smoke.
He can’t let himself fall.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Phainon’s father, King Hieronymus, is a kind but stern man, a wise ruler who balances the needs of the country with the well-being of his people. He’s in opposition to King Eurypon who rules with little regard, his only care in brutal military conquest.
Aedes Elysiae stands as one of the largest city-states in Amphoreus with Okhema and Castrum Kremnos being the only two kingdoms that could even hope to compete. As it goes, Okhema is Aedes Elysiae’s closest ally and primary trading partner, exchanging handmade pottery, textiles, and fragrances for precious metals, spices, and royal dyes.
Castrum Kremnos is the shared enemy, a constant threat that looms, a shadow lurking and waiting to strike. Already, many lesser city-states have been swallowed up by the bloodthirsty Kremnoans—cultures destroyed, villages pillaged, people captured to sell as slaves or cut down for daring to resist.
Submit or die. Glory in violence. Castrum Kremnos has operated on military conquest since its inception, only King Eurypon, titled the “Mad King”, has tripled its already colossal military force, aiming to unite Amphoreus under one bloody flag.
The treaty of peace written millennia ago is the only barrier from all out war. It will not hold for long.
Granted an audience with the King of Aedes Elysiae, Mydei kneels on the marble flooring to pay his respects to the man that has given him stability in the face of chaos, a life he never asked for nor deserved but is grateful for nonetheless.
Mosaic murals surround the walls of the throne room, depictions of the founding of Aedes Elysiae by two brothers holding one sword, grand battles in the endless ocean surrounded by the roaring waves of Phagousa, a beautiful, willowy woman cradling a child in gentle fields of dancing wheat with the sun beaming brightly above. These walls hold the history of Aedes Elysiae. This millennia old palace with its cream marble pillars, vast hallways, towering olive trees, and carved stone statues of griffins, is both a relic of the past and a symbol of the future.
“What will you do thereafter?” the king asks as he rhythmically taps his ringed fingers onto the olive wood armrests of his throne. “We are in treacherous times. It’s dangerous to leave Aedes Elysiae.”
“I will survive on my own,” Mydei replies easily. “I know how to navigate the forests and disguise my appearance. I have succeeded for years without getting caught. There should be no trouble.”
King Hieronymus regards him with those endlessly blue eyes, the very same eyes that Phainon wears. It makes Mydei’s chest ache, knowing what he’s leaving behind. He’s indebted, and never does he think he will ever be able to repay what he’s taken.
“It’s dangerous. You are much safer here,” the king argues. “There is anarchy outside these walls.”
Mydei bows deeply, forehead grazing cool marble. “Thank you, your majesty, but I cannot endanger your kingdom with my presence. I will forever be in gratitude for the kindness you have shown me.”
“You are no danger.” The king sighs. “Please stand, Mydeimos. It does not suit you to kneel.”
Without question, Mydei obeys. He forces himself to his feet, ignoring the shaking of his knees and the numbness of his feet. He doesn’t make eye contact with the king, unable to stomach the consequences. He doesn’t want to look up and see the man that has treated him so well for these years for he knows the concern brewing in that aged gaze.
Taking a deep breath, he says with practiced steadiness, “Castrum Kremnos is volatile. They aim to conquer with no regard for the consequences. If my—my…” He swallows, his voice suddenly hoarse. Regardless, he forces himself to continue, “If King Eurypon realizes that I am still alive and that you are housing me, he will use that as a reason to initiate an attack. Castrum Kremnos does not know mercy. They will lay siege and destroy anyone that gets in their way.”
Even when faced with the harrowing reality of all-out destruction, King Hieronymus does not waver. His voice is patient, steadfast like a fortified dam holding back an unexpected flood of water. “We will face them when the time comes. It is inevitable. I would rather have you safe with us than at the end of their spears. You are family.”
The corners of his eyes prickle. This kindness is far too much, but it’s nothing more than empty, placating words. He’s sure the king will change tune if King Eurypon were to lay siege. “Thank you, but I cannot live with myself if any harm were to happen because of me. For any citizen of Aedes Elysiae to lose their life because of my continued existence within these walls is unforgivable.”
The deep-set lines grow on the king’s handsome but aged face. His lips set in a thin line. “It seems your decision is set.” Slowly, he rises from his throne and strides down the steps, blue and black cape billowing behind him. A warm hand is placed on his shoulder. “I cannot stop you. Should you desire to return, you are always welcome here. Aedes Elysiae will always be your home.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Soft silks, new metal gauntlets. Jewelry embedded with priceless sapphire, gold leather sandals.
Mydei’s head spins when he sees the gifts brought to his door. At first, he thinks it's a mistake, items meant for Cyrene or the queen, but the golden gauntlets fit his hand perfectly and the silks are in gold and red, his favored colors.
When he tries to tell the royal guards about the potential wrong delivery, he’s told the items are meant for him. One of the guards mentions that he is to wear all items given to him, aside from the golden gauntlets which are meant for battle.
With a sigh, Mydei returns to his room and stares down at the assortment of gifts. The crimson red silk, embroidered with gold trim, is flashier than he’s used to. He turns it over to find the royal crest of Aedes Elysiae. Only the royal family has the right to wear the symbol yet it’s placed in front of him, given to him like he’s one of them.
He’s not.
Even so, even with the uncomfortable pull in his chest, he drapes the silk over his body, fashions and ties the corners and his waist with thin golden belts. It’s on the longer end, reaching down to his ankles. He slips on the leather sandals, working through the numerous straps.
His gaze hones in on the assortment of jewelry, eye-catching pieces of shiny heavy metal. He doesn’t even want to think about the price of these items. The necklace consists of plates of pure gold, embedded with large chunks of cut sapphire, hardly wearable in most casual settings. In comparison, the dangling earrings are light and elegant. There’s also a pair of golden armbands and a laurel headpiece made of gold fashioned into leaves.
The necklace falls across his chest, the armband tight on his biceps, and the earrings looped into his ear. He stares at himself in the mirror as he weaves the laurels into his hair, attempting to keep his untamed mane from growing messier. Wearing such an outfit, decked in enough gold that could buy half of the city, he feels like a pampered pet.
There must be a reason for these lavish gifts. Nothing in life is free. He’s sure the king will reveal his plans soon. For now, he has to bear the weight of these items and their uncertainty until the truth comes out.
Last night, Phainon had requested for them to meet at their training courtyard so they could grab dinner together, mentioning something about showing Mydei to a new restaurant that had recently been opened. An open restaurant near the seashore, impossible to get a reservation if they were normal citizens.
Phainon stands in their usual meeting spot, beneath the aged olive tree, the one they always lounge under when the sun shines too bright. When they were younger, Phainon had taken a blade and carved their names into the bark, a pleased smile on his sunny features when he told Mydei they would forever be engraved here. Years later, the tree still bears the mark.
“My dear Mydeimos! I’ve been waiting…” Phainon greets enthusiastically only to pause, the words dying on his lips. Dressed crisp in his customary white and blue, he looks as he always does, a prince out of a fairytale, the ideal that every Elysian man strives to be. His brilliant blue eyes, wide in shock, slowly trail the expanse of Mydei’s body, drinking in the sight.
Unused to such attention, Mydei covers his chest with his arms.
“Wow, I…” Phainon’s face flushes, a tremble to his eyelashes. “You look amazing. Wow. Uh…” He swallows, unable to continue.
“Shall we go?” Mydei asks only to lurch back when Phainon’s hand reaches out to play with the earrings, watching in rapt attention as they dangle and shine in the daylight.
“Beautiful,” Phainon whispers. “It suits you. Do you like it?”
Swallowing down his unease, Mydei replies, “They’re adequate. Please thank your father and tell him to refrain from buying me such things next time. I have no use for expensive luxuries.”
Phainon pauses. “My father?” he echos.
“I assume he sent them to me. Does he require my service?”
“Ah, no. That’s not…” Phainon deflates, retracting his hand. It falls slack to his side. “No, he doesn’t require anything from you.” A sigh falls from his lips, blue eyes dim. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for our reservation.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
In the coming days, Phainon is harsher on him than usual, more ravenous too. Mydei is sure his duties have been weighing on him. He always acts like this when the responsibility and burden becomes overwhelming.
Phainon bends him over and takes him in the dirty alleyway of the market, bounces him in the empty but public bathhouse amidst hot water and steam, fucks him on the grass in their usual sparring grounds.
“You’re always so wet and open,” Phainon groans as he slams Mydei against the limestone walls of Aedes Elysiae’s grandest temple. “I don’t even have to try to slip in.”
“Shut up,” Mydei hisses, wrapping his arms around Phainon’s neck, attempting to smother him. All he gets is an amused snort and soft lips against his neck.
“I’ve taken you how many times and yet you still react like this?” Phainon laughs. “Darling, it doesn’t suit you to act like a prude.”
His body always betrays him. His cunt throbs and drips incessantly, staining Phainon’s pristine leather shoes and making a mess of holy ground. Kephale will not be pleased, but it barely registers, not with how full he feels, the breath being punched out of his lungs. He swears he can feel Phainon all the way in his throat.
Phainon slaps a hand over Mydei’s mouth to stop him from moaning as he fucks into his drooling pussy, driving deeper each time. His strength speaks for itself as he only needs one arm to hold Mydei upright. Mydei screws his eyes shut, bites his lip, and clings onto Phainon as if his life depends on it.
In a way, it does. All of this can disappear in an instant if Phainon so willed it.
“You like this,” Phainon whispers, voice low. He knows that only with him will Mydei allow himself to let loose. It’s a power that Phainon holds over him, yet he does not hold the same over the other man.
Phainon delights in taking him raw, likes painting his cock with Mydei’s juices. It’s dangerous. If he were to get pregnant, then… Mydei shuts that line of thought.
They fight, and they fuck. In public, they act as rivals, fellow companions, but behind closed doors, their relationship continues as it always does. Phainon takes. Mydei gives.
“On your knees,” Phainon commands.
They’ve finished lessons for the day. In the safe emptiness of the Phainon’s private office, Mydei finds himself on his knees with Phainon’s cock slapping his face. The prince drags the tip over Mydei’s plush lips over and over, covering Mydei’s lips in a sheen of precum.
A pink tongue peaks out to lick at the head. Mydei stares up at Phainon while he laps all over, dipping into the slit and back out. Slowly, he sinks down, watching in rapt attention as Phainon’s composure starts to crack, as his breathing grows ragged and he bites his lip when Mydei’s tongue swirls on the underside of his cock.
His pussy throbs and wetness begins to pool. It’s been awhile since he’s had Phainon in his mouth. His fingers find themselves beneath his undergarments, and he moans against Phainon’s cock.
“Beautiful,” Phainon smirks. “You look good. Only I can have you like this.”
Phainon yanks him by the hair and pushes him further on his cock. It slams the back of his throat, causing his eyes to flutter shut. He doesn’t gag—his gag reflex had been trained out of him ages ago.
The fire burns. Phainon begins to move.
This is good. This is how their relationship should be. He wants to be used like this. Nothing more, nothing less.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mydei wanders the hallways at night when he can’t sleep. It’s become a habit borne out of his tendency to constantly be on the move. His fingers trace over the mosaic murals lining the walls, smooth ceramic cold beneath his fingers.
Absent-mindedly, he paces barefoot in the main hall, past numerous aged marble pillars. Though it’s very much the middle of the night where all servants are asleep and the sun is firmly hidden, buried beneath the moon, the light to the throne room is on. Once again, the king must be working overtime, dealing with crises that have been blooming more often.
Issues with Castrum Kremnos, from what Mydei can guess. He’s heard the news.
Right as he’s about to return back to his room and attempt to rest once more, he hears a familiar masculine voice. He stills in his step, his breathing halted.
No. He should leave right now.
There’s little reason why he should be listening in on a private conversation.
“Father,” Phainon says, resolute. “I have made my final decision.”
His heart thumps unpleasantly. Slowly, he inches closer, careful to ensure his footsteps are as gentle as possible. He’s glad he didn’t wear any shoes, the click of leather sandals would surely give him away. The palace is always meticulously cleaned with not a single speck of dust found anywhere, courtesy of Queen Audata who’s very particular about the state of her home.
“I have found the one I wish to marry,” Phainon continues. Mydei can envision brilliant blue eyes burning with equal parts determination and affection. His temple throbs at the mental image.
The king laughs. “Are you certain, my son?”
“Yes, father!” He sounds so enthusiastic. Mydei’s throat closes.
“Very well,” the king laughs. “I have waited for this day.” A pause. A softening of his deep voice. “I’m proud of you.”
Though he knows better, his body still betrays him. His chest begins to hurt as butterflies birth and flutter wildly around in his stomach. He presses his hand against his heart, feeling the erratic thump beneath the swell of his breast.
Pathetic. He really is pathetic.
The father and son continue to speak about their plans. About how grand the wedding will be. About how Phainon has finally found his queen, the love of his life, his one and only, his equal.
Any attempt to push down these newfound unpleasant feelings only brings about a new wave. Clutching tightly onto his robes, he shuts his eyes and works to steady himself lest he make a mess right here and now.
Good. This is a good turn of events. He’s been wanting for Phainon to find someone. The entire kingdom has. This is great news. And it seems like Phainon is rather impatient, wishing to court her and marry her soon. She’ll be lavished with gifts, and the wedding will bring ripples across all of Amphoreus.
It’s perfect. Everything is perfect. This is how it should be.
But… Mydei’s fingers dig into his breast. His breathing stalls, and he leans against the marble pillar for support.
Why… Why does it hurt so terribly?
Phainon always denies any potential suitors. Nobles, princesses, commoners. No one has charmed him thus far. He’s stubborn, always insisting that he will marry for love and not convenience. After all, his parents met when they were young and fell in love. He wants that for himself, and Mydei can’t fault him for that, but to say it isn’t idealistic is to deny the truth.
It’ll be easier to leave now that Phainon has secured his future queen. He wonders what she’s like. Is her smile as radiant as Phainon’s? Is she kind and hardworking? Or is she a spoiled noble princess who has never lifted a finger in her life?
He shouldn’t be curious. This is none of his business. It's better to push away these thoughts than allow them any semblance of control. He knows his feelings. He's known them for years, but he’s also spent so much time preparing for this turn of events. The hurt comes through regardless.
Even if he loves Phainon, even if he wishes desperately that their circumstances could be different, he cannot waver. For the man he loves, he will do anything.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The thoughts fester. The jealousy consumes him, and he finds himself seeking Phainon even when he knows he shouldn’t. He digs into Phainon every chance he gets, watches as Phainon’s demeanor falls, his patience chipped away by Mydei’s piercing words. Desire burns hot in his veins, but Phainon refuses to fall into his games, refuses to slam Mydei into the ground when once it was commonplace.
Phainon fucks him slower, bites him less. The marks that once littered his body have faded. Instead, Phainon tries to be gentle, fingers ghosting over Mydei’s trembling body, whispering words of affection.
At first, he’s confused, only to come to the harrowing realization that he’s being used as a stand in. Phainon is using him as a guinea pig, pretending that Mydei is his future wife and queen. Rough and unrestrained is how Phainon usually fucks him, that’s how he’s always done it, but now, he’s trying to be soft and gentle.
He would be a fool to deny it.
Knowing that he’s being used like this only to be tossed aside once Phainon marries the woman of his dreams, he hates it. He rather be fucked into the mattress, left a sore mess, instead of being forced to witness this fake display of tenderness.
Phainon grows more distant, more busy. He’s always in his study or away on diplomatic trips, attempting to secure more allies before Castrum Kremnos strikes. Mydei finds himself training alone with Cyrene occasionally popping in to say her greetings. He’s even taken to reading Cyrene’s fantasy novels of mythical heroes and beautiful princesses. It’s fun to indulge rather than fester in his thoughts.
Maybe it’s good that he’s left alone. This way he can make his preparations without anyone breathing down his neck. He’s almost ready.
As he passes by the throne room, he hears talk of a wedding—a grand, week-long affair. He finds Queen Audata at his door with a tailor, taking precise measurements of his body. She doesn’t reveal why, only gives him a gentle smile before apologizing for her son’s unruly behavior.
Rumors fly through the palace, the entire city. The guards, the servants, the cooks, all speak in hushed whispers, freezing in their words when he passes through. The one Phainon wishes to wed is royalty who hails outside of Aedes Elysiae. A rare beauty who commands attention with their very presence.
Phainon visits, bringing souvenirs from his trips, only to be whisked away before they even have the chance to speak longer than ten minutes. He stares down at the growing pile of gifts—a silver and gold bangle hailing from Aidonia, the strange musical device that sounds like a cat’s cry from Doros, the box of sugared fruit jellies from Corinth.
The days crawl by. The longer he goes without Phainon’s blistering touch, the more insatiable he grows, clamoring for the feel of Phainon’s hot body slotted against his. It’s only natural, he’s come to admit as the days inch by. He misses the ache in between his thighs and the love bites that blotch his tanned skin purple and red. Ticking away on a time-limit, he wants to hoard as much of Phainon as he can before he has to leave. Every minute they spend together is a memory that Mydei commits to his being.
A singular brush of their bodies sends fire coursing through his veins. He wants Phainon to ruin him, wants to bear the permanent marks of Phainon’s desire. His impact on Phainon’s life may be nothing more than a drop in the vast sea, but he hopes that maybe, in the shadow of night, Phainon will look back to his younger years and think of him. Even if it only lasts a fraction of a second, it’ll be enough.
Mydei spreads his legs open. The cold evening air blows in from the open window, a chill running down his spine. He uses his fingers to spread himself open for Phainon’s viewing. Already, he’s making a mess of the silken bedsheets, leaking as his legs tremble incessantly. His hole clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled.
Frustrating as he always is, Phainon takes his sweet time, dragging this out instead of taking him like he once did. There’s none of the usual rough grinding of him into the mattress. No, Phainon seems hesitant, more so than before.
After all, it’s been weeks since they’ve last fucked.
Mydei can’t handle it anymore.
“Fuck me,” he bites out. “What are you waiting for?”
He’s so frustrated he could almost scream. The temptation to plug himself up with his fingers grows more tempting with each passing second. They’re in Mydei’s room this time. Phainon doesn’t wish for his bedsheets to be tainted by their lustful endeavors.
“Do you want me to beg?” Mydei says, desperation tinged in his voice. “I’ll beg.”
He rubs around his slick folds, coating his fingers, before sliding up to his clit. He rubs in slow circles only to groan in misery. It doesn’t feel satisfying, not when he has Phainon standing in front of him—Phainon who knows how to work his body in ways he can’t fathom. The sting of rejection runs cold. If Phainon insists on pretending as if he doesn’t exist, then… His fingers drop, and he closes his legs.
Phainon looks like he’s at war with himself. His expression looks not at Mydei but to the side, a slight tremor to arm as he raises it up only to have it drop back down. Moonlight eyelashes cast shadows over his blue eyes, darkening them, the color of the deep sea.
“I want to savor what we have now,” Phainon says, raising his eyes to once more meet Mydei’s gaze. His voice is softer, slower, lacking his usual bite. “Let me have this.”
“‘Savor what we have now’ ?” Mydei repeats hollowly. “You can fuck me whenever you want, Deliverer. Why are you hesitating?” When he receives no response, he scoffs, “If this had been two months ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
It seems those are the wrong words to say because Phainon sighs and gets off the bed. He grabs his discarded clothing and starts roughly yanking them back on, his back turned to Mydei. As he fumbles with his belt buckle, he mutters, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do I not suit your tastes anymore?” Mydei asks. If that’s the case, then he’s lost his only use. He expected this. He’s not small or dainty, more sharp edges and harsh lines than sweet features and soft curves. His appearance is that of a trained warrior, and he’s sure Phainon’s love is delicate in all the ways he isn’t. It’s a miracle Phainon even wanted him to begin with.
Phainon turns back. His eyes narrow as he says, “You’re frustrating, you know that? It’s like you do this on purpose.”
His words spur Mydei to sneer. “If you’re not going to stick your dick in me then get out.”
It's better this way. He can’t continue to hold onto these feelings. Destroying his already fragile relationship with the future king is the smartest option.
Distance yourself from him, allow his ire, he reminds himself. By now, it should be drilled into his head, yet he falters.
“I don’t understand why you have to act like this. Why do you always insist on pushing me away…? Is it so difficult to believe I care for you? I want you to stay with me, but…” Phainon trails off, unsure as he fiddles with his sleeve. Blue eyes shine with a plea that won’t be answered.
“This is to relieve stress,” Mydei says, tilting his head, a bored expression plastered over his sharp features. He doesn’t look at Phainon’s face, doesn’t think he can. “That is all.”
There’s little reason why he has to tell Phainon this. After all, this is how their relationship has functioned for the past few years. He nothing more than stress relief for the crown prince. He expects clarity in those blue eyes, for Phainon to fall back to understanding. Instead, he receives what he never thought, never dared dream he would.
“I’m in love with you,” Phainon admits, “and have been for the past few years. This isn’t only to relieve stress. You may view it as that, but I don’t.” His expression falls as the last words leave his lips. His shoulders tense, eyes flitting away with none of his usual bright confidence.
Golden eyes widen only to narrow in skeptisicm. It sounds genuine, but Phainon has always been a good liar, a master at politics like his father. After all, to be a good king, truths must be twisted, lies omitted. Phainon is set to marry another. Mydei had once believed himself to be Phainon’s confidante and had even waited for Phainon to approach him and tell him the news about the wedding, only to be left in the dark. Even now, he still doesn’t know who Phainon is in love with.
Back when they were young, Phainon used to tell him everything. Now, he’s told nothing, kept an outsider. Mydei can’t blame Phainon for it. After all, he’s keeping his own secrets.
“You don’t love me,” Mydei scoffs. He scoots to the edge of the bed and grabs his discarded robes. Voice low, he mutters, “Don’t kid yourself.”
“Who are you to tell me about my feelings?” Phainon asks. His anger grows palpable, the once soft rays of the sun become scalding.
Aiming to stoke the flames, Mydei forces a smirk. “You are young and naive—”
“I’m older than you, Mydei!” Phainon snarls, eyes wide as he rushes towards Mydei and grabs him by the shoulders, cleancut fingernails digging deep into soft, exposed flesh. “I know what I feel! And I know that I want to take care of you—not fuck you and then leave you to take care of yourself!”
This close, Mydei is once again smothered in warmth, but he ignores it. He stares not at Phainon’s twisted expression but at the wall behind him. He won’t fall for this poor excuse of an act, a pitiful attempt to pull at his heartstrings.
Phainon’s voice cracks. “My apologies if my feelings are one-sided… I thought—” He bites his lip in frustration, his gaze falling downwards. “If this is the arrangement you want—nothing beyond—I don’t believe I can deliver to your satisfaction.”
Mydei tilts his head to the side, letting his bangs fall over his eyes. His heart trembles but his voice comes out light, “When we started this arrangement, you said you didn’t want anyone to know. You said that it meant nothing. You told me that moments after you took my virginity. Are you trying to negate that fact?”
Phainon expression falls, his grip loosens. “I…”
“It hurt,” Mydei says plainly. He places a hand between his now clothed thighs. “I was barely able to walk the next day, and you expected me to act as if it hadn’t happened. And then you continued to seek me out without a regard for how I felt. What was I supposed to do? Tell you no? You had all the power. I was— am —nothing more than a street rat given the opportunity to warm the prince’s bed in exchange for a place to stay and food to eat.” His fingers curl into fists as his voice lowers. “You can’t change tune and expect me to believe you.”
Dig in deep. Don’t let him know how you feel. He wanted it as much as Phainon did that day, but the words cut deep, a scar embedded into his heart that pulsed blood with every beat. He was nothing but a warm, willing body for the Elysian prince to use.
“I messed up,” Phainon says, horrified. “I was in denial… This entire time, I thought—I believed you wanted to be with me too… not that I was forcing you. If you had told me no, I would have respected your wishes. Y-You thought that I would kick you out of your home if you refused? Mydei, I—”
“This isn’t my home.”
The devastation is clear. “You can’t… No, that’s not—This is your home! Aedes Elysiae is…”
“I don’t have a home…” Mydei murmurs softly as his fingers dig into the bedsheets. Oh, how he wishes he did. At the end of the long road, there is nothing.
“Mydei, please, that’s not true,” Phainon panics and clutches Mydei’s wrist, holding on tight as if afraid that once he lets go, Mydei will disappear. His eyes are blown wide, his voice pitched up. “I love you. Please. I’m not trying to deceive you. I screwed up, please—please believe me.”
Keeping his expression flat, Mydei stares up at Phainon. He readies himself. It should be easy. All he has to do is take the metaphorical dagger, slam it into Phainon’s chest, and twist the hilt. Tell Phainon he wants to break off this relationship and that he’s never cared to begin with.
Only the words don’t leave his lips. The corners of his eyes burn.
“Mydei…” Phainon says, clamping down tighter, hard enough to bruise. “Please.”
“Leave me be, Phainon.” That's all he can say. He pulls his robes tighter onto his body, covering himself from view.
“I…” Phainon trails off, letting go of Mydei’s wrist. “Okay. If that’s what you wish.”
Stubborn is how Phainon operates, yet this time, he gives in immediately. His act falls apart at the seams, and Mydei’s heart bleeds. Empty words, empty promises.
He will never be the one in Phainon’s heart. If Phainon truly loved him as he so claims, he would fight. He’s seen how ferocious Phainon can be, both on the battlefield and as a tactician. If Phainon wants something, he would continue to pursue, not give up and retreat, waving a white flag of surrender.
Silently, Mydei watches as Phainon turns to leave, as his gloved hand curls over the door handle. Phainon’s movements still as he gives one last glance, blue eyes reflecting a tidal wave of hurt before it’s schooled back into a neutral expression, only it doesn’t stay. His expression falls once more, a tremble to his lip.
It feels like his heart is being pulled out of his chest. He has never seen Phainon so upset. Angry, yes, but never looking so shattered as if Mydei had taken a hammer and broken him apart into unsalvageable pieces.
An act, Mydei reminds himself. This is only an act.
But before his brain can catch up, Mydei blurts out, “Wait.”
The mahogany door creaks open, and Mydei resigns himself to watching Phainon leave only for him to turn back once more.
“There is no purpose in changing this relationship,” Mydei continues, swallowing down the hurt. His desire to placate Phainon will always be his undoing. “It’s easier for the both of us to continue with what we’ve been doing. I don’t hate you for using me.”
“No purpose?” Phainon echos.
Mydei nods. “Yes.”
“How can you say that?” Phainon asks, hysterical. “I don’t want to use you… that’s never been the point of all this.”
With newfound determination, Phainon marches over and drops to his knees, blue eyes ablaze. “Let me take care of you. For one night, please. I want to make you feel good. I…” He cuts off, looking pleadingly at Mydei. “Please. I am not against begging. As long as you allow me this reprieve, I will do anything. You don’t have to return my feelings, I don’t expect you to but please, allow me to love you.”
Mydei shifts uncomfortably.
Say no, the voices inside him coo, Refuse this. Tell him you don’t love him. Lie to him.
But there’s that part of him that wants so badly to feel what it’s like to be loved, cherished by the man that he’s held these damning feelings for. He wants Phainon’s love and attention, even if it’s only for a night, even if the love is temporary, a fleeting dream that will never touch reality.
Phainon will wed. There is no more to their story.
In the end, he’s still weak.
Maybe the best option is to allow Phainon to do as he wishes. If he can wear him out tonight, then there will be an opportunity to escape. Everything is ready. All he needs is to find the right moment to run.
Phainon says he loves him, but he’s already found another to marry, someone who will be his true equal, not the spectre of a person that Mydei has become. They were never meant to be. Of course he entertained the thought on lonely nights, but it was only ever a fantasy.
Slowly, each movement agonizing, he pulls off his silken robes and lays himself bare for Phainon’s viewing. “Show me then… Actions speak louder than words.”
He shouldn’t. This is a mistake. Bearing the memories of this night will slowly destroy him from the inside out, but desire overcomes reason. For this night only, he will be the only one on Phainon’s mind.
Lock away his heart. Throw away the key. Phainon can do what he wishes. Mydei will bear the brunt of it, but never will he allow himself to believe.
The rest of the night passes in a flurry. Desperation tinges Phainon’s every movement. He devours Mydei’s lips, unwilling to break apart for even a moment’s breath. Words of empty love are chanted over and over as he presses soft kisses against feverish skin. His lips trail down the expanse of the crimson markings that bear Mydei’s legacy.
Blue eyes shine bright in single-minded devotion as he eats Mydei out until his world blurs, pleasure lighting up his nerves. Fingers snake into moonlight hair, back arching as moans slip from his parted lips. He loses himself in the sensations, the tongue licking into him, kissing and sucking his clit.
With each touch, each murmur of praise, the wound in his heart grows and weeps gold.
“You’re beautiful,” Phainon murmurs as he pulls away, lips glistening. “Everything about you is perfect.”
It’s not hard to play the willing lover when he craves the warmth, the affection, the devotion. Falling into the rhythm, even when he knows he’s not the only one. Selfish. That’s what he is. He will not share Phainon’s love.
Phainon fucks him slow and kisses him until dizzy. As if they have all the time in the world, he takes Mydei apart piece by piece until he’s gasping, thighs trembling as his hole flutters around nothing, begging to be filled.
Desire burns. Mydei rolls his hips to meet Phainon’s thrusts and wraps his legs tightly around Phainon’s muscled back, unwilling to let go. Eyelashes flutter, moans spill from swollen lips.
Hot. It burns . Phainon inside of him, filling and stretching. He feels everything at once, Phainon’s calloused hands roaming his body, the feel of him sheathed inside, the softness of his lips, and the unique taste of him.
Tears slip down feverish cheeks. For the first time in all his years, he allows himself this, allows this vulnerability. The tears fall freely, clouding his vision in a swirl of color. He feels so full, so warm, wrapped up in what is never meant for him.
“I love you,” Phainon whispers as he pulls Mydei into a desperate yet tender embrace. “You have my heart. I would do anything for you… So please—please stay by my side…”
The words burn. Empty and meaningless. Lust mistaken for love.
He will not be fooled.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mydei waits until Phainon is asleep. He’s memorized the other’s sleeping habits by now—how his breathing mellows when he’s asleep compared to when he’s pretending, the way his lips part and his body melts into the mattress.
Already, he’s made his preparations—a reliable horse, a good month’s worth of clothing, military rations, and savings he’s collected through the years. He has a few luxuries gifted by Phainon’s father he can sell for a good chunk of change if need be. If all else fails, he can live how he used to, scrounging for food and hunting game.
It’s now or never. The moment he’s been waiting for.
But he can’t deny the way his chest hurts nor ignore the stinging in his eyes. As he stares down the familiar hallway, the one he’s walked with Phainon thousands of times, his footsteps begin to stall. Each step grows more difficult until he nearly stumbles on his own two feet. It’s as if he’s being tethered by a force he can’t see. It pulls at him, spectral hands grabbing at his clothing, his hair, begging him to stay, whispering doubt into his ear.
No. He can’t afford to linger.
There are guards stationed at the main gate, and they will not allow for his escape. He supposes he can beat them in a fight, but that’d only cause a scene. The safest option is to sneak away to the stables. There should be no one there at this dark of an hour.
His gaze falls outside the tall palace walls, twinkling stars surround the bright halfmoon. The clouds have disappeared for the night. The sky, clear and dark, expands into the distance like an endless abyss. If he can make it out of the palace, he will be free.
Phainon’s spend drips steadily down his thighs. It makes a mess of his pants, staining the dark fabric. He’s tempted to shove the cum back in, to carry the last remnants of Phainon with him for as long as he possibly can.
He made a mistake. Now that he knows what Phainon’s love feels like, he doesn’t wish to leave anymore. To still hold onto these accursed feelings is a weakness he can’t afford, but there’s no use in crying over what has already happened.
If he can survive the sea of souls, torn apart and reforged thousands of times with no reprieve, then he can survive this.
He turns the corner, boots clacking against clean marble, only to be met with a pair of strong arms wrapping around his waist. He jerks and thrashes against the grip, legs kicking out to try to push the person off him. Powerful as he is, his attempts do nothing.
There’s only one person in the entire palace who has the ability to hold him back.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Mydei bites his lip. Fuck.
“Let me go ,” he hisses out as he continues to thrash, desperation growing with each push and pull. His fingernails dig crescents into Phainon’s forearms until he pierces skin, but Phainon doesn’t budge. A stark reminder of how strong Phainon is, how easily he can manhandle Mydei without breaking a sweat.
“No,” Phainon says, clutching on tighter. “I thought… I really thought maybe I could change your mind. If I showed you how much I cherished you, you would decide to stay.” A shadow is cast on his face as he tilts his head down, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “You’re so stubborn.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
“ Mydeimos. ”
A snarl rips out of Mydei’s throat. “Unhand me this instant.”
“Promise you won’t run, and I will.”
“Do you wish for a fight?” Mydei hisses. He hates how strong Phainon is, hidden beneath the layers of armor. “It’s been long since you’ve bested me in hand to hand combat.”
Phainon bares his teeth. “Bring it on.” He refuses to let go. Even when Mydei feigns a punch, he does not move, does not flinch, continuing to stubbornly hold on—a spoiled child refusing to part with their precious toy.
“Castrum Kremnos is constantly looking for war. If they find you’ve been housing me, then they will attack. I’ve already spoken with your father and mother—”
“They revealed your plans to me,” Phainon interrupts. He slots himself in the crook of Mydei’s neck and says, “Told me to stop you, said if I was worth the throne that I would.”
“Let go,” Mydei hisses, attempting to push down the rising panic, the squeezing of his chest. There’s no way. The king and queen are not that foolish.
Moonlight strands tickle Mydei’s neck as Phainon murmurs, “My parents adore you, Mydei. I thought it was obvious how much they loved you, but you’re a stubborn one.” Another laugh spills from his lips, fragile and fraying at the edges. The scorn is palpable—Mydei can’t stop the tremors that wrack his body. “Besides, you weren’t doing a good job at hiding your tracks. Cyrene found your stash. You wouldn’t fare well in espionage, my dear.”
“I’m not staying here,” Mydei bites out, hands shaking. “I can’t…” His voice cracks.
“Why can’t you stay here?” Phainon prods.
“I have to go.” With all of his strength, he wrangles all his energy and pushes hard against Phainon’s chest. Phainon stumbles back, while Mydei lands on the marble with a harsh thud.
Regardless of the sharp pain shooting up his backside, he jumps to his feet and glances around. He can make a run for it, but Phainon is fast, and he’s sure the guards must have already been called. His only choice is to appeal to reason, there’s no hiding it now.
“Mydei,” Phainon says, taking a hesitant step forward, acting as if he’s cornering an injured, wild animal. The motions make Mydei bristle. But that’s what he is, isn’t he? Nothing more than a caged animal, wishing for escape.
The corners of his eyes burn, and he roughly wipes at the edges. “You are slated to marry. You even told your father you found someone. Why do you insist on keeping me here? Our rivalry does not matter in the long run. Even if you say you have feelings for me… I will never be the one in your heart.”
There’s a barrier between them. Impenetrable. They live two worlds apart. A future king and an exiled prince.
The gears in Phainon’s head turn. “You were eavesdropping,” he states, piecing the puzzle together. “It’s no wonder I could have sworn I heard rustling and footsteps.”
“I couldn’t sleep. How was I supposed to know you were speaking in secret with your father?”
Phainon takes another step forward. Mydei takes a step back.
The corridors of the palace are long. He’s nowhere near any exits. In the veil of night, with all the lights dimmed, he can barely make out Phainon’s features. Good. That means Phainon can’t see him either.
“Don’t go. Let me explain.”
“I refuse to be your consort. You cannot keep me here.” The words fall out. What he’s held inside for months. His throat closes, the thoughts of Phainon with someone else a torment, but he puts on a brave front because he knows that if he doesn’t, this will all crumble.
He needs to leave.
Aedes Elysiae is not for him, has never been for him, even if he’s been told repeatedly otherwise. He’s an enemy of the nation, and under no circumstances does he wish to be Phainon’s consort or hidden toy, not when he’s nursing these feelings that threaten to pull him down under.
He doesn’t want to share Phainon. It’s easier to let this all go. Close this chapter in their lives. Phainon will move on. Though it feels like he’s being buried alive, he will too.
“I want to marry you. I spoke to my father about my plans to court and propose to you.”
Mydei freezes at those words, those falsehoods, only to melt when anger floods, an unrestrained wildfire. “Do you think me daft enough to believe in such lies?!”
“I’m not lying.”
“I am Kremnoan, the enemy of your—”
“Your father wants you dead the same way he wants all of Aedes Elysiae gone,” Phainon interjects. “You may be Kremnoan by blood, but do you feel Kremnoan?”
Mydei glares. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. I look Kremnoan. That alone means I am the enemy.” Kremnoans have a bad reputation everywhere. The citizens of Aedes Elysiae will not accept a Kremnoan on the throne.
A shake of his head. Phainon sighs. “Mydei… Why must you be like this?”
“I only speak the truth,” Mydei says evenly.
“I’ve wanted to marry you since the day I met you,” Phainon admits. “I even asked my father if I could have you. He didn’t take to it at first but, as the years continued, he slowly grew into the idea. He even started to pressure me to marry you sooner rather than later.”
“This is a mistake .” He should have never been allowed to live here.
“Do not call ‘us’ a mistake,” Phainon snaps back.
Mydei has never heard Phainon sound so angry. “I’m not referring to you.”
“Mydei… When I told you I loved you, I meant it. If you don’t feel the same, then I won’t force your hand. I can’t envision a life without you by my side. Trust me when I say, all I want is your safety. I can’t stop you from leaving, if you so wish, but please give me a chance to prove myself.” Phainon takes another step closer. “Will you allow me?”
He can hear the raw desperation, see the tremble of Phainon’s figure, the tension in his broad shoulders. “But my father—”
Phainon interrupts, “Castrum Kremnos will attack no matter what. With you here or you gone, they will attack regardless. When the time comes to face your father, we will stand together as one. You have a home here—with us, even if you don’t believe it.”
No matter what he says, it seems Phainon is ready to antagonize him at every turn.
“We’re stronger together than apart.” Phainon lets out a shaky breath. His expression twists, and the next words are forced out, each word driving daggers into his heaving chest. “If it is your wish to leave, I will prepare the best for you, so you can stay safe during your travels. At least, for tonight, stay.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Phainon doesn’t seek him out after that. Mydei is left to his own devices. He doesn’t try to seek Phainon out either. He stays in his bedroom, never braving outside the grand mahogany doors.
That night replays over and over in his mind. The desperation in Phainon’s voice as he begged. The realization that Phainon wanted to marry him… No. He won’t fall for it. It must be a joke or a pathetic attempt at keeping him here.
Phainon’s change of heart had been suspicious. He never cared for Mydei’s comfort nor has he ever shown that he wanted more for their relationship outside of the physical. It’s only in the past few months he’s changed tune, but it doesn’t make up for the years before. This is nothing but a ploy to get him to stay. His worth amounted to a political chesspiece, a pawn in the game between Aedes Elysiae and Castrum Kremnos.
Two days pass. No longer is he expected to eat with the royal family. All food is brought to him, luxurious and decadent as always, the finest meats and cheeses Amphoreus has to offer. He feels like a kept prisoner, a pet in a gilded cage.
Frustrated, he slams his fists against his desk. The door is right there, a few feet away. He should leave and get some fresh air instead of staying and rotting within the confines of his self-imposed prison. He pushes himself off his chair and stomps his way out of his room. His feet move on their own, down the hallway, past the armory rooms. He’s drawn to the private courtyard where the olive tree stands.
His fingers trace over the carving of their initials in the aged bark. Thick foliage covers the rays of the beaming sun as a soft bleeze rustles the leaves. He doesn’t know how long he stands there beneath the shade of the towering tree.
A sweet feminine voice breaks him out of his reprieve.
“Mydei~”
Mydei turns and greets, “Cyrene.”
The pink-haired princess bounces towards him with a brilliant smile on her sweet features. She’s dressed casual in her favorite dark purple and white off-shoulder dress. Her usual white ribbon is clipped to her pastel pink locks.
She practically jumps on him, hugging him tight.
“I know you’re planning on leaving,” she whispers into his ear.
“You’re the one that found my stash,” Mydei replies calmly.
Cyrene nods, a twinkle in her turquoise eyes. “I did! Beagle Coconut kicked up a fuss when I entered. He was trying to protect you.”
Beagle Coconut. His prized horse, unruly yet eager to please. He raised it as a foal, spending much of his time in the stable. To everyone else, the horse is a menace, but to Mydei, Beagle Coconut is the closest he has to family.
“Where would you go?” Cyrene pulls out of the embrace. “Do you have a plan?” When he refuses to respond, her expression falls. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”
She glances over at the markings on the tree. A nostalgic smile curves her lips. “Let me tell you a story.” She plops down onto the grass and pats the empty space next to her.
Mydei indulges her, sitting down beside her. He stretches his legs out, the soft grass tickling his bare skin.
“There once was a young prince,” Cyrene begins, humming a sweet tune. “He grew up with the expectations of being king, but never was his heart in it. He had dreams of travelling, exploring the world, and becoming a teacher to guide the next generation.” She bursts into giggles as she stares up at the clear, blue sky. “And then he met a special someone. It was a fateful spring day. That special someone called him an idealistic loser, then punched him in the face! It was love at first sight~”
Mydei raises an eyebrow.
“From then on out, the little prince changed. He worked diligently, always obeying his father’s commands, even if the burden had grown too much for his small shoulders to bear. You see, he wanted to be praised.” Cyrene’s eyes glitter in amusement like she’s privy to an inside joke. “His love was rather prickly, and he had very high standards. The little prince wanted to be acknowledged for his efforts—he wanted to be the best version of himself, so he could one day protect his love and everyone he cherished.”
Mydei takes in her words, but says nothing. Cyrene leans towards him, her eyes glinting as she plucks a stray leaf out of Mydei’s hair. She twirls it around in her hand, whistling as she waits for a response.
“The little prince is a fool, and love is fleeting. If his entire motivation to become a good king lies in a desire to be praised, then he should re-evaluate his choices. He should be a king for his people, not for a singular love,” Mydei says.
Cyrene throws her head back and groans. “Mydei!”
“I’m only being honest.” His heart skips a beat.
“Too honest,” she sighs. “I told Phainon to confess to you earlier, but he kept giving excuses about how he wanted to court you properly first and how he wanted preparations to be perfect. He was adamant about keeping everything a secret.”
Song birds chirp melodiously in the distance. A plump ladybug crawls on the grass, and Cyrene scoops it up, smiling as it crawls over her fingers.
“He’s had his eyes on you for years. I remember back when he tried to deny it,” Cyrene giggles as she stares down at the black-spotted creature. “It was hard to watch. But as his sister, I want him to be happy. As your friend, I want you to be happy too…”
Mydei turns and stares at the carving on the tree. Phainon has always been sticky, vying to include Mydei in everything. It confused him why Phainon insisted he also learn politics and the rules of becoming king. At first, he believed it was nothing more than pity for an exiled prince, but now, it seems Phainon had envisioned them ruling together.
“He’s only ever wanted to be with you,” Cyrene says, her hand outstretched, smiling as the ladybug flies away. “From the moment you two met, I could tell. You may think he’s foolish, but my brother is steadfast.”
A gentle hand moves onto his shoulder. Cyrene’s expression grows somber, and her voice, while still light and melodic, takes a more earnest tone. “Even now, he still strives for your approval. So talk to him, will you? A real, honest conversation. That way… if you choose to leave, there will be no burden, no hard feelings.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Mydei stands outside Phainon’s bedroom. His hand hovers over the wood. Hesitantly, he knocks.
In this part of the palace, carvings border the walls, curved floral designs that wrap around symbolic depiction of the titans. Decadence lines every corner from the gold encrusted pillars to the crystal chandeliers to the murals painted by Amphoreus’ most legendary artists. Phainon’s room is located in this hall, situated in the main structure palace, while Mydei’s room is in the west wing.
Originally, Phainon wanted Mydei to move in with him. They could share the same bedroom—it’s big enough for the both of them, Phainon had said—but Mydei refused and, instead, took a smaller room meant for visiting nobles.
He rarely ventures here. It’s out of the way and not a place meant for him.
Cyrene’s words continuously buzz in his head. She’s not one to spin lies, even if she does have a penchant for decorating her words, fluffing them up until they sound pretty.
Phainon hadn’t been lying. It makes him wonder how long they’ve spent circling around each other instead of speaking honestly. Mydei knows he’s been too in his own head about his father to try to see Phainon’s point of view.
There’s no answer. Mydei’s heart thunders in his chest, and his palms become clammy. He knocks again. It’s possible Phainon isn’t even in his room, rather he could be anywhere in the palace at this time of day. If there’s no answer, then Mydei will leave and try again later.
This time, he doesn’t have to wait long.
Slowly, the door creaks open. Phainon stands listlessly in front of him. It’s as if the sun had burned out—no longer does Phainon radiate light. Dark eyebags decorate his undereyes, deeply contrasting with the pallor of his skin and messy moonlight hair. He’s dressed in rumpled robes, looking as if he had just woken up.
Never has Mydei seen the crown prince in this state of disarray.
“Mydei,” Phainon greets, attempting a smile. The corners of his lips twitch in protest, and he drops the smile in exchange for a blank, almost lifeless expression.
If he didn’t believe Cyrene’s words, he surely does now. Panic bursts in his chest. “I’ll stay,” he says, breathless.
Phainon blinks, swaying a little as he balances himself against the doorframe. “Huh?” It takes a few moments for Mydei’s words to register, but when it does, his eyes blow wide and he grabs Mydei by the shoulders, shaking him. “Really?! Mydei, you’re serious? Tell me you’re being serious—this isn’t a dream?”
“Yes, I’m serious,” A blush burgeons on his cheeks. “Now stop gawking at me before I change my mind.”
It’s like a switch has been flipped. The corners of Phainon’s eyes crinkle as he grins. He pats himself down in an attempt to make himself look more presentable before he takes a step forward and says, “Can I kiss you?”
Mydei raises an eyebrow. He almost wants to laugh. “Really? That’s the first thing on your mind?”
Phainon nods enthusiastically like an overexcited puppy, his metaphorical tail wagging behind him. Seeing Phainon’s wide smile, the bright twinkle of his beautiful blue eyes, makes Mydei realize how much he’s missed this—missed Phainon’s warming presence. These past few days, living in the empty of his bedroom with only his thoughts as company, he’s grown used to the cold.
Normally, Phainon would be the one to initiate. He would drag Mydei by the back of his neck or by the collar into a forceful, hungry kiss. Phainon would devour him, and Mydei would return suit, equally as ravenous. But now, Phainon stands there, staring at Mydei with wide expectant eyes while not moving a centimeter.
“What are you waiting for?” Mydei asks, crossing his arms. The flush on his face has only grown more noticeable. He’s probably red as a tomato by now.
“Waiting for you to say yes,” Phainon replies. He pauses then quickly adds, “I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
Infuriating . Mydei’s lips quirk up, fondness lighting up his eyes. Even if Phainon is willing to wait, he isn’t. He closes the distance and grabs Phainon by cheek, startling the other, and pulls him into a kiss.
It’s slower this time. Phainon moves hesitantly like he’s afraid of making the wrong move and losing everything. There’s no biting, no rush to take control, none of that push and pull. It’s no longer a fierce battle, but a measured dance.
Strong arms wrap around his waist. He can feel the tremor of Phainon’s figure, the flutter of his eyelashes. Phainon holds onto him, unwilling to let go for even a moment, yet he doesn’t try to force his way. Instead, he allows Mydei to take the lead.
Phainon’s lips are soft, feverish against his own. The familiar scent of bergamot and citrus fills his senses and the warmth of the hands on his body has him melting into Phainon’s embrace.
At this moment, there’s only the two of them, and Mydei finds himself believing Phainon’s words. They’re stronger together than apart.
His mind grows hazy, senses enveloped by Phainon and Phainon alone. He wants this kiss to last forever. This time, it’s real, no longer a wistful dream or desperate fantasy.
Mydei is the first to pull away, breathing heavily as he presses their foreheads together.
“Does that answer your question?” he murmurs. His golden eyes are soft in the bright light of the palace, brimming with affection. No longer does he have to hide his true feelings behind a veil of indifference.
“Yes.” Phainon stares at Mydei in awe as he slowly laces their fingers together. His words come out shaky, breathless. “Thank you, Mydei. For giving me this chance. For allowing me to love you the way I should have since the beginning. I… I want to prove myself to you.”
Mydei smiles, the faintest quirk of his lips. “You better get to it then. I have high standards, you know.”
Phainon grins brightly, and Mydei’s heart dances in his chest. Phainon’s smile lights up his day like no other. He wants to keep Phainon smiling for as long as he can, wants to stay by Phainon’s side and grow old together.
It’s now that Mydei comes to the realization of what he’s denied for so long.
Home is where Phainon is, Mydei thinks. He was a fool to believe otherwise.