Archive of Our Own ^beta

“On second thought,” Phainon says, turning back, “I’ll keep you company for a little longer.” He almost manages to not sound too heartbroken.

The roads leading home are long, and longer when traveled alone, so Mydeimos does not push him away, question his motives, or argue as he’d usually do. A resolved last act of clemency, and it makes Phainon dare believe that, perhaps, he will be missed as well.

The city and its people fade away like a memory with each step they take, the two of them alone amongst the mountains and the skies outside of Okhema, and unfamiliarity settles in.

Mydeimos is leaving. 

Now that they’re away from the people’s prying ears, Phainon is at a loss for words. Part of him wants to have faith they’ll see each other again, and another knows this is the last time they’ll stand next to each other, and Phainon never lost a fight with Mydei by his side yet he feels defeated. Mydeimos remains quiet as well.

Silence is unusual for them, and separation even more. They bicker, and they fight, and they kiss and make up but they don’t part. 

Phainon’s heart wilts when he thinks of all the times they’d allow their fingers to brush just a second too long in passing, of when they’d trade looks that only they could understand, of all this happiness he has to give away.

He dreams of extending his hand and seeing for himself whether the warmth of Mydeimos’ skin has changed with his ascension, whether the beating pulse he’s searched many times in the creek of his wrist, the lines of his neck and the secret of his heart still chants proudly. Phainon’s is quiet like an abandoned city, and the treasure in his chest has been stolen and left enough space to build a shrine in its place.

So he blames the gods, all of them. Thinks about how they took so much from him already and yet still take more, greedy and cruel, and he wishes he could burn down the prophecy and all of the titans alongside it. Remembering a time where he was curious about the nature of divinity has him wishing he had never learned. 

His hand remains idle at his side.

Godhood is this silence and impending loneliness, he thinks. It’s knowing the end has come and still throwing a prayer out to the skies in a plea for time to stretch a little longer. Godhood is not being able to freely touch, and it is something--someone, that was so close and is now departing. But even close as he was, tightly locked within his arms and branded by his kisses, Mydeimos was never his. 

Mydeimos belongs to Kremnos and always has. There lies his throne, and his crown, and his people, all painting a beautiful picture where Phainon is nowhere to be seen. Still, he had foolishly entertained the thought that, perhaps, he could become someone important enough for Mydei to waver over. To hesitate. 

Yet Mydeimos walks forward without any doubt.

“Will you remember me, at least?” Phainon asks then, the wild part of the road coming into view.  From there on this path must be walked alone, no matter how badly he wishes otherwise. The sky bleeds red and so does the earth and so does he, his whole world screaming in agony without enough tears to console it. 

Mydeimos looks to the horizon ahead and then to Phainon. He brushes some hair out of his eyes, the very gesture Phainon hadn't dared try, the very last. 

“Always.”

His hand scalds.

Godhood is unfair, unbearably so. Mydeimos doesn't ask him the same in return, refusing to ask anything out of him or willing to be forgotten.

Phainon will never forget. Nor Mydeimos, neither the glory of the now fallen Kremnos, even if it’s something he’s only witnessed through its prince alone. He’ll remember each of the fights they had and their every embrace, remember all the times he should have said something and didn't, hesitating, even now. His steps slow to a halt while Mydeimos continues on.

There is no word to convince him to stay, the same way there is no word for love in the Kremnoan language. 

Phainon wishes there was no word for goodbye either.  

Mydeimos turns and smiles in a way he's never done before. Resolved yet sorrowful, and like he will always cherish the memories of them. For making it the first and the last time he’ll witness it, and for binding them to this parting fate, Phainon will hate every god except one.

“Farewell, Mydeimos,” he says.

Farewell, my love.