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Chapter Text

≪ Month of Fortune ≫

Phainon’s life changed permanently on a simple, chilly day near the end of the Scarlet Month.

This Month of Fortune had been a particularly exhausting one. While Phainon wasn’t really part of Okhema’s law-enforcement, his status as the mighty Deliverer and his rapport with the Okheman people made Lady Aglaea deem it necessary for him to solve many of their troubles. The trickster Zagreus had inspired the hearts of far more gamblers and merchants than in the previous Month of Fortune, so Phainon’s daily schedule for the Scarlet Month began with the first quint of the Entry Hour and ended at the last quint of the Parting Hour. The alpha had practically been running on fumes for the trickster’s month, and that fatigue had only increased when whispers that an army of Castrum Kremnos was heading towards Okhema began swirling around the Throne of World’s beloved city-state.

Suffice to say, Phainon’s exhaustion increased tenfold when Lady Aglaea called him to the Hero’s Bath to confirm the rumors. Lady Trianne had plenty of sympathy for Phainon, but the Goldweaver had no mercy for the man’s sorry state, and she sent him off with a warning to be prepared to confront the approaching Kremnoans after the next three Entry Hours. The blue-eyed man did his best to prepare for every possible confrontation with what few quints were spared to him. What free time he had was spent researching in the Garden of Life, skimming through the numerous records of the tumultuous relationship of the Bloodbathed Battlefront and the Eternal Holy City. Unfortunately for Phainon, the days passed in a breeze despite his earnest attempts to rest and recover- Okheman thieves had no qualms about wasting the white-haired alpha’s precious time with their petty crimes. So there Phainon was, waiting thousands of units outside of Okhema while Lady Trianne and Lady Aglaea supported him from a (very generous) distance. 

As Kephale’s Dawnlight beat down on the alpha, and as the synchronized marching of a well-organized army grew louder, Phainon couldn’t help but briefly wish he were also a bystander assigned to the shade. He had just enough time to send a half-hearted prayer to the Worldbearer, a quiet plea that the alpha will be home before today’s Curtain-Fall Hour, before the band of Kremnoan soldiers halted themselves in front of him.

When Phainon was a young boy in a small coastal village, he had dreamt of traveling to the city of warriors and training until he became a valiant knight. That dream had only grown stronger after his early presentation and his subsequent pheromone-blocking, for the rumors of a city where neither scent nor cycle held its people back became a desperate goal to reach. At the time, Phainon had assumed this meant that nearly all Kremnoans were alphas, fighters who would reek of scents as strong as Phainon’s own without a collar in sight. The children of Strife may have been known as packs upon packs of bloodthirsty warriors, but a younger Phainon felt he could look past that if it meant he had a place where he could freely walk with his glands uncovered. 

The arrival of the people of Castrum Kremnos made Phainon come to an entire series of revelations.

For one, the alpha was shocked when he realized he couldn’t smell a single person in the crowd. Even as the rows of soldiers began shuffling back, parting like an ocean for a single figure to begin walking through, Phainon couldn’t sniff out a single pheromone no matter how hard he strained his nose.

This came to his second realization: Phainon had no idea if there was a single alpha in this assembly. He had no knowledge of Kremnoan culture for secondary genders, and with no scents to go off, Phainon was running blind. Every soldier dressed similarly, carried themselves with the same disciplined posture, and all deferred equally to the man pushing his way through.

Phainon’s final realization was that the leader of this pack may have been one of the most attractive men he had ever laid eyes on.

His windswept blonde locks looked as if they had been dyed in blood, and those feline eyes glittered like a vibrant amber. His rippling muscles, immodestly uncovered by what few black and red robes he bothered to wear, tapered into a thin waist that gave the man a rather conspicuous outline. All of his gold and copper accessories shone brilliantly under Kephale’s Dawnlight, enough so that they nearly blinded Phainon. As Phainon allowed himself to unabashedly stare at the ribbons of red that ran across his body (more specifically the ones underneath his chest and towards his navel), he barely even noticed his colleagues stepping up to his sides. Titans above, Phainon thought helplessly, of course this man has to come forth as my enemy.

His useless ears failed to register most of the conversation that took place between Lady Aglaea, Lady Trianne, and the man who declared himself Mydeimos, prince of Castrum Kremnos and son of Gorgo. It was like the white-haired man’s vision had suddenly tunneled onto the blonde in front of him and could register little more than the deep, dulcet tone of his voice. Phainon wasn’t sure how long he was there for, honestly; it felt like he could’ve just sat through all five quints of the day’s Entry Hour and yet it also felt as if no time had passed at all. All he suddenly knew was that his name was called, a gauntleted hand pointed at him and declared Phainon his enemy, and the alpha had practically a split-second to manifest his greatsword and block the swing of a fist at his face.

Phainon didn’t remember if he said a single word, but he was painfully aware of the clash of bronze against iron, of being met blow for blow, and of the adrenaline in his gut slowly building into something resembling excitement. Each strike of metal came with sparks, along with the growing realization that Phainon, for the first time ever, had an opponent he was using his full strength on. Not a single movement could be held back, for Mydeimos had the eyes of a hawk, always scoping the alpha out for a single weakness. If Phainon was about to trip, Mydeimos was there to ensure it was a painful fall. If Phainon’s grip slackened on his sword, Mydeimos would come up close to attempt to disarm him. Restraint couldn’t be afforded here, for the payment of it would surely be Phainon’s life- and how thrilling was that? Phainon could barely hear the crowd of Kremnoans cheering their mighty prince on; he could barely hear his own thoughts over his blood pounding in his ears. The blue-eyed alpha’s rising mania granted him the first blood drawn, quickly followed by Mydeimos claiming the second count, and the two men immediately jumped back. They began circling each other, movements practically synchronized, and more cautious than wary.

Mydeimos brought his bicep up to his mouth, cleaning up the golden blood leaking down it with a single swipe of his tongue. Those amber eyes never left Phainon’s, not even for a second, and it sent a shiver down Phainon’s spine. “So you too bleed gold,” Phainon noted. His voice echoed across the clearing, and Phainon was far too invested to care about how eager he sounded.

Mydeimos huffed at him, lowering himself into a crouch, clearly readying to strike. “‘Too?’” the blonde replied. “That implication surely means that I have no reason to hold back.”

Phainon grinned at Mydeimos, shamelessly baring his fangs, and didn’t bother to lick up the golden blood that was beginning to trickle out of his nose. “If you haven’t already been giving this your all,” he mused, “Then you are foolishly underestimating me. Perhaps you aren’t as intelligent as I initially assumed.”

The provocation landed exactly as intended. Mydeimos snarled at that, hissing like a predator, and it made Phainon’s inner alpha sing. Phainon was sure he’d be aghast at his behavior once the adrenaline faded, but that was a problem for his future self. With raised hackles, Mydeimos was quick to bruteforce his way into Phainon’s vulnerable space, and Phainon didn’t realize the man was on him until his face was already shoved in the dirt. In an act of pure muscle memory Phainon rolled over and flung the prince off of him, granting himself just enough time to prepare his blade as Mydeimos tossed himself back at him.

For a while, keeping up with Mydeimos was all Phainon could do. With each passing quint, however, Mydeimos's movements became more and more familiar. The distance of his swipes and lunges, once judged by hasty guesses, became things Phainon not only predicted but also were ready to defend against. What had been desperate actions to regain equal footing had become something like a dance, and his mind’s delirious thought was quickly welcomed by his howling hindbrain. The infuriated glare that had coated Mydeimos's face began to look more like a goading smirk, a question- no. Like a challenge to do better, to be better, to prove himself worthy under the golden eyes directed at Phainon and Phainon alone.

Something itched at the back of Phainon’s mind- a tart, woody smell he couldn’t quite place- but he quickly brushed the thought away. The alpha wouldn’t dare risk faltering under the weight of Mydeimos's expectations.

Before this fateful day in the Scarlet Month, Phainon had never met a man, alpha or otherwise, who could keep up with him in a fight. Today, the battle ground Mydeimos provided was practically giftwrapped with a bow. Under the Kremnoan’s watchful gaze, Phainon found himself bolder and braver than ever. Moves he wouldn’t dare practice on someone else were released into a perfect training ground, and he was both shocked and delighted when Mydeimos let out an approving grunt after a particularly daring swipe forced the Kremnoan nearly ten units away. The crown prince shot the alpha a considering look before getting blocked out by the sudden wall of red crystals shooting out from the ground. Phainon took multiple hits from that unexpected move, and had he been more grounded, perhaps he would’ve been furiously wondering how his opponent got such an obscene ability. Instead, Phainon felt a wild grin tug his mouth, the exhilaration of it all forcing a deranged laugh out of his mouth. Finally, was all Phainon could think. Look at me, hit me, miss me, was what Phainon’s inner alpha begged. I am your equal. I am your match. No one else can do what I can do for you.

It was a delirious mishmash of thoughts, for sure, but it was an enticing thought. Phainon had been so enthralled by the concept and the man in front of him that he didn’t even notice the gold threads that wrapped themselves around him. Both the alpha and their opponent were forced to the ground, laid side-by-side, and Phainon couldn’t help but smile when he saw Mydeimos's final attempted kick at him. His simmering blood began to cool against his will, and the longer they laid there, panting and drenched in sweat, the more exhaustion fought to claim them. Phainon blearily squinted up at the World Bearer’s light. The blue-eyed man had no idea how much time had passed, but he felt that if he succumbed to temptation and closed his eyes, they wouldn’t open for at least a week.

As if an answer to his questions, Lady Aglaea’s calm voice echoed across the field. “Greetings,” she spoke, high heels clacking until she stopped in front of them. “Welcome to the fifth day of the Month of Gate.”

Phainon blinked in shock. Fifth day? The Goldweaver was not one to lie over simple observations of time, which meant that… he and Mydeimos had fought for- what? Ten days and ten nights? How in Kephale’s name had they even survived so long without food or water?

The alpha rolled his head to the side, once again finding his opponent, but this time without the heat of their spar clouding his vision. Prince Mydeimos was drenched in sweat- far more than Phainon, surprisingly- and clumps of his hair clung to his neck like a needy lover. The man’s red-flushed cheeks were smushed into the dirt, mixing with the drying rivers of golden blood on his face. His amber eyes were cloudier than Phainon remembered them initially being, and both his voluptuous chest and blood-red tattoos heaved with each of his breathless pants. Phainon’s gaze leered to the man’s side, where he could see his arms tied behind his back, pinned there by Aglaea’s golden binds, and Phainon felt his breath hitch in his throat.

The sight was… far more erotic than it had any right being, and Phainon grimaced when he felt himself hardening inside his pants. What a horrid way to introduce himself. The only comfort he got came from the fact that no one could smell his pheromones right now, for if they could, he would basically be blasting his arousal to both his colleagues and an entire city-state’s worth of people. It was a miracle that his leather collar hadn’t slipped during such a long fight.

With a delicate roll of Aglaea’s wrist, Phainon and Mydeimos were freed from their binds, and Phainon was quick to force himself onto his feet. He stumbled over to Aglaea’s side with all the grace of a newborn calf, and nearly tripped when Aglaea’s eyes darted to his pants with a disapproving frown. She had enough mercy to allow him to hide behind her, at least, and Phainon miserably allowed himself the comfort that Lady Trianne was nowhere in sight. Aglaea was quick to get everyone on track; Mydeimos should not make any decisions in such an exhausted state, she had decided, and negotiations for the rights of the Kremnoan people (and what the hell was that? That’s why Lady Aglaea made him fight the prince?) were postponed until after the crown prince could get some proper rest.

It was only after Aglaea led Phainon into Okhema’s pearly white streets that Phainon noticed the sudden absence of pomegranate that had drenched the earth where Phainon and Mydeimos fought.

Chapter Text

≪ Month of Gate ≫

At the end of the month of Calamity, Okhema’s Deliverer and Castrum Kremnos’ crown prince were opponents on the battlefield.

Now, halfway through the Month of Gate, Phainon was proud to say that he and Mydeimos, Son of Gorgo, he who was crowned in blood, and so on and so forth are now allies- warriors brought together in the name of the Flame Chase. It was fitting for the first month of the Fate Season, and Janus was surely smiling down upon them.

Even if Mydeimos didn’t seem notably dedicated to the Chrysos Heirs’ mission. Which is fine! Despite the (severe) lack of enthusiasm, Mydeimos’ undying might was an incredible boon for their efforts. The Kremnoan was so useful that Phainon no longer had to handle every long-distance skirmish on his own, and the down time that provided the alpha was immensely welcome.

What Phainon appreciated most of all, however, was that Lady Aglaea no longer sent the Deliverer to fight on his own.

When Phainon used to combat waves of corrupted titankin, he was used to being the only living, breathing thing for kilometers. The battlefield would echo of his greatsword clashing against marble and steel, and the burden of mending his wounds by his lonesome before returning to the holy city was as familiar as the back of his hand. Honestly, the alpha hadn’t even realized how badly he craved the presence of another until Mydeimos was fighting by his side.

Where there was once a chill at Phainon’s back was now a soothing warmth, a heat provided only by the mighty body of Castrum Kremnos’ finest warrior. Where Phainon would stumble and fall, forced to throw himself back up before he became easy pickings, there now was a barrier of bloody crystals protecting him. Phainon didn’t want to even try to remember how he managed to soldier through every battle before on his lonesome. With Mydeimos at his back, the alpha was dispatching the black tide’s forces at record speeds. And even though the two men didn’t know each other that well, Phainon trusted Mydeimos would cover him every moment spent together on the battlefield.

Their practice arena, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. Mydeimos was as merciless against corrupted titankin as he was against Phainon during their spars. There was no such thing as “taking it easy” with the Kremnoan prince, and Phainon lived for it. It had taken a full two weeks of pestering to get Mydeimos to join him for training, but the results were more than worth it. Mydeimos rarely pulled his punches, never overlooked any openings in Phainon’s defenses, and on no occasion did the warrior pass an opportunity to take the advantage- it was what made victory all the more delectable when the alpha could achieve it, and was the exact reason why Phainon was celebrating his win today. Mydeimos had forced Phainon to work for it harder than ever, but considering how the blonde had carried a three-win streak into their spar, Phainon refused to let it grow any longer.

Normally, a spar of theirs could take anywhere between one and three quints.

Today, their spare lasted through the entire Lucid hour, and only ended when Phainon pinned Mydeimos to the earth, tip of his greatsword digging into the man’s neck. With his victory on the horizon, the white-haired alpha chose to ignore the throbbing in his left-hand, muscles tensed in anticipation for any unexpected retaliation. The Kremnoan had more than a few quick moves that could easily swipe Phainon off his feet and resume their battle once more.

Instead of striking out, however, Mydeimos suddenly relaxed into the ground, blonde hair splayed beneath him like Kephale’s dawnlight. “I yield, Deliverer,” the man announced, tapping Phainon’s blade with a single claw. For losing his win streak, the smirk on his face looked awfully self-assured. “So take your blade off my scent glands.”

Phainon blinked. Was he actually cutting into Mydeimos’ scent glands? The Elysian could’ve sworn he had held the blonde at his jugular, but a glance confirmed that his greatsword was indeed weighing on the other’s glands. It was… extremely inappropriate behavior for a pretend-fight. The alpha couldn’t help his grimace.

Phainon sheathed his weapon, and he had been about to apologize for the dishonorable move when Mydeimos suddenly swung his heel into Phainon’s ankle, sweeping the man onto his back with an undignified snort. “Let this be your lesson to never let your guard down,” the prince declared, clear mirth in his tone. Phainon didn’t hold back his scoff- and this man dared to claim Kremnoans stood for honor on the battlefield? What a cheat! Mydeimos, already sensing Phainon’s pending rebuttal, slapped a gauntleted palm over the alpha’s mouth. “I still deem this your win regardless, Deliverer. Spare me your debates- save them for the Council of Elders instead.”

Phainon was willing to accept that. The blue-eyed alpha attempted to push himself up, but winced when his palm faltered under his own weight. With his win cemented, all the adrenaline had left his body, and now there was nothing to dull the spark of pain. A simple injury like that wouldn’t be enough to keep Phainon from gloating over his victory, though!

Alas, it turned out some chiding words from Mydeimos could.

“Deliverer,” the Kremnoan drawled out, eyes narrowed at his hand. “Is there a reason your hand won’t stop twitching?” Phainon peeked at his left hand, and indeed, it was spasming. Most reasonably due to the throbbing pain seeping through his palm and digging into his wrist.

Perhaps the alpha pushed himself a little too far in the thrill of the fight.

Phainon flashed a boyish smile at his unimpressed companion. “It’s but a small price to pay for today’s victory,” the alpha jeered, grin only widening at the blonde’s responding eye roll. Mydeimos grabbed Phainon’s hand and yanked it towards him, uncaring of the alpha’s pained yelp. With his typical precision, Mydei started rolling out the muscles in Phainon’s hand, unresponsive to how the alpha stiffened at their sudden proximity.

For a fleeting moment, Phainon wasn’t sure if he was more jealous of Mydei’s nonchalance towards their closeness, or more embarrassed by his own excitement over it. A moment like this couldn’t be wasted, however; Mydeimos rarely let Phainon’s eyes linger on him for too long. The warrior’s instincts were top-notch on and off the battlefield, and he always caught the alpha’s stares no matter how much Phainon disguised them.

Would it truly hurt Mydeimos to allow Phainon the time to appreciate the Kremnoan’s potent body? It’s not the Elysian’s fault that the crown prince had such a conspicuous body. But at this distance… Phainon’s thoughts began to trail off. He had wanted a simple (respectful!) eyeful of his sparring partner’s body, but his nose picked up something far more interesting.

Phainon had never had the chance to smell Mydeimos. All Kremnoans seemed to have a non-existent scent and sense of smell, which is why (as far as Phainon was aware) they had no use for scent blockers. Phainon wasn’t sure if even a rut or heat inducer could pull out a Kremnoan’s pheromones, which was a mind boggling concept- Phainon couldn't help his small bit of envy over it. The point was, until now, the alpha had assumed nothing could trigger a Kremnoan’s scent.

Perhaps it had been Phainon’s blade against the blonde’s scent glands, or maybe it was the copious amounts of sweat their bodies were drenched in, but one thing was clear: for the first time ever, Phainon was able to smell Mydeimos.

Admittedly Phainon was straining himself to get even a whiff of it, but now that he had it, the scent was undeniable. The sweet smell of pomegranate wafting off of the crown prince, with a tangy, juicy ripeness in its presence, was scratching an itch in Phainon’s mind that he didn’t realize he even had. And it was… unbecoming of him to be so eager over his colleague’s smell, but even if he tried to curb the impulse, Phainon doesn’t think he’d be able to stop. No one fought in the practice arena besides the alpha and the crown prince, and considering how Phainon’s scent was religiously covered since he first presented, Mydeimos’ pheromones were quite literally the only thing that could be smelled.

Phainon nervously took a glimpse of Mydeimos’ face. The prince had his head bent towards Phainon’s hand, massaging the alpha’s palm so deeply that he had to grit his teeth. Clearly, Mydeimos was happy to ignore Phainon for now. If the Kremnoan was so focused, then would he mind if Phainon…?

The Elysian swayed towards his companion- nothing too noticeable, of course; just a slight thing, a motion that let him drift closer to the crown prince’s sweaty neck. Heart pounding in his chest, Phainon glanced nervously at the other man, and still Mydeimos didn’t respond. That was all the alpha needed to let his eyes close and savor what he could of the warrior’s pheromones.

Phainon had naturally wondered what the Kremnoan might smell like. In his daydreams, the alpha assumed it’d have the sharp edge of iron, the sparks of metal clashing against metal, or perhaps the stench of blood drying on an empty battlefield. Everything he came up with were scents that would make even alpha instincts wilt, something worthy of dominating anyone who dared stand in the crown prince’s way.

Mydeimos’ scent carried none of those things. Every single fragrance that intertwined with the pomegranate was strong, expectedly so, but surprisingly soothing. Phainon could practically taste the golden honey that underlied the tangy fruit, and just beneath that earthy nectar was a hint of… Phainon leaned just a little closer. Jasmine, was it? Overall, it was far sweeter than the alpha could’ve guessed, but somehow still as musky as he was hoping it’d be. Phainon stole another greedy inhale, far more appreciative than all the breaths that came before it. The alpha had never smelled something quite like this, a scent so delicious it made his mouth water and his fangs ache, a cologne that beckoned Phainon even closer so that he could lick all the way up to source, and then bite down and take-

“Ha!” Mydeimos suddenly barked out. Phainon’s heart dropped in his chest, startled out of his trance. “I knew it!” Kephale above, how in the world did Phainon get so close to Mydeimos without realizing? The alpha was practically looming over the crown prince by now! As the alpha ripped himself away, he threw a silent prayer to any Titan listening that Mydeimos somehow didn’t notice a thing.

“I could tell you let your guard down after you failed to parry one of my punches,” Mydeimos scoffed, sounding more triumphant than ever. “You put too much of your blade’s weight into your other hand when you recovered.” Phainon could only reply with a wide-eyed stare.

On one hand, the alpha was so painfully relieved that Mydeimos hadn’t noticed anything. He’d need to send a prayer of gratitude to every single Titan later and then repent for all his shamelessness. On the other hand, Phainon was stunned. Mydeimos certainly targeted such a blatant weakness in their fight, yet the alpha had come out victorious anyways. Pride bubbled up in Phainon before the Kremnoan’s amused snort broke the alpha out of his ecstasy. “Don’t get too cocky, Deliverer,” Mydeimos warned. “You may have won today’s spar, but I already proved how easily you could have scored a fourth consecutive loss.”

Phainon pouted at the blonde. “Would it kill you to let me relish in my victory?” he whined, now trying to tug his hand out of Mydeimos’ grip. “You wouldn’t give me praise even if I got on my knees and begged for it; spare me this moment of indulgence.”

Mydeimos clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I will grant you praise if you have earned it,” the prince corrected. He rolled his shoulders back, blonde and red braid thumping against his collarbone. “Consider this your ‘reward’ for today’s victory.”

With that, Mydeimos dug his fingers harshly into Phainon’s palm, making the Elysian choke on his own spit. Why the hell did the Kremnoan do that with his Titans-damned gauntlets on!? Phainon’s palm could’ve bled out all over their glorious practice arena! “What in Kephale’s divine name was that for!?” Phainon cried, finally ripping his hand out of Mydeimos’ own.

The blonde raised an unimpressed brow at him, then gestured at Phainon’s brutally sore hand. “Does it hurt anymore?” Mydeimos dryly asked. Who gave him such obscene audaciousness!? What values did they instill in Castrum Kremnos!?

The white-haired man was about to scoff that yes, his hand does fucking hurt after such brutal treatment, but the growing numbness in his hand killed the words in his throat. Phainon pressed his thumb into his palm, shocked that the pain was receding. “It… doesn’t hurt much now, no,” Phainon confessed, voice alight with awe. How remarkable. Mydeimos was awfully talented with his hands. Phainon momentarily wondered what else the Kremnoan could do with them.

Mydeimos followed up Phainon’s gratitude with a mere huff. If the alpha were anyone else, he would’ve presumed Mydeimos was upset, but Phainon knew the blonde well enough to catch his pleased tone. “Exactly as expected,” Mydeimos hummed. “I’ve noticed us alphas have a vulnerable pressure point in our palms.” Wait. What? Hold on just a moment- “It’s a weakness when struck in battle, but a proper massage of it can relieve most pains in the hand.” Who the fuck even cares about that? There’s something way more important that Phainon needs to confirm, but Mydeimos had already stood up, done with the day’s training.

Phainon grabbed Mydeimos’ wrist, halting him mid-step. “Before you go!” the blue-eyed man blurted out, desperate for reasons beyond him. “Did you say us alphas? Are you also an alpha, Mydeimos?”

Mydeimos raised a judgemental eyebrow at him. “Is there a problem with me being an alpha, Deliverer?” the Kremnoan questioned, an unnecessary hint of warning in his tone. No, there was no problem, not at all. In fact, the very thought of it sent a thrill through Phainon, exciting his usually dormant inner alpha.

“There are no problems at all, Mydeimos!” Phainon was quick to ease, inflecting a soothing tone in his voice. “Honestly, I just had no idea what you were. That noble body of yours suggested you were an alpha, but without any scent to go off of-” because Mydeimos didn’t need to know about Phainon’s unbecoming scenting, “-All I had were my educated guesses.”

That answer only increased Mydeimos’ stern judgement. The blonde grunted out, “Then you are worse with your observations than I previously thought.” Ouch.

The Kremnoan- the alpha Phainon’s mind corrected- tugged his arm out of the Elysian’s slackening grip. “If your embarrassing astonishment is finished, I must attend to the Kremnoan detachment,” Mydeimos said. “I will be with my people until tomorrow’s Entry Hour, so withhold your pestering for any bathing excursions.” Phainon’s face fell. Well…there went his plans for the Parting Hour. His countenance must’ve been pitiful enough to sway even Mydeimos’ severe heart, for the crown prince quickly tacked on “We may bathe tomorrow, Deliverer. Do yourself a favor and cease looking like a kicked chimera.”

With that so thoughtfully decided- without any of said Deliverer’s input- Mydeimos turned around and stalked off, taking what little of his pomegranate scent there was with him.

≪ Month of Balance ≫

Phainon would like it to be known that he was a man of many hobbies.

Like all pups born in Aedes Elysiae, Phainon was well-versed in farming, crafting, and poetry. But as a child, his heart sang for an adventure that the small village was incapable of providing, so it was no surprise he spent his days playing hero in the wheat fields, secretly skipping his classes, and talking to the fairies with Cyrene.

Now an adult, the alpha was proud to say he spent his leisure time partaking in more respectable pastimes. Perhaps he wasn’t an author such as Lady Castorice, and he wouldn’t dare attempt designing like Lady Aglaea, but enjoying simple activities with the common folk had greatly contributed to his rapport with the Eternal Holy City.

Whenever Phainon managed to free some time in his busy schedule, he typically spent it immersed in Okhema’s crowds. Okhemans knew they could easily find their beloved Deliverer in the Marmoreal Marketplace at every shop and stall, making his purchases while chatting up familiar faces. Out of all its businesses, Phainon’s bias for Theodoros’ wares was no secret. The alpha was happy to be buried waist-deep in shipments of unseen artifacts. If there was nothing new to browse, the white-haired man would attempt to appraise what Theodoros had in stock. It was one of Phainon’s favorite pastimes, even if (as Mydeimos had kindly put it) he was “laughably unskilled” at it.

At least Theodoros knew better than to mock his number one customer.

If Phainon wasn’t in the marketplace, there were some other places he could be found. Phainon and Mydeimos shared daily excursions at their private training arena. Spending most of his training side by side with Kremnoan royalty had only made him more enthusiastic about upholding this routine, and the results from a month of training together were already visibly worth the work. If Mydeimos was unavailable to spar, Phainon might be found in the Garden of Life, sunbathing with a pack of chimeras or reading on one of the lilypads. And if not in any of those locations, Phainon was either asleep on his kline or bathing in the Marmoreal Palace. Suffice to say, while his daily activities may not be as dignified as those of some of his colleagues, the diversity of it all was something Phainon took great pride in. Regardless if a certain crown prince sometimes teased him for it.

Today, on a brisk day nearing the end of the Month of Balance, Phainon was resting in a shaded area off the streets of the Marmoreal Marketplace. The alpha had chosen to spend his day off swarmed by the small crowd of children who normally loitered on the streets. Phainon could rarely turn down any requests from the city-state’s pups, and on his own he simply enjoyed being around children. On good days, running around with the kids and feeling them crawl over him reminded him of easy days in golden wheat fields. On bad days, their sunny smiles and laughter reminded Phainon of what he was fighting for, who he was hoping to protect. And, if Phainon were to be entirely honest with himself, playing babysitter allowed him to play pretend of his dream to sire pups of his own.

It’d be a lie to say Phainon hadn’t thought about settling down and raising a family one day. The alpha didn’t often allow himself to think about after the Flame Chase, as he preferred to focus on the present instead. But when the Elysian allowed it, his thoughts were of simple, mundane things: moving out of his chambers into a cozy home with a mate, returning from work to the happy cries of his children and the tender smile of a partner, of falling asleep to the snores of his loved ones.

A few nights ago, the alpha had dreamt up a fantasy where two of his children were resting in his arms, one blonde and one snowy-haired, while his faceless mate had been asleep against his side, yellow-red hair tickling his scent glands. It had been difficult to make eye contact with Mydeimos during the following day’s spar, and it had cost the blue-eyed alpha his win streak. The Kremnoan had been more than happy to gloat over it. Although, speaking of Kremnoans… there was something rather notable about Phainon’s outing today.

In the Month of Balance, it was normal to see Okheman children playing around the Marmoreal streets, tugging their parents’ chitons or chasing each other with little peals of laughter. Under Talanton’s influence, people’s moods were even and focused, allowing businessmen to make major profits while the city-state’s crime rates were stalling. The merchants’ schedules were as disciplined as expected, which made it difficult for parents to broker deals and watch their pups simultaneously.

Luckily for them, Phainon had memorized by heart all the names and faces of the marketplace children, and their parents were grateful to have a trustworthy alpha babysit their children. With the Month of Evernight looming over the horizon, the white-haired alpha had taken it upon himself to spend the last week of the Month of Balance babysitting. With his help, hopefully those in the Marmoreal Marketplace could wrap their negotiations up and prepare for the final month of the Fate Season.

Today, when Phainon was dragged away by the usual crowd of pups, the alpha had been shocked to spot some unfamiliar faces in the mix. Three of the children held themselves with a distinct posture that none of the others did, muscles lean despite their age, and there was a bluntness to their actions that the Okheman children didn’t have. For a brief second, Phainon wondered if Okhema had taken in more refugees, but the darker gold on their chitons gave him the answer he seeked: they were Kremnoan.

Since the Kremnoan Detachment was granted entry into Okhema, Phainon had been working furiously to assist their immigration. Unfortunately, trying to blend Okhemans and Kremnoans was like trying to mix oil and water; Phainon couldn’t tell which group was more stubborn about keeping their distance. It was common for Okheman parents to lead their children away from Kremnoans, so the Okheman children accepting these three pups was the first sign of progress Phainon had seen.

In Phainon’s humble and completely unbiased opinion, any Kremnoan immersion into Okhema was worth celebrating! Which was exactly why Phainon had guided the litter into a shaded nook, sat them down, and weaved laurel wreaths with them. A nearby corner stall sold more than enough bay laurel branches for each pup to make at least once wreath, and the act of weaving was not only simple enough for kids to do, but also time-consuming enough that it could entertain them for at least a quint. It wasn’t the first time the Okheman children practiced the Elysian way of weaving, but it was completely new for the Kremnoans. Phainon had briefly considered if the Kremnoan pups would even enjoy such a mundane task, but their eyes had lit up eagerly at the alpha’s offer. The sight had reminded him of the joy he and Cyrene had felt as kids when weaving, and it steadied something in Phainon’s heart.

From a small distance away sat the Okheman children, happily working on their laurel headpieces. Occasionally they’d skitter away, but they were quick to return with things to decorate with. The Kremnoan kids, meanwhile, gathered around Phainon in a tight circle so they could watch him bend his headpiece into the proper shape.

“Don’t feel a need to rush this part,” Phainon explained, carefully pressing the branches into a horseshoe shape. “I know you three have a bit more power behind your moves than the others, which means you can approach this the same way I do. Use a handful of breaths to time yourself, and allow yourself to slowly work through each portion, one at a time. Otherwise-” Phainon took the tip of the bay laurel in his hands and quickly bent it. The branch snapped instantly in his hands. All three Kremnoan pups nodded attentively, and were quick to practice it on their own branches. Phainon bit back his amused smile when two of them quickly snapped parts of their sticks. Their scowls reminded the alpha of Mydeimos’ upset face- perhaps it came from their Kremnoan genes?

Phainon’s teaching was no longer required, so the alpha allowed himself to settle into the tree behind him. His laurel wreath lay abandoned in his lap, and the blue-eyed man gave it an idle poke. If he still lived in Aedes Elysiae, the wreath would’ve been covered in all sorts of plants, all sorts of beautiful and ugly things woven into it. The variety of greenery the village offered was why laurel wreaths were such a common courting gift. The farmers valued time and resources, and a well-made offering of a wreath presented both of those to any potential partners. Okhema, for all of Kephale’s divine glory, did not have the same vegetation that Aedes Elysiae once had. When the black tide ravaged the village, not a single plant had been left behind. The wreaths of Phainon’s childhood would exist only in memories, and the wreath in his lap was a sobering reminder.

At least the kids were having fun.

The sound of approaching footsteps, soft despite its metal clanks, pulled Phainon from his spiraling thoughts. “Andriskos, Demetri, Marsyas; there you all are,” announced a familiarly gruff voice. All three Kremnoan children bounced to their feet and bowed to the newcomer in perfect synchronization. Phainon perked at their arrival, only to hastily stifle a smirk at their sight- lest he risk his companion’s ire.

Mydeimos, as expected, was standing in front of Phainon in all his usual glory- if one ignored the baby swaddled in his arms, happily gnawing on the end of Mydeimos’ braid. Titans, Phainon thought, desperately trying not to chuckle, this is a sight I never thought I’d see.

Perhaps Mydeimos had a secret telepathic ability. His usual frown quickly turned into a displeased glower. “Deliverer,” the man gritted out, unflinching when the pup yanked hard on his braid. “I didn’t realize babysitting was a responsibility of the Flame Chase.”

Awfully bold words from a man doing the exact same thing. Phainon merely raised an eyebrow in response, no longer hiding his simper. “And I didn’t realize babysitting was a responsibility for Kremnoan royalty,” the alpha cheerfully quipped back. “May I know why you’ve graced us with your presence?”

Mydeimos tilted his head towards the three eager children standing in front of them. It was unsurprising that they adored their prince; one of the pups was practically vibrating in her spot, shuffling her feet from side to side. The white-haired alpha sighed fondly at the sight, not even slightly daunted by the crown prince’s glare.

“Marsyas,” Mydeimos began, tastefully ignoring Phainon’s giggles, “Your mother and father’s meeting is going on longer than expected. It most likely won’t end until the Parting Hour, so remain with Andriskos and Demetri until then.” The girl- Marsyas, Phainon silently corrected, mouthing her name under his breath- nodded obediently. The kit in Mydeimos’ arms babbled in the conversation’s gap, and the little thing didn’t stop until Mydeimos dangled a gauntleted knuckle in front of it. The baby happily gummed on the offering, and with the kit pacified, the crown prince redirected his attention to the three Kremnoans.

“Now then,” Mydeimos chided, “Why did you kids run away from Krateros? It took me practically half a quint to find you all, and in the streets of the marketplace no less.” Andriskos and Demetri, Phainon watched, deflated under their leader’s disappointment, but little Marsyas only gave the crown prince a rebellious grin.

“It was my idea!” she happily declared. Her chest puffed up proudly at Mydeimos’ unimpressed frown. “I wanted to get a better view of the big orb! So I asked Mister Krateros to play hide-and-seek with us, and when he started counting, all three of us snuck away.”

Phainon was… actually pretty impressed by that. The alpha hadn’t spoken much with the member of the Royal Wing Elites, but a single glance was all he needed to recognize Krateros’ warrior prowess. Evading an experienced hunter would be a difficult feat. Perhaps Mydeimos thought similarly, given that he didn’t immediately scold Marsyas? The blue-eyed alpha was amused by the pained look in the crown prince’s eyes. “That old man is sometimes so…” Mydeimos muttered quietly, exasperation evident, and then switched into a firmer tone. “You’re very lucky that the Deliverer was here to watch over you instead.” Looks like that’d be the best cue Phainon could get, and he pushed himself up to his feet

“It’s no trouble at all,” the white-haired man spoke, an attempt to pacify the crown prince. “All the other children were happy to play with them. All we’ve done is weave some headpieces together.” The explanation visibly drained the stress from his colleague’s posture. With just a little pleading in his tone, Phainon offered, “Would you like to join us, actually?”, and all three Kremnoans were quick to follow up with cries of please, pretty please!

Phainon had zero expectations for a positive response, but was pleasantly surprised when Mydeimos actually considered it. “I cannot, for my presence is needed by the beginning of the Action Hour,” the man decided, shockingly disappointed, “But I can stay here for the rest of this quint.” 

Phainon gracelessly dropped onto the grass, resuming his prior position before patting the ground next to him. “It’s a good thing I saved you a seat!” Phainon winked, unphased by the replying huff. Mydeimos was far more careful as he sat down, cautious of the baby in his arms, and the trio of pups followed his lead. “What’s the little one’s name?” Phainon asked. The kit in question noticed his stare, and Phainon was delighted when the babe smiled at him. The baby reached out to Phainon with its pudgy hands, and Mydeimos shuffled closer to indulge it.

“This is Kynortas,” Mydeimos explained. “He was born during our… travels to the holy city.” Given Andriskos’ observant look, Phainon could understand the choice of words, so he chose to not bring any attention to it. Tiny little Kynortas, ignorant of Amphorean politics, blew a snot bubble out of his nose that popped all over Mydeimos’ chest. The crown prince accepted it with only a sigh, even when the Kremnoan pups giggled at the sight. With that level of patience, there was no way Mydeimos was a newcomer to the joys of childrearing. Phainon couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re rather experienced at this,” Phainon remarked, and then (because he couldn’t help himself) quickly added on, “Is the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos perhaps a celebrity babysitter?”

Mydeimos reached into one of his pockets, probably digging around for any cloth with. “In Castrum Kremnos, all are expected to take on equal responsibility of our children,” Mydeimos began to clarify. An unexpectedly aggressive wiggle from Kynortas forced Mydeimos to drop his search, interrupting the kit’s struggle towards Phainon. “Our culture holds few expectations regarding sex or secondary gender. We typically allocate social responsibilities by age and relationships, and most couples share- Kynortas, settle down now…”

Kremnoan babies were no joke- Kynortas had nearly freed himself in those few sentences, and it forced Mydeimos to abandon his endeavors so he could maneuver the kit into a secure hold. Phainon shuffled closer to Mydeimos, pressed up shoulder to shoulder. Kremnoan babysitting, the Elysian decided, was a goldmine for entertainment. “Looks like the little guy wants to play with me,” he joyfully observed, heart melting when those happy green eyes met his own. Carelessly, Phainon offered, “If you would allow me, I’d be happy to share your responsibility for a while.”

What was meant to be helpful was apparently a conversation bomb. The crown prince’s relaxed posture straightened in an instant, head snapping to the Elysian with wide amber eyes, and Phainon couldn’t help how he faltered under that probing stare. His confusion only grew further at the scandalized gasps Andriskos, Demetri, and Marsyas let out. The three were quick to excuse themselves to join their Okheman peers, giggles following them in their wake. Had he… said something untoward? What kind of reaction even was this?

Whatever Phainon did, Mydeimos managed to shake off his daze, giving the white-haired man a surprisingly wary nod. The crown prince carefully took one of the alpha’s hands in his own and guided it to cradle Kynortas’ backside. The act pushed them deeply into each other’s personal spaces, so close that Phainon could feel Mydeimos’ breath on his own. Neither man moved for a moment, amber eyes intently searching Phainon’s own. Phainon wanted to look away, but his instincts kept him from trying. Whatever Mydeimos was searching for in Phainon’s eyes, the alpha hoped that the Kremnoan would be able to find it. As the moment edged on, it suddenly occurred to Phainon that- outside of their spars- he had never been this close to the other alpha before.

Phainon’s traitorous heart skipped a beat.

Finally, Mydeimos meticulously slotted the bundled-up kit into Phainon’s waiting arms. The alpha was genuinely relieved for the excuse to break eye contact, but hearing Kynortas’ happy giggles returned his composure. The babe reached demanding hands up at Phainon, and the alpha dangled a finger for him to take. The Kremnoan was quick to take it into his hands, using it as a chew toy the same way he had Mydeimos’ gauntlet. It was kind of cute- in a slobbery way. 

“What strong jaws you have,” Phainon couldn’t help but coo. Kynortas innocently blinked his emerald eyes, drooling all over the alpha’s hand. The kit was so cute that Phainon could almost pretend he wasn’t feeling Mydeimos’ pressing stare. “You have the makings of a fine warrior in you, little Kynortas!” Phainon proclaimed. Kynortas ground his gums harder on the Elysian’s finger. So cute.

The trio fell into a charged silence, one that Phainon (for once) wasn’t willing to break. Mydeimos had observed Phainon very intensely during their first fight, but that time had felt… different. It was normal to assess your opponents on the battlefield, and Mydeimos’ gaze then was less searching, perhaps? Phainon couldn’t quite find a word for it. What the crown prince was doing now was far heavier in comparison- not just assessing, but also taking the entirety of the white-haired alpha in. If Phainon was forced to describe the sensation, he’d probably say that it felt something like… Mydeimos was actually seeing him for the first time. Not as an enemy, an ally, or even the Deliverer, but as Phainon.

It’s not as if Phainon could really know, though.

Phainon had no idea how much time had passed when Mydeimos finally broke the weighted silence. “...You’re rather good with kids, Deliverer,” he murmured, seemingly almost wistful. The blonde turned closer to Phainon, his side pressed against Phainon’s own, to reach his hand out to Kynortas. Kynortas accepted the crown prince’s hand with the same enthusiasm he had taken Phainon’s, making a sound akin to a happy gurgle. He smacked their fingers together (making both alphas wince) and then enthusiastically slobbered over both of them.

Phainon tried to imagine Mydeimos acting similarly as a pup. As funny as the mental image was, something told the Elysian that Mydeimos’ childhood allowed no such luxuries.

“I enjoy being with children,” was Phainon’s honest reply. It came out softer than he had intended, so hushed that only his fellow alpha could pick it up. “When I was just a pup, I had assumed I would’ve had a family once I got old enough. But now, with the Flame Chase…” Phainon allowed his sentence to trail off, and Mydeimos understood the intent, replying with his own thoughtful hum.

“I understand,” Mydeimos admitted. Phainon paused, surprised, before his expression melded into a bittersweet smile. “The Council of Elders made their expectations for the Chrysos Heirs very clear.” There was an unspoken yearning in the Kremnoan’s passiveness, and it was a feeling the blue-eyed alpha understood all too well.

The conversation dropped into silence again, but it was far more comfortable than the previous one. Further discussion would be not only depressing, but also blasphemous. Those who dedicated themselves to the Flame Chase knew they couldn’t chase such desires with anyone uninvolved. Settling down was a pipe dream for all of the Chrysos Heirs, and Phainon and Mydeimos were no exception.

Little Kynortas, apparently bored of the alphas’ fingers, let go so he could reach back for his guardian. The crown prince answered the child’s whine in an instant, pushing through Phainon’s hold to take back Kynortas and settle down the babe. The alpha immediately missed the tiny weight in his arms, but the weight of Mydeimos against his side was a balm to the ache. Phainon jerked when something nudged his thigh, and tilted his head down to see- ah. That’s where his laurel wreath had fallen.

The sight awakened a certain feeling inside Phainon, an urge to give that he hadn’t felt before. While the other children in Aedes Elysiae- Cyrene included- had all given a wreath to their fancy, Phainon hadn’t gotten such an opportunity. Before the alpha even realized, he had already picked the wreath up and dusted it off. Only when he deemed it clean enough did Phainon gently place his wreath on Mydeimos’ head, and he carefully brushed away some golden strands before they could get tangled in the wreath. It was plain- embarrassingly so in comparison to his childhood ones- but the plain leaves of the bay laurel branches warmed something in Phainon’s chest.

And then a single glance at Mydeimos’ face had Phainon biting back a wheeze. The Kremnoan’s mildly startled countenance had a flawless resemblance to how the orange chimera in the Garden of Life reacted if he got picked up mid-nap.

Now that his impulse had been sated, Phainon wasn’t… actually sure what had compelled him to give away his wreath. The Okheman children had already argued earlier over who would get to take home Phainon’s wreath. They were definitely going to throw a fit when they found out Phainon already gave it away.

But if the alpha ignored the feeling of guilt, he couldn’t ignore the affectionate joy he got from Mydeimos wearing his headpiece. Maybe it was because Mydeimos had allowed Phainon this childish indulgence, or perhaps because the Kremnoan hadn’t rejected his offering. “You don’t have to keep it on,” the alpha explained, laughing through the twinge in his heart. “I just wanted to see how it’d look on you. Unfortunately, it appears that no wealth of accessories can wipe that sullen look off your face.”

Mydeimos rolled his eyes, blatantly unimpressed by Phainon’s teasing.

But he didn’t take off Phainon’s wreath either.

≪ Month of Evernight ≫

Things changed between Phainon and Mydeimos after the Month of Balance. They never exactly… sat down and talked about it, but there had been a noticeable shift in the dynamic between Okhema’s Deliverer and Castrum Kremnos’ crown prince.

In Phainon’s opinion, the changes were mostly good things. The best of these changes was that Mydeimos now regularly accepted Phainon’s requests to go to the Marmoreal Palace. Before the Month of Evernight, Phainon could count the number of times the alpha had agreed on one hand. Nowadays- and hopefully not because of Oronyx’s influence- Mydeimos was far more likely to say “yes” than “no” whenever Phainon asked anything of him. Frankly speaking, it was an indulgence Phainon was taking full advantage of, and the man might dare to wager that he and the Kremnoan are now friends.

Now the bad change, on the other hand, wasn’t anything too unbearable. It was just that, well, Phainon got sudden urges to give Mydeimos gifts. Constantly. That was the only change the alpha wanted to blame on Oronyx. After all, he had been feeling the Month of Evernight’s sleepiness just as everyone else, but something in Phainon’s gut told him that these urges were… different.

When Phainon used to wander the Marmoreal Marketplace, he would take his time at every shop, even if he knew their wares weren’t what he wanted. Nowadays the man’s been skipping straight to the farmer’s stalls, hoping to find a certain alpha’s favorite snack. When Phainon loiters by Chartonus’ forge, he idles at its entrance, watching sparks fly from the familiar impact of metal against metal. When the alpha divvies some of his purchases to the marketplace children, his inner alpha howls in a fit, demanding the Elysian save a portion for his closest companion.

For some reason, Theodoros decided to become the worst instigator of Phainon’s urges.

Unfortunately for the alpha, Phainon could rarely resist browsing Theodoros’ wares. His relaxing pastime of relic appraisal had been quickly abandoned in the hunt to find anything befitting the crown prince. Phainon tore through Theodoros’ shipments like a starving wolf, eyes out for anything in superb quality, something worthy of Mydeimos's eye.

Theodoros (ever the businessman!) had caught on before the end of the first week. During the second week, whenever Phainon drew near, the salesman was quick to usher him inside with promises of ninety-nine percent guaranteed authentic arrivals. By all means, the alpha was well-aware the statistic was incorrect. His useless inner-alpha didn’t particularly care though. Henceforth, Phainon fell for Theodoros’ bait every single time. Damn you, Oronyx.

When Phainon had confided with Lady Tribbie on the matter, she said it’s normal to want to buy gifts for your friends. Had it been about literally anyone else, Phainon would’ve agreed. Before Mydeimos, the alpha had ridden through occasional impulses to buy a simple gift for his colleagues. Every thought of purchase for Mydeimos, however, came with an unfamiliar instinct to give. To offer. To show Mydeimos that he was capable, he was thoughtful, that Phainon was worthy to be seen by Mydeimos and… other thoughts no one should have about their colleague. His inner alpha clearly wanted to provide for Mydeimos more than anything else, and it took most of Phainon’s patience to curbstomp every urge it caused him.

With that said, it’s no surprise that the Deliverer’s biggest trouble in the Month of Evernight is keeping his Titans-damned wallet shut. The only thing that actually helping Phainon are his own unbelievably high standards. Sure, Mydeimos had accepted his boring laurel wreath without complaint, and yes, the Kremnoan had been surprisingly irritated when Krateros had suggested he take the embarrassing thing off, but neither of those meant the crown prince actually liked it. Or more importantly, that Mydeimos understood the significance of Phainon giving it to him, which the alpha still couldn’t believe he’d done. Everything he felt about the Kremnoan was an emotional nightmare Phainon wasn’t ready to sort through or financially invest in.

So, despite Theodoros’ best efforts, Phainon didn’t buy anything pushed his way.

At least… that had been the case. And then Phainon stumbled across a non-descript box, neatly hidden at the bottom of Theodoros’ newest shipment. The alpha took it out with the same care he handled all the man’s relics with, and when he saw what lay inside, he couldn’t help but be enamored. 

Nestled inside the box was a pair of golden earrings, a small sapphire embedded in each of the upper dangles. They were in surprisingly good shape despite how carelessly they were delivered to Theodoros. For a second, all Phainon could think was how perfectly they would match the golden armlet and necklace Mydeimos draped himself with.

The alpha ignored Theodors’ questioning hum. Instead of answering, Phainon carefully pulled one earring out and dangled it under the dawnlight. His initial assessment was proved correct- the sapphires looked exactly the same as the ones embedded in Mydeimos's jewelry. In fact, the man mused, these might fit his accessories better than his hoops.

The thought had Phainon unconsciously pulling out his wallet. Only when Theodoros’ pleased grin came into view did Phainon realize just what he was considering doing.

Mydeimos already has a favored pair of earrings, the alpha reminded himself. Even if they didn’t match his other jewelry as well as these did. If Mydeimos wanted new earrings, then Mydeimos would be shopping for them.There was no reason Phainon should even consider buying these.

“Theodoros.”

“Yes, Lord Phainon?”

“...How much are these earrings worth?”

Theodoros’ charming business smile was practically blinding as he replied, “I thought you’d never ask!”

The price nearly brought the alpha to tears. The amount of zeroes was not only enough to keep Phainon’s wallet shut but also send him to the door with his tail between his legs. Right before he could leave (and privately wallow in his shame), Theodoros stopped him with a cheeky smile.

“Isn’t it remarkable how those gems match the blue of your chlamys, Lord Phainon?” Theodoros suggested, halting Phainon mid-step. While his tone was light, the cadence of each word made it clear what he was implying. “I think anyone who lays their eyes on these would be unable to think of anyone but you.” Theodoros’ eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Even if it was someone else wearing them.”

Titans, damn it all.

Ultimately Phainon hadn’t been able to commit to the purchase. He also hadn’t been willing to let someone else take them though, so he instead begged politely asked Theodoros to keep them reserved in the back. Theodoros graciously agreed to Phainon’s request (grin growing brighter when the alpha slid over generous amount of hush money), but the man’s knowing smile almost made Phainon regret asking.

Almost.

If Lady Aglaea noticed Phainon hoarding more of his paycheck than usual after that, she was merciful enough to not call any attention to it. The blue-eyed alpha was more than willing to tolerate her occasional questioning glances in turn, and Phainon fought to push the earrings out of his mind after such humiliation. The alpha was ridiculously relieved when he made it to the last week of the Month of Evernight with his bank account (and mental stability) in check.

And then his short-lived peace ended when Mydeimos returned from a mission covered in golden blood, ear lobes torn straight through, and his hoops lost to the outskirts of Janusopolis.

Of course this happened the one Oronyx-damned time Phainon couldn’t fight alongside the alpha. Lady Aglaea required Phainon’s support for the Council of Elders that same day, and she had deemed Mydeimos capable of handling a lone titankin sighting. The crown prince was expected to return before the end of the Action Hour, so Phainon had sucked it up and joined Lady Aglaea at the Demigod Council. Together, Phainon and Lady Aglaea had finished their meeting exactly as scheduled.

Mydeimos, on the other hand, was back in Okhema at the first quint of the Curtain-Fall Hour with half his chiton torn off and a puddle of golden blood under his feet. The “few” corrupted titankin that had been spotted were actually stragglers from an entire pack. Mydeimos couldn’t answer how many there were, for the man stopped counting after his fifty-seventh kill.

Phainon was only slightly relieved to hear it took longer to hunt the titankin down than to slaughter them. Mydeimos, the considerate and empathetic prince he was, agreed to join Phainon at the Hero’s Bath when he saw how stressed his fellow alpha had been because of his plight. And certainly not because Phainon refused to allow Mydeimos rest until he washed away any lingering Black Tide corruption!

The amount of titankin gore on Mydeimos covered nearly his entire visage, so it was only after the Kremnoan had washed that filth away that Phainon or Mydeimos realized what he had left behind. “Nikador damn it all!” Mydeimos seethed, so upset his tattoos glared through the bath’s water. “I knew those foul beasts stole from me!”

Phainon blinked in surprise. “What? Are you missing something?” the Elysian asked, strictly keeping his eyes above the blonde’s collarbones. Mydeimos gathered a chunk of blonde-red strands together and pulled it to the side, baring his ear (and neck, his useless brain supplied) to the alpha.

“They tore my hoops out,” Mydeimos grunted. His glare turned forlorn as he stroked his free hand over the still-healing lobes.

Phainon gave the Kremnoan an empathetic frown. “If they were of great value to you,” the Elysian offered, “I wouldn’t mind backtracking with you tomorrow until we can find them.” Except for the baths, Phainon had never seen the crown prince without his jewelry, and he wouldn’t be shocked if he was told Mydeimos slept in them. He could only guess just how much the gold meant to the Kremnoan.

Mydeimos released a grieving sigh, shutting his eyes tight. “I sincerely appreciate it, Deliverer,” the man muttered, “But it’s not worth our time. They were a gift from a packmate, but they were built from pure gold. Even if we managed to find them, they will surely be damaged beyond repair.”

“Could you ask them to make another pair for you?” Phainon tilted his head, thoughtfully humming. Chartonus might consider sharing his forge for a few coin…

“The man who made me them is dead, Deliverer.”

The words were said casually, but the blank stare on Mydeimos's face was enough of a hint to keep Phainon from pressing further. “Most jewelry holds significant meaning for Kremnoan royalty, so finding something to supplement them…,” Mydeimos sighs. He sounded more exhausted than Phainon thought he was capable of. “…It will be no simple feat.”

Mydeimos slowly leaned his head side to side- perhaps trying to rid himself of their phantom weights- while his gaze remained distant. Phainon was quick to veer the conversation into safer territory, and only let himself relax when the light came back in Mydeimos's amber eyes. By the time they parted ways, the Kremnoan almost appeared back to his usual self, and Phainon was able to go to his chambers knowing the crown prince was feeling a bit better.

As Phainon laid back in his kline, however, he couldn't stop his mind from drifting off to that little box with gold and sapphire resting inside.

“Lord Phainon,” Theodoros asked innocently, “Have you heard the gossip swirling around the marketplace today?” The pure glee in his tone was enough to make Phainon stiff.

“Unfortunately,” Phainon answered, tone carefully neutral, “I only just got here. I have somewhere to be after this, so I haven’t spoken with the merchants as normal.” Perhaps, if the alpha were lucky, Theodoros would take mercy on him and let him leave without any fuss.

“That’s a shame,” Theodoros whistled. He leaned towards Phainon, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he shared, “The streets are saying that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos has lost some of his jewelry- a certain pair of earrings, believe it or not.” Phainon forced out a dry chuckle. It sounded just as nervous as he felt.

“How peculiar!” the alpha rasped. “Looks like Mydeimos and I are in the market for jewelry, I suppose!”

Theodoros nodded solemnly. “Indeed so, Lord Phainon. It’s a shame you snatched up such a lovely pair before Lord Mydeimos could see them.” Theodoros, Phainon internally wept, you are far too astute for my own sanity. “Since I confirmed the amount, you may take your purchase, Lord Phainon,” the businessman cheered. Phainon couldn’t help his sigh of relief. Theodoros made counting look like an insurmountable task, and he had worried that the businessman wouldn’t release him until he got whatever juicy gossip he wanted. The alpha quickly stuffed the box into a discrete pocket inside his cloak, eager to make his escape. Phainon was just stepping through the shop’s front door when Theodoros, as loudly as possible, yelled out: “I look forward to seeing how Lord Mydeimos looks in those sapphires!”

Theodoros’ laughter when Phainon tripped over his own feet followed the alpha all the way to his private chambers.

Buying those stupid earrings had drained every last drop of confidence out of Phainon’s body. That Titans-damned box had been in his pocket for an entire six days now, its weight taunting the Elysian every time he met up with Mydeimos. The stress of it had frayed Phainon’s nerves so badly that the crown prince himself had noticed. And wasn’t that just a shame? Some of their colleagues had also taken note of Phainon’s unkempt state, but they (meaning Lady Castorice and Lady Tribbie) were too polite to question him on it or (in Lady Aglaea’s case) too overworked to bother prying. But Mydeimos? Whenever something caught the Kremnoan’s interest, the crown prince would chase it down, relentlessly and shamelessly. In any other circumstance, it was a trait that Phainon admired.

Today, it was something Phainon dreaded.

After six straight days of the Deliverer pulling excuses out of his ass, the crown prince finally had enough of his bullcrap. Mydeimos spent the entire Entry Hour tracking Phainon through the Marmoreal Marketplace, and when Phainon lowered his guard for just a breath, Mydeimos dragged him into the nearest alleyway and slammed him against the wall. Mydeimos fist was clenched so tight it was starting to turn white, and the sight made the Elysian instinctively gulp.

Phainon wasn’t sure how many believable redirections he had left in him.

“I know you’re hiding something Deliverer,” Mydeimos snarled, pushing Phainon even further against the wall. “You’ve had that unattractive nervous look for the past three days now, and it’s very unbefitting of your countenance. What are you hiding from me?”

Phainon couldn’t help his blush. Did that mean… Mydeimos found him attractive? A gauntleted fingerflick on his forehead yanked him away from his fluttering heart. “Deliverer,” Mydeimos gritted out, “Don’t make me beat the answer out of you.” Phainon’s heart thought that he would actually quite enjoy that.

His brain wisely told him that Mydeimos wouldn’t appreciate such honesty

Inappropriate infatuation aside though, Phainon knew Mydeimos wasn’t lying. If Phainon didn’t come up with an acceptable answer, Mydeimos would most certainly pummel Phainon into the middle of the Marmoreal Marketplace, uncaring of how many people watched. As much as Phainon dreaded how Mydeimos might receive his “gift”, he feared Aglaea’s wrath even more. The mental image of her chillingly infuriated face shoved Phainon’s hand inside his pocket and yanked it out with the jewelry box.

“It’sforyou,” jumbled out of Phainon in a single breath, practically incomprehensible, and he bowed his body forward to hold the box out. The alpha couldn’t bear seeing whatever emotion was on Mydeimos’s face- the cobblestone underneath him was far safer to look at. Probably less judgemental than his friend, at least.

Mydeimos’ next few breaths were far too quiet. Phainon’s pulse pounded in his ears, and when Mydeimos gently plied the jewelry box out of his sweaty grip, the sound of it opening echoed painfully through his head. Another moment, another heartbeat passed- and then Phainon heard Mydeimos's breath hitch.

“You don’t have to accept it!” Phainon exclaimed, wincing when his voice cracked. “And I swear, I’m not trying to replace the sentimentality of your last pair! I just…”

Phainon shoved his nerves down and forced himself back upright. The alpha still wasn’t brave enough to make eye contact, but he would at least finish what he started. “I know what it feels like, Mydeimos. There is nothing that can replace objects left from those embraced by Thanatos. And I know everything you wear holds great significance, which is why-,” Phainon swallowed, then grimaced when it hurt. “I will understand if you don’t accept this. I know I tease you frequently, but I swear on Kephale’s name that my intentions with this gift are nothing but honest.” It was far from his finest speech. It was probably one of the most awkward things Phainon has ever said, but he meant every single word of it. Hopefully the other alpha would appreciate that. The Deliverer mustered as much of a smile as he could, and then finally let his eyes meet Mydeimos’s. And then his heart stopped.

In hindsight, Phainon wasn’t sure how he expected Mydeimos to respond; probably some angry yelling, or maybe a mildly embarrassed reply. If the white-haired man were lucky, Mydeimos would feel nothing but neutral and calmly reject the earrings without bruising Phainon’s ego.

Mydeimos did none of those things.

In the blink of an eye, the crown prince took the box in one hand and Phainon’s wrist in the other. Before Phainon could ask any questions, Mydeimos was swiftly dragging them through the marketplace, and it seemed as if every head in a kilometre radius had their eyes on the duo.

Mydeimos was furiously muttering under his own breath, inaudible over the hushed gasps of everyone around them. However, all Phainon could focus on was the red flush spreading over the other alpha’s ears and neck, barely visible through blonde-red hair. The Elysian had flustered the crown prince hundreds of times by now, but it had always been a side effect of riling Mydeimos up. Phainon wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Mydeimos blush when he wasn’t angry before now, but now that he has… he thinks he’d like to see it more.

Time had passed in the bat of an eye, and suddenly Mydeimos was letting go of his iron grip on Phainon. The alpha barely managed to catch himself before he could faceplant into the ground of what appeared to be their training arena. “Mydeimos?” he called out, pushing himself back into a standing position, “Are you-?”

Mydeimos cut through his words without hesitation. “I accept your intentions, Deliverer.”

In the light, the crown prince looked as if he was shining.There was a brilliant grin stretched across his face, an expression Phainon had never seen before on the alpha, and his amber eyes glowed like gold. Kephale’s dawnlight illuminated the warrior’s silhouette, and even as his blonde-red hair got tangled by a sudden gust of wind, the sight of the crown prince was so radiant that maidens and bachelors alike would swoon.

And then everything clicked. Every impulse, every instinct, every whisper from his inner alpha; it all came together into one clear picture. Phainon wasn’t just attracted to Mydeimos. It wasn’t simple admiration either; the alpha wasn’t striving to be like the crown prince. What Phainon wanted, with every beat of his aching heart, was to be at Mydeimos’s side, from now until the day they died.

Mnestia, Phainon internally wept, has been playing me like a fool.

“-And since you have shown you understand the significance of this offering,” came Mydeimos's alluring voice, ringing through Phainon’s self-induced pity party, “Then you understand what comes next.”

Phainon grinned at the man across from him, Mydeimos’s sharp figure more striking than ever before. “Of course I do!” the blue-eyed alpha declared, lying like the coward he was. The alpha would rather sit through ten more debates with the Council of Elders than disappoint Mydeimos when he had such a glorious smile.

And then Mydeimos, crown prince of Castrum Kremnos, the only man to ever catch the Deliverer’s heart, threw himself at Phainon and tackled him to the ground. Phainon instinctually dug his elbow into the Kremnoan’s sternum, briefly stunning the blonde and forcing a small distance between them. With the opening, Phainon leaned back, and then punched Mydeimos so hard the Kremnoan’s head snapped backwards.

The ferocity of Phainon’s strike was enough to halt them in their tracks, both alphas panting heavily. Even though Mydeimos literally just attacked Phainon, Phainon still found the blonde’s weight comfortable on his hips. Mydeimos’s head lolled forwards, and Phainon saw the way his feline pupils dilated, watched the blood that oozed out the Kremnoan’s nose and over his lips. The blood of Chrysos Heirs was a fascinating phenomenon; people called their blood golden, but it was as red as anyone else’s until it made contact with air. The red turned gold when it oxidized, but the transition happened so efficiently that it was imperceptible to the untrained eye. It made the golden blood from Mydeimos's broken nose shine like polished steel in the dawnlight.

Phainon was so captivated by the sight that he almost missed the ascent of pomegranates teasing the air between them.

“Deliverer,” Mydeimos nearly sang, dragging Phainon’s title over his tongue. The prince’s blood dripped into his mouth, gold staining fangs and teeth alike, and Phainon had to resist the desperate want to taste it on his own tongue. Mydeimos traced the leather of Phainon’s collar with his gauntlets’ claws, tips slowly dragging over each groove in its surface. The crown prince leaned his head down, nose tantalizingly close to Phainon’s covered scent glands. The scent of pomegranates, teasingly faint, was just strong enough to make the Elysian’s mouth water. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be saying this,” Mydeimos considered, breath hot against Phainon’s ear, “But I sincerely hope you win this fight.”

For the brief second before Mydeimos slammed Phainon’s head against the ground, the Deliverer genuinely wondered how he never realized how desperately he wanted the other alpha. The moment was all Mydeimos needed to grab a fistful of white hair and make Phainon eat dirt. Phainon didn’t know why they were fighting like this, why a simple gift ended with them tussling in their arena arena, but he did know that Mydeimos wanted Phainon to win. Not himself, but Phainon- and the thought was enough to make the alpha’s blood boil with excitement.

Perhaps Oronyx had granted the alphas their blessing, replacing their senses of reason with nothing but instinct, fogging their minds up with a delirious heat. It could explain why Phainon responded to Mydeimos's blood lust so quickly, why Mydeimos got more excited with each hit Phainon landed. Phainon’s instincts sang when Mydeimos tossed him like a ragdoll, feeling nothing but elated at being manhandled by his only match. Oronyx’s influence was the only justifiable reason for why the alphas spent the entire Descent Hour beating each other into the dirt, responsibilities ignored in the chase to draw each other’s blood. Blaming all of it on Oronyx would be the logical choice, yet the very thought made Phainon simmer with envy. The alpha did not want to blame this fight on Oronyx.

This feeling, Phainon thought, hands wrapped around the crown prince’s throat, belongs to Mydeimos and I alone. 

The crown prince huffed from his spot in the dirt, gauntlets dug into the muscle over Phainon’s heart. “Mydeimos…” Phainon panted out, gripping tighter around the Kremnoan’s neck. The fatigue in his muscles was prominent, but Phainon wouldn’t falter now, not until Mydeimos was satisfied. The other alpha had wanted him to win, after all; the crown prince would only end this fight when he was ready to. 

The crown prince tested against Phainon’s restraints, and had Phainon been any other man, it might’ve been enough to break free. But Phainon, who desperately wanted to be Mydeimos’ equal, fought the attempt with equal fervor, and slammed Mydeimos's head against the ground. “Cease your struggling, Mydeimos,” he growled out. “Neither you nor I can win in this position.” Amber eyes met his own, an emotion that Phainon couldn’t grasp swirling in their depths. The Elysian had been anticipating retaliation, but Mydeimos instead fell limp in his hands, turning his head to bare his neck.

Phainon’s fangs ached in his jaw.

“I yield,” Mydeimos declared, eyes daring Phainon to look away, as if the white-haired man would want to look at anything besides the alpha underneath him. “I look forward,” the crown prince purred, “To seeing you prove yourself my equal, Deliverer.”

Before Phainon could manage any reply, Mydeimos gestured his chin towards the earring box,  abandoned at the side of the practice arena. “Come take your spoils,” Mydeimos demanded, pushing Phainon away with a flat smack of his palm. The white-haired alpha was eager to obey, non-existent tail wagging up an excited storm. Phainon only faltered when one of the golden earrings was carefully dropped into his palm. “What are you waiting for, Deliverer?” Mydeimos asked, “Put it in already.”

Put it in-? Flustered, Phainon stared at the man’s left earlobe, not a single piercing in sight. The previous tears had healed, sure, but… “Mydeimos?”

“Yes?” the Kremnoan bit back, irritation made clear. Was he that eager to wear the earring? How cute

“Where am I supposed to put this?” Phainon heaved an exasperated sigh. “Your piercing healed with the rest of your lobe; there’s nowhere to hang anything.”

Mydeimos’ glare would’ve smited a lesser man. With a grunted “HKS,” Mydeimos carefully positioned the earring between Phainon’s fingers. The blue-eyed alpha didn’t protest, curious what Mydeimos was planning, and then yelped when Mydeimos used his damn hand to jam the earring through his skin.

“Mydeimos, are you mad!?” Phainon cried out, hands fluttering around Mydeimos's bleeding ear. Screw this man for looking as if Phainon was the crazy one here! “That was stupid and you know it- imagine how the Lady Tribios would cry if they found out about this!” The flash of anger was only somewhat abated by Mydeimos's wince; Phainon was not afraid to drag the holy maiden into this if it kept the crown prince from maiming himself. Especially if he was going to use Phainon’s own body to do so! “Are you going to make me stab the other ear also? Jeez.”

For some unfathomable reason, the statement made Mydeimos’s cheeks flush. “You’re moving awfully fast here,” the Kremnoan chastised, finishing it with a click of his tongue. The Kremnoan was scowling, but Phainon saw the corner of his lips ticking up. Maybe the blonde was more of a masochist than Phainon thought?

“I’m not ready to take that step yet,” Mydeimos continued. Phainon didn’t have a single clue what he was alluding to, but at least the other earring remained safely in its box. “I’d like you to receive Krateros’ approval first,” the crown prince muttered, gauntlet tapping his chin, “And I’d like to match your efforts before that also…” Efforts? For what? The earrings cost a lot, but the most difficult thing about this exchange was the indignity Phainon suffered.

“That’s- fine?” Phainon replied, bewildered. “Take all the time you need…?” Mydeimos's answering smile was as handsome as his earlier grin, and suddenly, Phainon no longer cared what they were talking about.

The golden earring was a perfect fit for the crown prince. As the wind picked up, making it dangle between locks of blonde hair, its little sapphire seemed to twinkle at Phainon. The gold shone nearly as bright as Mydeimos's quiet pleasure. “Thank you, Deliverer.”

The forgotten scent of pomegranates surged for a breath, and then receded as quickly as it came.