Chapter Text
The royal palace of Castrum Kremnos looms overhead, and Phainon swallows dryly as he stares, frozen in place, at the grand, towering structure.
It isn’t his first visit to the mobile city-state, but it certainly is the first time he’s seen the royal family’s abode up close. Most of the time, he had only witnessed the palace in the distance, dwarfing everything around it. It had looked big then, but seeing it up close, he could barely comprehend the scale of the structure.
“What are you gawking at?”
Phainon jumps at the gruff voice behind him, and he swivels around, glaring at the perpetrator: his boyfriend, who is none other than the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos. The rightful heir to the throne, and a resident of this grand palace. “Don’t scare me like that, Mydei!”
Mydei quirks an eyebrow as he stares at Phainon. “...We’ve been together the entire time. There’s no reason for you to be startled by my presence now.” As he scrutinizes his boyfriend a little more, he crosses his arms. “Why are you so nervous? It’s not like my status as the crown prince is a secret.”
“Well, it just…” Calming himself down, Phainon looks away with a sheepish smile. “It just finally sunk in, how big your home is. How do you even make it from one end to the other without taking up the entire day? Do you ever run late for all those meetings that you royals have to attend?”
“Is the size of my palace really that difficult for you to fathom?”
“Mydei,” Phainon says, his exasperation escaping him as a small laugh as he looks around the palace’s garden. “My house in Aedes Elysiae is probably as big as one of the flower beds. You’ll have to forgive me for being a little overwhelmed.”
“You speak as if you haven’t spent the past decade frequenting Marmoreal Palace in Okhema,” Mydei says with a roll of his eyes before he brushes past him. “Enough. Hurry up and get moving. Mother has been anticipating our arrival, and I’ll not have you keep her waiting.”
Without a moment of hesitation, the prince strides into the palace. Not wanting to be left alone on the grounds, the swordsman jogs after him, finding himself no less intimidated as the expansive grounds transition into high walls and arches, with ceilings that he can barely see the beginnings of. The palace somehow looks even bigger from the inside than the outside, and yet every corner of it seems to be bustling with activity from servants, guards, what have you. But no matter how occupied each of them seem to be, the moment they catch sight of Mydei, all of them stop what they’re doing and bow their heads.
It’s captivating to Phainon the first few times, witnessing the reverence that his boyfriend commands with his presence alone, but after a while, he starts feeling a little awkward. He’s just been walking behind Mydei like he has nary a care in the world (even though that could not be further from the truth right now), and he starts wondering whether he should also start bowing to the prince as well.
Of course, ever attuned to the subtlest changes in Phainon’s body language, Mydei sighs and stops, glancing back at him. “Your constant fidgeting is beginning to get on my nerves. What’s bothering you now?”
Stopping himself before he can walk into Mydei, Phainon looks away, scratching his cheek. “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just wondering… Should I bow? Since everyone in the palace seems to be doing it.”
Mydei stares at him. “You preoccupy yourself with the most useless things,” he says, before a smug smirk slowly spreads across his face. “If you want to get down on your knees before me, there will be plenty of time to do that in my personal chambers afterwards. You’ll just have to be patient until then, Deliverer.”
Phainon’s face turns red. “You—” he begins, and Mydei only laughs at his flustered response, continuing on without turning back, leaving the swordsman to jog after him begrudgingly. Infuriatingly enough, the quip had dispelled some of the nervousness that had taken hold of Phainon, at least for the moment, mostly because Phainon spends the rest of the walk trying to figure out how to get Mydei back for it.
Perhaps that was Mydei’s intention all along. The man really knows him too well.
Unfortunately, when the queen’s chambers rise into view, Phainon’s heart starts pounding again, not only because they’re about to come face-to-face with one of the sovereigns of Castrum Kremnos, but because he’s about to meet Mydei’s mother.
He gulps, and Mydei glances at him again.
“Lose that nervousness, Deliverer. Introducing one another to our parents was your idea in the first place.”
Phainon shoots him a dirty look. “...Because that’s the normal thing to do? What exactly were you planning?”
“I had intended to announce our relationship at the last moment. Perhaps after I had become king.”
“Are you serious?” A beat. “What if the people disapproved of your decision?”
“Then I would invite them to challenge me to a duel.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that, actually…”
“It’s too late to back out now. We’re here.” As a set of ornate doors rise into view, Mydei stops, then turns to face Phainon directly, glaring at him. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour, Deliverer. Make sure you show her the respect that she is owed.”
Right. There’s no getting out of this one. Mydei’s right, anyway—it had been Phainon’s idea, and turning tail and running now would definitely leave a terrible impression on the Kremnoan queen. Swallowing his nerves, Phainon nods. “I will… I’m ready.”
“Good.”
Without further ado, Mydei places his hands on the large, arched doors and slowly pushes them open.
The chamber that spreads before them is spacious and lavish, certainly befitting of a queen. Phainon would take the opportunity to take in as much of the details as he can, but his eyes are instead drawn to the elegant figure standing at the window. Upon hearing the doors open, she turns and regards the two men with a practiced smile.
“I’ve been waiting, Mydeimos. And you…”
Her eyes fall on Phainon, and he finds himself swallowing dryly again. Queen Gorgo is rather frail-looking, but she bears the eyes of a lioness, and despite towering over her, Phainon feels small in her formidable presence. The silks she is draped in only barely disguise the scars that litter her exposed arms, and most likely the rest of her body—scars that she no doubt wears as badges of honour—and she carries herself with both the confidence of a soldier who has seen countless victories and the authority of a ruler of the city of warriors. And yet, she also moves with an elegance befitting of a royal, and Phainon can immediately see where Mydei gets his own leonine grace from.
As she draws closer, Phainon instinctively kneels. Beside him, Mydei sighs. “What are you doing…?”
“She’s the queen!” Phainon hisses. “You just told me to show her the respect she’s owed!”
Queen Gorgo watches the sight with amusement before allowing a chuckle to escape her lips. “No need for formalities. Mydeimos considers you his equal, and if he is allowed to stand in my presence, so are you. Raise your head. I would like to see the face of the one who has captured my son’s heart.”
Phainon rises as he’s commanded, trying to keep his nervous disposition in check as he faces Queen Gorgo as bravely as he can. She stares at his face, so intensely that Phainon almost feels like she’s going to burn a hole right through him—much like a lioness observing her prey.
It really does run in the family.
Then, the sensation is gone, and she nods approvingly.
“Those are good eyes.” She turns to Mydei, and mother and son exchange a brief glance before she speaks again. “You’ve chosen well, Mydeimos.”
“Of course,” Mydei replies, and though he says it casually, Phainon can tell he’s preening at his mother’s praise. It almost wants to make him roll his eyes, but he forces himself to remain on his best behaviour.
“So…” Phainon begins slowly, turning back to the queen. “Does that mean…?”
“Relax, boy,” Queen Gorgo says with another small chuckle. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. My son has already told me about you in great detail. He mentions you in every letter he sends, and he speaks of you with nothing but the most fervent adoration.”
Phainon blinks and turns to Mydei, surprised, as the prince clears his throat loudly. “Mother…”
“What’s the matter, Mydeimos? There’s no need to shy away from expressing your affections for the boy. Anyone who has managed to captivate you in the way Phainon has must be formidable indeed.”
At that, Phainon smiles meekly, scratching the back of his head. Some of the nervousness dissipates in the sheepish chuckle that escapes his throat, leaving him feeling less on edge than he was when he walked into the room. “I’m really nothing that special…”
“Ha!” Queen Gorgo laughs almost boisterously, and Phainon has definitely begun to see where Mydei gets much of his demeanor from. “There is a fine line between humility and self-flagellation, young man. Rest assured, though you may appear to be a soft boy, I see the strength in your eyes. I am confident in Mydeimos’ choice.” She smiles warmly, beckoning the two over to a table prepared with Kremnoan pastries and drinks. “Come. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I’ve been eager to hear more about your feats on the battlefield—”
They’re interrupted when the doors swing open a second time, leaving Phainon to wonder who could possibly be brave enough to barge into the queen’s chambers without a word of warning. A heavy-set, towering man dressed in the garb of a soldier on the march enters the room, and Queen Gorgo quirks an eyebrow, while Mydei clicks his tongue, annoyed.
“Father…”
Oh. He’s the king. Phainon briefly wonders whether he should kneel in his presence too, but Queen Gorgo begins speaking first.
“You’re back early, Eurypon. Were you not supposed to be campaigning until the end of the week?”
“Some affairs required my immediate attention in Castrum Kremnos, so I made haste back here. It seems I’ve arrived just in time,” King Eurypon replies, his eyes scanning the room and eventually settling on Phainon, who barely resists the urge to shift uncomfortably. “So he is the suitor Mydeimos has chosen?”
Confused, Phainon quickly looks to Mydei, whispering, “Wait, you…didn’t tell the king about this meeting?”
“Because I knew it would complicate things,” Mydei responds with a scowl, crossing his arms and glaring at his father. “Yes, Father. This is the man who will rule Castrum Kremnos alongside me when I am crowned king—the man I fought for ten consecutive days and nights. I trust you have no complaints?”
King Eurypon remains silent, his eyes unreadable as he continues scrutinizing Phainon. The relaxed atmosphere from before is gone, replaced by a palpable tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. Then, the king crosses his arms too, mirroring his son while shaking his head.
“Unfortunately… I’m afraid I’m going to need more than just your word to convince me that he is capable of ruling alongside you, Mydeimos.”
Even before the words sink in, Phainon sees Mydei’s eyebrow twitch, and he quickly grasps the prince’s arm as he takes a threatening step forward. “Father, you…”
“Mydei, calm down…!”
Queen Gorgo, however, remains calm, her expression unchanging as observes her husband coolly. “You do not trust our son’s judgment, Eurypon? He has proven time and time again that he has what it takes to be the king. Surely, his competence includes his choice in partners—especially when you consider that this one is one of the heroes of Amphoreus.”
“This inheritance is no trivial matter, Gorgo. I would be an irresponsible king if I were to hand Castrum Kremnos to someone I know nothing about,” Eurypon replies. “The boy’s feats have, thus far, only reached Castrum Kremnos through hearsay. I will need more… proof of his worth.”
“Proof of his worth?” Mydei scoffs. “Those are bold words from someone who once sowed chaos and turmoil across the land! Phainon is one hundred times your better, and he has already displayed his competence by securing the fate of the entirety of Amphoreus. He has nothing he needs to prove!”
Phainon is beginning to wonder whether he has unintentionally started a family feud. Or maybe a royal power struggle. Either way, he’s uncomfortable with all the attention he’s getting, and he tugs on Mydei’s sleeve. “Mydei, I’m flattered, but you really don’t have to—”
“Again, those are empty words, Mydeimos,” King Eurypon replies, talking over Phainon as he stares his son down. “If you are so assured of his capabilities, then I must see it for myself.”
Mydei glares back at his father. “Very well, then. You shall bear witness to Phainon’s strength when he defeats you in a duel.”
Phainon’s mind goes blank.
Wait, what?
Had Mydei been serious? He glances nervously at the prince’s eyes, which are now locked with his father’s. Oh Titans, he is being serious. And King Eurypon is taking his proposition seriously too, from the looks of it.
He tugs on Mydei’s sleeve a little more desperately now, the colour draining from his face. “Um, Mydei… I don’t—”
“Oh? How interesting…” King Eurypon’s eyes narrow, moving from Mydei back to Phainon, as if he had been the one audacious enough to issue the challenge. “Very well, then. In three days time, we will reconvene in the arena during the Lucent Hour. I expect to see you there.”
Without leaving any room for argument, the king turns on his heel and leaves the room with a flourish of his cloak, leaving Mydei glowering at the place the king once stood. Queen Gorgo sighs softly, then turns to Phainon. “I must apologize on my husband’s behalf… He is rather rigid, and quite set in his ways.”
“That’s putting things in very kind terms,” Mydei growls. His mood has soured considerably, but when he receives none of the words of comfort that Phainon is wont to offer whenever he notices the prince is grumpy, he turns to regard the swordsman. Phainon is frozen in place, and though he can’t see his own complexion, he must be pallid, and the prince raises his eyebrows, bewildered by the sight. “...What’s the matter with you now, Deliverer?”
The swordsman almost wants to laugh at the question. Can Mydei really not see the ludicrousness of this entire situation?
“Mydeimos,” Phainon breathes through gritted teeth, staring wildly at his boyfriend as if to will him to say something, anything, to indicate that this is some kind of royal prank. “You just volunteered me to duel the King of Castrum Kremnos.”
And Mydei only responds with a nonchalant shrug. “So I did. What of it?”
This man was going to be the death of him.
“What do you mean ‘what of it?!’ He’s the KING!”
“So? I’m the crown prince. You duel me regularly, and you even win sometimes.”
“That’s different! Also, I win more than just sometimes!”
“I don’t see the problem then,” Mydei says, still far too indifferent about the entire affair for Phainon’s liking. “I’m stronger than my father. If the likes of you can achieve victory against me, then he should be an easy opponent.”
“There is some merit to what my husband had said as well,” Queen Gorgo adds. “Many Kremnoans have already heard of the tales. You and Mydeimos are among the twelve heroes who unified this land and repelled imminent destruction, so most will not oppose your union… Even so, having the king’s explicit approval will help sway the few dissenters in your favour.”
“So there are politics involved, too?” Phainon asks helplessly.
“Unfortunately. Although you will find that they are not nearly as convoluted as the affairs of other city-states. After all, we Kremnoans believe in strength above all, and we settle most of our internal disputes through battle—much like Mydeimos has suggested that you do now.” The queen gives Phainon an encouraging smile, then reaches over to pat him on the arm, though it feels more like a punch than anything else. He gingerly rubs the spot she hit after she withdraws her hand. “You will do fine, young Phainon. You would not imply that my son’s faith in you is misplaced, would you?”
Phainon glances at Mydei, who stares at him expectantly in return. Unwilling to disappoint both his lover and the queen, the swordsman shakes his head. “...No. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good answer.” Her eyes crinkle with her smile. “To be honest, I am quite looking forward to your fight against my husband. I would like to witness your prowess firsthand myself, after what Mydeimos has said about you.”
The swordsman falls silent, allowing himself some time to swallow the rest of his misgivings and turn to Mydei. “Mydeimos… Will you spar with me in preparation for my duel with the king?”
The request puts the smile back on Mydei’s face. “Thought you’d never ask.”
As he expects, fighting is the most effective way to vent his nervous energy, and by their fifth bout, Phainon is already feeling much better about the entire situation. He and Mydei continue going until the sun trespasses into the second half of the horizon before they decide to take a break, setting their weapons down and retreating into the shade to take shelter from the sweltering afternoon heat.
“So King Eurypon is the reason you wanted to keep our relationship a secret until the last moment?” Phainon asks as they catch their breath. Now that he thinks about it, Mydei had rarely ever spoken about his father in the time they've known each other. “But…why? Do you have a bad relationship with him? You behaved totally differently around him than you did around the queen…”
“Because while he is my mother’s equal in strength, his heart and mind are much weaker,” Mydei says without missing a beat. “It only follows that I would not show him the same level of respect as I would to her.”
“That can’t be the only reason. I know you better than that, Mydei.”
The crown prince pauses, then sighs. “It’s…complicated,” he finally says. “I do not deny what he has done for me in my youth…but lately, he and I have been unable to see eye-to-eye on many issues, and he has also become quite difficult. It has been straining our relationship somewhat.” He narrows his eyes, glaring at a blade of grass. “I also dislike the way he rules, but there is nothing to be done about that until I become the king.”
Phainon pulls his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them as he observes Mydei curiously. “So what would you have done if you dropped the news on him and he disapproved of us—well, disapproved of me, I guess—like he did earlier?”
“Like I said, I simply would have challenged him to a duel myself,” Mydei replies simply. “And I would have won.”
“You toe the line between confidence and arrogance so often, Mydei…”
“Is it truly arrogance if I know my own strength? I’ve defeated him once before. I can do it again.” He throws a lazy glance over his shoulder at Phainon. “You ought to learn from my example, Deliverer. You’ve faced horrors beyond mortal comprehension without quailing. Be more confident in yourself, or it won’t just be my father who doubts you.”
The subtle jab aside, Phainon can’t deny that Mydei’s self-assuredness is one of the things that had drawn him to the prince in the first place, and certainly the trait that inspires him to better himself. Feeling more motivated by the prince’s words—again, Mydei seems to have that kind of sway over him—Phainon gets up off the ground.
“How about a few more rounds, Mydei?” he asks, holding out a hand for Mydei to take. The prince gives him a crooked smile and allows Phainon to pull him to his feet, and the two throw themselves at each other once again.
He spends the rest of the day sparring with Mydei in preparation for the duel, and by the time they return to the palace, an entire feast has been prepared for them. While Phainon would have normally been left dumbstruck by the food available, he finds himself without much appetite, picking at the food on his plate until Mydei gets tired of seeing it and starts shoving food into his mouth, much to the amusement of the servants nearby. Not wanting to lose face but still painfully aware of his position as a guest, Phainon makes a mental note to get back at Mydei for this indignity at a later date, obediently finishing the rest of his meal. He’s at least physically tired from his sparring matches with the prince, and after they clean up and head to Mydei's personal chambers together, Phainon ends up falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillows.
He wants to devote the second day to training as well, but Mydei insists that he rests. A weary body and mind often lead to fatal errors on the battlefield—a sentiment that Phainon would agree with for anyone other than himself, as he would rather throw himself himself fully into a task that he has set out to complete. However, Mydei does a fine job at keeping him distracted, and by the end of a productive day, the exhausted Phainon once more drifts off to sleep in the prince’s arms, his troubles feeling much farther away.
The day of the duel arrives, and unfortunately, Phainon’s nervousness is back in full force, but it’s not because of the duel itself. As he stands in one of the shadowy corridors leading out into the arena, he feels himself shrinking away from the cheering he hears outside—the cheering of thousands of eager citizens, all of whom had flocked to the stadium to watch the showdown between the king and his challenger.
“When you told me this was going to be a duel, I thought it’d just be a simple one-on-one sparring match…” Phainon begins, just barely managing to keep his voice under control—with limited success. “But why is the whole kingdom watching?!”
Mydei, as usual, is far too calm for his liking, shrugging as if this is the most normal occurrence in the world. “You’re basically fighting for the crown prince’s hand in marriage. Why wouldn’t you expect this amount of fanfare?”
“Shouldn’t you be the one out there?! You just told me two days ago that it was your plan to duel the king from the very start!”
“I also said that I had already defeated him once before. That’s how I was able to secure my position as the next king,” Mydei says plainly. “The kingdom already knows of my strength. But both the Kremnoans and my father need to see yours as well, so they can be confident that their crown prince has made the correct choice.”
No pressure, right? Phainon feels himself wilting under the mounting expectations. “If I lose to him in front of everyone…”
“You won’t.”
The words are spoken with such assuredness that it snaps Phainon out of his whirl of self-doubt, and he raises his head slowly, looking with uncertainty into Mydei’s eyes. What he sees is nothing but the deepest reverence—absolute faith that his lover will emerge victorious.
“Come, Deliverer,” Mydei says, offering him a hand, and Phainon is struck silent at the gallant sight. “The king is waiting.”
Phainon stares at the prince’s outstretched palm, then slowly reaches over and places his hand in it. Mydei’s fingers close around his own with a delicacy so rarely seen in his actions, and as the prince guides him through the rest of the hall, Phainon can almost imagine that he is instead leading him down the aisle instead of to a colosseum battle with the king.
The moment is over in an instant. He steps into the open with Mydei, and the blinding sun beats down on him, and the cacophony of the crowd’s roars inundates his ears, and he flinches as he tries to adjust to the light and the noise. When he does, he sees King Eurypon standing at the center of the ring, his spear and shield at the ready. Slowly, Mydei lets go of Phainon’s hand and retreats to the side of the arena, where Queen Gorgo is also waiting, leaving the swordsman alone with the king.
King Eurypon draws himself to his full height, staring his challenger down. “So you’ve come. I must commend you for not fleeing.”
Though nervous, Phainon easily slips into one of his many masks, offering the other man a practiced, confident smile. “I’m not one to back down from a challenge, Your Majesty.” Even if I wasn’t the one who issued it in the first place. “For a man like Mydeimos, proving my worth to his father is the least I could do.”
“Hmph. You’re certainly well-spoken. A fine trait for a future sovereign—but not quite enough. After all, we Kremnoans value martial prowess above all else.” King Eurypon brandishes his spear and primes his shield, and Phainon draws his greatsword in response. “Let’s see if you can back up your words with the strength Mydeimos speaks so highly of.”
Seeing the two warriors ready for battle, the entire arena falls silent, the air thick with anticipation as both men quietly observe each other in their standoff. Every audience member is at the edge of their seats, wondering just who will make the first strike.
It’s King Eurypon who does.
He comes at Phainon blindingly fast, but Phainon is ready for him, quickly blocking the pre-emptive attack with his sword. The impact travels through his forearms, not as powerful as Mydei’s blows, but strong all the same. He braces his heels into the ground, standing firm as he parries the next attacks that come, each faster than the last. King Eurypon has the advantage, using his spear’s superior length to keep Phainon at a safe distance, but he doesn’t merely hide behind the weapon—it’s clear that he has the technique to match his strength, and Phainon can recognize that if he isn’t careful, he will be sorely punished.
He remains conservative in his approach, observing his opponent carefully, weaving around his attacks, and striking during the rare times he can find an opening. Phainon takes pride in his own technique and has honed his physical strength as well, and there are several clashes where he’s able to force the king back. The small victories embolden him to begin attacking more aggressively, with the aim of completely quashing King Eurypon’s ability to retaliate.
However, during one clash, the king is able to repel Phainon’s sword with his spear, locking the weapons together before charging forward in the opening he creates. The shaft keeps the edge of Phainon's claymore away, gliding along weapon as the point of the spear zeroes in on its wielder’s head, and the startled Phainon swerves to the side to avoid a direct hit. He’s not quick enough to come out of the attack completely unscathed—the spear glances past his cheek, leaving a trail of golden blood behind. A superficial wound, yet still dangerously close to taking his eye out.
…Huh?
The spear withdraws, then comes at him again just as quickly, and he’s forced to quickly block the attack before it pierces his heart, and during the brief moment their weapons lock again, he finally meets his opponent’s eyes, which are ablaze with bloodlust.
Oh, Titans.
King Eurypon is actually trying to kill him.
The sudden, dreadful realization must be obvious on Phainon’s face, for a bold look enters the king’s eyes—like a predator feasting on the fear of its prey. It really does run in the family.
“What’s the matter, boy?” he asks with a sneer. “This is no time for hesitation. You are on a battlefield, and I will have you treating it like one.”
From the sidelines, Mydei groans heavily as he watches the battle progress, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That old fool…”
“You know how your father is, Mydeimos,” Queen Gorgo replies knowingly. “To truly test a warrior’s mettle, they must be forced to tread the threshold between life and death—that’s what he believes.” She glances at her son with a smile. “And yet you don’t seem worried about Phainon at all.”
“Because I’m not,” Mydei says, his eyes returning to Phainon and remaining fixed on his form. “This is nothing for him."
Ignorant to the conversation the queen and the prince are sharing, Phainon desperately dances around King Eurypon’s attacks. He hasn’t taken another hit since the initial one, but still, the spear aims at his vitals every single time, keeping him on the defensive. It’s all he can do to block, parry, and dodge the would-be fatal blows, but King Eurypon doesn’t seem particularly impressed with his approach.
“Come now, don’t tell me that all you know how to do is defend?!” the king roars over the singing of metal. “You will never triumph over me with such cowardly tactics!”
He’s trying to taunt him into making a mistake. Phainon knows this. Like father, like son… Such a comparison would probably annoy Mydei, but he’s too preoccupied to worry about what the prince might think of his thoughts right now. Instead, he forces himself to keep a cool head despite the mounting pressure. King Eurypon is clearly a skilled warrior with decades of experience in battle, and he does well to conceal his weaknesses. But no soldier is perfect, and given enough time, the flaws in his fighting style will soon start revealing themselves.
Between the exchanged blows, Phainon’s mind drifts back to what Queen Gorgo said about her husband. The king is supposedly rigid, set in his ways, inflexible. That implies that his attacks all follow some kind of pattern—a pattern that Phainon can exploit. His eyes dart between King Eurypon’s spear and his feet. His footwork… Yes, footwork is vital, and a single misstep can cost a warrior their life. Phainon can’t bank on someone as experienced as the king making any missteps, but he can watch for any minute imbalances and take advantage of them.
“Eyes on me, boy!”
King Eurypon attacks him again, and Phainon parries the oncoming flurry of jabs before locking weapons with his opponent once more, his arms shaking as the weapon bears down on him. Despite his unfavourable position, his heart pounds with anticipation. This is the opportunity he’s been waiting for, and he just needs to wait for the right moment. Based on how the king had responded to similar stalemates, he’s going to attempt to knock Phainon off balance. But if he times his own movements correctly…
King Eurypon lunges forward abruptly, and at that exact same instant, Phainon steps back, giving way. Having expected much more resistance, the king overcompensates for their positions and loses balance, his eyes widening in shock, already trying to reorient himself—but that split second is all Phainon needs to turn the tables.
In one fluid motion, he knocks the spear out of the king’s hands and sends him sprawling to the ground. The weapon spins through the air, plunging into the ground far out of reach. And when King Eurypon attempts to scramble to his feet, he is met with the tip of a blade at his neck.
The battle has been decided, and Phainon is the victor.
“Do you yield?” the swordsman asks calmly, despite the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. At a loss for words, King Eurypon stares at the greatsword primed at his throat, his mouth falling slightly ajar in surprise. The entire arena has gone silent, and for a few blissful moments, Phainon almost forgets that there are people watching.
And then, raucous applause erupts around him, and that’s what it takes to snap Phainon out of the zone he had slipped into and realize that he had just pointed his sword at the king’s neck. In front of every Kremnoan in the kingdom.
“Um—” The realization hits him like a ton of bricks. Should he step away? Should he sheathe his sword? Had he potentially just squandered his chances with Mydei by humiliating his father in front of his people? His mind racing with the possibilities, each worse than the last, he remains frozen in place until he hears King Eurypon’s booming laughter coming from below him.
“Well, now… I must admit that I underestimated you. You certainly gave me more of a challenge than I thought you would. I haven’t enjoyed myself like that since the day I met my wife, or the day my son challenged me for the throne,” he says, chuckling, and Phainon can see a genuine smile through his beard. “Help me up, boy. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Phainon nearly drops his sword in his scramble to move to the king’s side, taking his outstretched hand and pulling him to his feet. Unexpectedly, Eurypon keeps a firm grip on Phainon’s wrist, and before he can stop him, he raises Phainon’s arm for the crowd—displaying to the Kremnoans the undisputed victor of the duel.
The entire colosseum erupts into even more thunderous applause, and Phainon blinks at the reception he’s getting. Unsure of what to do with so many eyes on him, his head swivels around for Mydei for reassurance, and he spots the crown prince still standing in his spot at the side of the arena, his arms crossed, a proud smile on his face, almost as if he himself is basking in the glory that Phainon had just achieved.
When the cheers die down and Eurypon lets Phainon’s arm drop, Mydei crosses the stadium, briskly walking towards the swordsman. With his heart still pounding and his legs feeling like jelly, Phainon has all the mind to run into his arms and let him carry him away, but he forces himself to retain an ounce of decorum—at least until they get out of the public eye. So, he simply turns to face him instead, staring at him imploringly and silently pleading him for some guidance on how he should conduct himself before the Kremnoans after just defeating their king—
“Mydei—”
—but Mydei doesn’t stop as he expects him to. Instead, before he can say anything else, the prince wraps his arm around his waist and kisses him deeply, practically dipping him as he does. Phainon’s cheeks turn bright red as Mydei holds the kiss, not a sound of protest escaping his lips even though he should be protesting because they’re not alone, they’re not in the privacy of their homes or the safety of Okhema , but he is so easy when it comes to Mydei and Mydei has a way of silencing every single one of his complaints, just as he has a way of quieting the self-doubt that runs rampant through his mind. When Mydei releases the kiss, it’s only so he can mouth what he wants to say against Phainon’s lips.
“Well done, Deliverer.”
The words barely register before the world spins briefly again. Mydei easily sweeps Phainon off his feet, still smiling up at him fondly, proudly. He resists the urge to immediately get comfortable, because even though Mydei’s arms are his favourite place in the world, there are even louder cheers sounding from all around him again and he’s absolutely mortified at the reminder that the entire kingdom is watching.
“Mydei,” Phainon’s voice comes out as something that sounds more like a squeak than anything else as he holds onto Mydei’s shoulders stiffly. “We’re not… The Kremnoans are…”
“Let them see.”
“Mydei?!”
“Let the world know,” Mydei says, the smile not leaving his face, “That Phainon of Aedes Elysiae is the only man worthy of Mydeimos—the only man whom I ever will choose, in this lifetime, and all the ones that come after.”
He’s too easy.
Phainon is far too easy when it comes to Mydeimos.
The words melt his heart, and he temporarily forgets his embarrassment, his indignation, his everything, simply throwing his arms around Mydei’s shoulders and burying his face into the crook of his neck as he curls closer into his body. He feels Mydei’s gentle laughter, followed by his lips against his temple, and that is enough to drown out all the noise and finally allow him to indulge in his triumph and Mydei's warm love.