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The Duality of Two Suns in the Sky

Chapter 10: An 'Interrogation'.

Summary:

“There’s no need to fret Mydei. We’ll sort this out together.”

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Unlike the sleeping beauty just down the hall, Phainon had not slept at all. The insomnia was partially responsible, the nightmares too. But if he was to be a bodyguard then what kind of guard would he be if he left the assassin unattended?

It was a small price to pay to ensure the safety of the prince. Phainon had drafted a letter, scribbling a message to Hephaestion to gather the cohort of five, to hurry to the prince’s chambers at intervals, so as to not to rouse suspicion. The messenger had been confused but had diligently performed his job, Hephaestion being the first to arrive at Phainon’s door.

He had been shocked as he had perused the letter, brows knitted together in concern at the urgency of Phainon’s missive, about the lack of details and what it could possibly mean. To need all five of Mydeimos’ closest friends… He had hardly been able to rest either after informing the others.

As soon as the sun had risen Hephaestion had practically leapt out of his bed, rushing himself into his day clothes to not waste any time. He had barged out of his door, making for the fortress with haste, waving a good morning and giving his signature smile to all those who greeted him. He was hardly a rare sight in the royal lodgings, making excuses for himself with each stride.

“Pretend everything is normal. Prince’s orders.”

Hephaestion’s blood had cooled with that line in particular, the fear crawling at his skin lasting far longer than the vestiges of the letter that had been burnt in his fire. Phainon had also told him to ensure that any evidence of their correspondence be destroyed after it had been consumed, Hephaestion passing on the same sentiment to the others too. To pretend everything was normal was proof that things were not, something had happened in the night, and they had been none the wiser, unable to lend their support.

The guilt settled in Hephaestion’s heart. He had not been there when his prince had needed him. The rational part of his mind argued why would he be in the prince’s quarters late at night? Well at least… Not anymore. Hephaestion chewed at the inside of his mouth, not letting his mind wander there at the very least.

After the argument with Eurypon… There had been no more visitors in the depths of darkness. A risk too lofty to be taken, a heart that did not wish to be broken. Mydeimos’ voice had almost been a plea as they had sat across from each other, begging his nearest and dearest to understand his point of view. Hephaestion had taken the parting with grace, but that did not distill the love in his heart, he feared it never would.

“I can’t risk you getting hurt Hephaestion.” How ironic when his prince had been in danger while he had laid blissful in his bed.

But Phainon… Phainon was trustworthy, he was strong and diligent. He had been there to defend the prince, to stand in between him and harm’s way. Hephaestion owed him a debt of gratitude far too great for such a feat, and he would make sure to act on it once he knew what had occurred.

The route to Mydeimos’ chambers was ingrained into his legs, chewing his lip and picking at skin as he walked. Thoughts flooded his mind as he walked down those familiar halls, wondering about his friends, his prince, and the unknown variable that had entered all of their lives. To pass Mydeimos’ door without entry felt odd, Hephaestion pushing back any thoughts that reared their heads at his good conscience. Phainon’s door stood at the end of the corridor, Hephaestion breathing a sigh to himself as he gently rapped on the surface.

The man in question soon opened his bedroom door, eyes softening at the sight of the familiar friend. His hair was slightly messy from a restless night, strands sticking up from his head like sprouts, a slight darkening in the underpass of his eyes.

“Hephaestion. A good morning to you.” Phainon’s smile creased, polite and cordial as he always was. The man in turn did not look convinced about the “good” nature of the day but smiled in return, performing for the empty hallway, inviting himself into Phainon’s room.

The first thing he noticed was the restrained man in the corner.

Phainon looked left and right before carefully closing the door behind them, leaning against the now closed entrance. His facade instantly fell, seriousness settling into both expression and tone.

“An assassin.” He spoke plainly, eyes narrowed. “They attacked the prince during the night, we kept one alive for interrogation.”

Hephaestion paused, taking in his words with a calming expression. “What do we know?” He asked quietly. Assassins were seen as a lowly means to the battle-hardened warriors of Kremnos, possibilities quickly forming in his mind.

“Not a lot.” Phainon admitted. “Mydei said he has suspicions, but he is still resting.”

Hephaestion once more did not bring up the nickname, lowering himself to sit at the rickety chair at Phainon’s desk. He drummed his fingers against the wood, eyes unfocused as he stared through the window.

Mydei…

Such tones of familiarity were rare among Kremnoans. Cute nicknames were seen as insults, the greatest honor being the use of one’s own title. And yet… That time in the kitchen… The prince had not rejected the notion.

Hephaestion slowly blinked, a smile creeping onto his lips as he turned to look at Phainon, eyes gentle and kind.

“It sounds like a stressful ordeal. Thank you for defending Mydeimos, even if he told you that he could handle it himself.” A light chuckle breached the air between them, Phainon pushing his hair back with a tired grin.

“That he did… That he did…” Phainon beamed at the smaller man, allowing himself a moment of reprieve. It would not be wise to mention the emotions that had come over the prince the night before, memories of tears and screams searing into Phainon’s mind.

A light knock interrupted them, Phainon glancing to the door that he was leaning against. He turned on his heel, messing with the mechanism until the halves parted, revealing their visitors. In front of him stood Ptolemy and Peucesta, the pair sighing in relief at the sight of Hephaestion.

“What did I say about travelling separately?” The latter sighed as he stared at the two, Phainon quickly stepping to the side to allow them into the increasingly cramped room.

“You say that but would it not seem stranger for the five of us to arrive at different intervals? After all we’re all close are we not?” Ptolemy perched on Phainon’s bed, Peucesta huffing and leaning against the wall by the door.

“I’m surprised you got here before Leonnius.” Phainon offered sheepishly, Ptolemy’s laugh echoing around the room.

“Trust me, he’s only swift on his feet when he needs to be. He’ll be along, probably picking up Perdikkas.”

Phainon opened his mouth to argue about the urgency of “needing” to hurry when the prince’s life had been at stake but figured it was best not to. They all had the impression of Mydei’s strength, knowing him to be immortal both in and out of battle. Their worries were not of his life, but of his standing in the royal family. It made sense when they had known him for so long, something that Phainon knew he must learn in stride with them if he were to remain close with the group.

“So, who’s this buzzkill?” Ptolemy looked curious as his attention turned to the captive, Peucesta’s eyes narrowing in kind.

“Exactly that, a buzzkill.” A familiar voice spoke from the door, Mydeimos standing there with bags under his eyes. The tension in the room obviously lessened at the sight of him, the prince sighing at the sight of them all.

“No need to stare.” He grunted, sidling inside to stand next to Peucesta.

“You still have time to sleep Myd-”

“I’ve been awake since dawn.” The prince groaned in response to Phainon’s suggestion. “It’s fine. The sooner we get this over with the better.” He pointed his chin towards the stirring assassin, trying to hide the stress toying with himself.

As if on cue a loud knock on the door alerted everybody.

“Are you guys in there?” Leonnius’ voice called through the door, a muffled noise coming from the companion behind him. “What? We don’t need to be discreet with them!”

“I gave them all basic instructions…” Hephaestion muttered under his breath, watching as Peucesta moved to open the door for their latecomers. Leonnius looked to them with a big smile, Perdikkas trotting in behind him.

“So nobody listened to the ‘travel separately’ order…” Hephaestion sighed, looking to Phainon with a small shrug of his shoulders at their terrible compliance.

“Not like it matters, no one is ever around here in the morning.” Ptolemy pointed out, glancing at the small bag that Perdikkas carried with him.

A small inclusion in the order, one that Mydeimos had given him.

“Bring some tools.”

They talked amongst themselves for a few moments, Mydeimos standing in the corner with a frown. He watched them all, eyes careful and calculating, Phainon moving to poke at his shoulder with an inviting smile.

“There’s no need to fret Mydei. We’ll sort this out together.”

The prince merely scoffed at his attempt at comfort. “You think too little of me to think that I’m worried.”

“Quite the opposite in fact! It’s because I hold you in such a high regard that I want to make sure you’re not addled by these disruptions.”

“It takes more than that to sway me.” Mydeimos waved him off, taking a few steps forward to stand in the middle of the room. Phainon chuckled slightly, settling in the spot he had taken by the window.

The room fell silent as Mydeimos took his station, all eyes turning to look at him as he cleared his throat.

“As I’m sure you know by now. Last night three assassins broke into my chambers and attempted to attack me.”

Any levity was automatically doused out, the men frowning at the implications. A protectiveness from friends and subjects both. A pride of homeland, bonds of companionship formed on the battlefield in war and conquest. Phainon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in this discussion, keeping quiet as the others grumbled their discontents.

Mydeimos turned on his heel, tilting his chin towards Phainon as if he could sense his doubts. “This Okheman saved me.”

A lie. Mydeimos had not needed saving.

The prince quickly regained his focus, addressing each of them equally.

“Two of them have become food for the rats as those that scheme in the dark deserve. The other is in the room with us.” Mydeimos narrowed his eyes, accentuating the dark shadows underneath his lids as he turned to look at the waking assassin.

“I have my own suspicions as to the nature of this attack. But I will not blindly point fingers until I have proof. And that… Is why you’re all here.” Mydeimos pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in exasperation.

“This cannot leave this room. No one else can know, not even my mother.” Every eye in the room was glued to his figure, pacing around them with an expression as serious as stone.

“Is that understood?”

A chorus of assurances filled the air.

“Of course Mydeimos!”

“You have my word, Your Highness.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this Mydeimos.”

“I promise.”

“Your wish is our command, you’re our leader after all.”

“Yes, my prince.”

He seemed satisfied with that at least, walking to where the now very conscious prisoner sat. Mydeimos leaned over, eyes practically glowing in the way they did when he wished to instill fear.

“You might as well tell it to us now. You’re not leaving this room otherwise.” His voice was gravelly and tired, but with all the dominance a crown prince could command.

The gulp could be heard by every man in the room.

“Perdikkas. He’s all yours.” Mydeimos signalled, retreating to sit on Phainon’s mattress. “I’ve sent word to my attendants that my schedule for the day has changed. I will not need to depart for a while.”

The medic nodded his head, opening the bag and rummaging through it.

“Let’s start with something easy.” Hephaestion rose to his feet, striding over to their captive who watched him with apprehension.

“Who sent you? Who wishes for Mydeimos to die?”

An expected silence.

“I’m not telling you anything.” The assassin muttered after a moment. “They’ll kill me if I do.”

“And we’ll kill you if you don’t.” Leonnius replied swiftly, shooting a glare from where he lingered near Perdikkas’ side.

“Trust me. I’d rather it be by your hands than theirs…” The man hissed, blinking when Perdikkas walked to his side.

“Well how would you rather it then? Hemlock? Nightshade? Or would you rather feel the might of our weapons on your flesh?” Perdikkas held up several vials, tilting his head in an innocuous way. “I can assure you none of those routes would be pleasant for you.”

“If you comply we might find reason to protect you.” Ptolemy hummed, clearly finding enjoyment in the way he squirmed. “After all, a well behaved informant would be rather useful to us.”

“A common form of entrapment. You want me to trust you, to think that there’s a way out so I divulge my secrets before you stab me in the back.”

“Ah! You’re not Kremnoan then. Though we had already figured that.” Ptolemy looked smug as he watched the way his eyes widened at having somehow given something away.

“A Kremnoan does not fear weapons in their back.” Peucesta muttered, gaining a nod from each Kremnoan in the room.

“So, that leaves us a few options. There aren’t many city states left that have the manpower for assassins… Aidonia, Styxia, Okhema, perhaps Janusopolis…” Ptolemy mused to himself, Leonnius raising his head.

“The eye of twilight?” He asked.

“Doubtful. They have little to no care of conflict upon the earth, and have their own internal struggles.”

“But why would any of these places care about the fate of the Kremnoan prince?” Phainon asked. “If it is a nature of war then surely the warmonger of a king is the ideal target.”

“Because this isn’t a matter of outside forces plotting against Kremnos.” Mydeimos huffed, making eye contact with his now bodyguard.

“You think it’s an inside job?” Hephaestion asked, eyes wide with surprise. “But… That would mean…”

Mydeimos looked back to the assassin, gritting his teeth. “Somebody within Castrum Kremnos hired a band of killers from an outsider source. These men travelled here with the intention to slay me under the pay of Kremnoan coin.”

His shoulders tensed slightly, Perdikkas picking up on the movement in their prisoner instantly.

“His Highness speaks the truth.”

“Where he comes from doesn’t matter. What matters is who hired him.” Mydeimos grunted, Phainon looking lost in thought.

“Then surely this man is… Okheman.” Ptolemy spoke as he found his own thought trail. “The narrative is perfect, Okheman assassins coming to kill the next promise of the Kremnoan throne. It paints them as the firestarters and puts Lord Phainon’s standing in a precarious position.”

Mydeimos nodded. “That is the conclusion we arrived at last night.” He looked to Phainon for confirmation but found that he was not listening, mumbling to himself before he raised his head with the look of sudden realisation.

“You’re a Cleaner, aren’t you?”

The assassin visibly scowled at him.

“Cleaner?” Mydeimos asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“I should have known from the garb but it has been a long time since I have seen one.” Phainon frowned, striding across the room to take Perdikkas’ place in front of the hunched figure. “They’re an order from all around Amphoreus, but I have encountered them in the walls of Okhema working for our Council.”

“So, a contract killer?” Hephaestion asked. “Then that doesn’t reall-”

“Not just any killer.” Phainon interrupted, looking at him with an apologetic expression. “They… Their main targets are those called Chrysos Heirs.”

“The ones chosen by your prophecy.” Mydeimos rested his head in his hand, propping himself up by his knee.

“They fight for a purpose, they aren’t just blind mercenaries.” Phainon glanced to Mydeimos’ arms, eyes trailing along the rivers of his veins. “They would have needed a reason to come after you.”

“I speak the truth. Don’t I?” Phainon whispered, antagonistic daggers glaring into the Cleaner at his feet.

“I have no idea what you’re talking abou-” the denial was met with a swift kick to the chin, a loud crack filling the room as blood sprayed from nostrils.

Phainon was the very picture of a warrior, ridding himself of that boyish charm. “I apologise.” He spoke, voice cold and dripping with malice. “It has been a while since I really intended to hurt a human, most of my moves are used on titankin these days… Perhaps I overdid it.” Phainon’s tone lowered, dropping to one knee. He beckoned for Perdikkas to hand him one of the vials, holding it up to the assassin’s eyes.

“Let me repeat myself. I speak the truth. Don’t I?” The Cleaner frowned, realising that Phainon truly meant business with him as the blood slowly dried. Survival instincts was something no true human could reject.

“If I kill you here, no amount of alchemy from that order of yours would be able to remake you. You’ll join your friends from last night. There will never be another you. You will die here, and remain dead until Amphoreus is no more.”

The cohort exchanged wary glances between Phainon and their prince, trying to gauge his reaction to Phainon’s sudden change in persona. Mydeimos did not appear troubled, nor did he appear displeased. In fact, it was the most content they had seen him all morning, a flicker of something unknown in his eyes.

“Yes. You speak the truth.” The Cleaner gave up eventually, sighing in relief as Phainon lowered the vial of poison.

“So, who gave you the tip? Who sent you after the prince?”

Perdikkas looked well and truly stumped at how his interrogation had been overruled by the people around him. He dropped his bag gently to Phainon’s feet, the young lord giving him a nod of appreciation.

The assassin squeezed his eyes closed, having accepted that his fate was doomed either way.

“As if I would tell a Chrysos Heir.” He muttered, spitting venom at Phainon’s boots.

“Would you tell any of them?” Phainon asked, gesturing to the prince’s companions around the room.

“No… They are all tainted by your golden blood…” The Cleaner hissed, glaring up at him. “You’re nothing more than a usurper, stealing power for yourself and leaving everyone else to rot.”

“My my what pretty pictures are they painting of me in the Holy City during my absence? Last time I checked I had done nothing of the sort.”

“I’m not telling you anything more than I already have.”

Phainon nodded his head and rose to his feet, looming above him as his lips turned upwards into a smile.

“Very well then. You’ve given us more than enough already.” Phainon took a step back, gesturing for Perdikkas to resume his post.

“I say we keep him for three days, let the hunger get to him. If he still does not talk we put him out of his misery.” Leonnius hummed, propping himself up against Perdikkas’ shoulder.

“Do we not have some magical potion that can force him to tell the truth?” Mydeimos groaned, laying back on the bed with a frustrated countenance.

“I’m afraid such an item does not exist, Your Highness.” Ptolemy chuckled.

Peucesta stood by the window, analysing the movement of the sun. “You should go about your day Mydeimos, it is fast approaching lunch.”

The prince seemed quite less than happy about the thought of attending to royal duties, not wishing to leave his companions alone in such a tense situation.

“Phainon you can go with him.” Hephaestion chirped up, looking more than happy to pair them up on an escapade. “After all you’re his official bodyguard now, aren’t you?”

“Ah- not quite yet.” Phainon rubbed the back of his neck with a shy face as if he had not been threatening the assassin merely minutes prior. “We have not actually announced anything.”

“Well then perhaps that’s something you can put on the list! I’m sure Her Majesty would be delighted at the prospect.”

Mydeimos sighed and reluctantly got to his feet, moving to stand by Phainon’s side. He folded his arms as he looked at Hephaestion, consulting his tone and the way his smile shifted between the two of them.

“You’re up to something Hephaestion.”

“Not at all! I just think it would be safer if the prince has an escort. And Phainon is clearly the best candidate if we are to remove any suspicion from his shoulders!”

Mydeimos glanced at the slightly taller white-haired man at his side. “I suppose…” He couldn’t exactly argue with his friend’s logic, the reasoning was sound.

“So go, go! If there are any updates then we will send Leonnius for you immediately!” Hephaestion practically pushed them to the door of Phainon’s bedroom, shooing them out with a bright smile.

“Do not worry! We have this perfectly under control!”

Mydeimos waved him off, grumbling something under his breath as he trudged back down the hall to his bedroom. He was still wearing his bedclothes, hair still a mess and bags still glaring obvious under his eyes.

Phainon stood gawking in the middle of the hallway, about to open his mouth in protest before Hephaestion squealed a hasty “Goodbye!” and closed the door to his own bedroom right in his face.

“I… Bye?” Phainon looked puzzled but quickly shadowed Mydeimos’ steps, following the prince back to his chambers.

Hephaestion exhaled a breath of relief when he could hear the sound of retreating footsteps. He leaned his back against the door and turned to his comrades, giving them a small thumbs up.

“Now that he cannot see… It gives us a perfect time to demonstrate our loyalty to the fullest.”

Notes:

Another chapter!!!!!!!!! I love writing the interactions between Mydei's friends it's genuinely my fave thing to do for this fic. Hephaestion giving them some alone time... He's onto something. Was also reminiscing about how hot Phainon was when threatening the cleaners in 3.3.

I hope you're all enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying weaving it all together!

3.4 soon... Scared