Archive of Our Own ^beta

What struck him the most about life in Aedes Elysiae was not the natural beauty of the landscape (in all his travels, nowhere else had he seen clouds dyed in quite the same mesmerizing shade as they appeared here, enveloping mountains and seeming to merge identities with the ocean at the distant, radiant horizon) nor the friendliness of the villagers (the result of a pleasant ignorance of Castrum Kremnos’ reputation or the presence of his universally beloved companion, he wondered), but rather the sounds that gently floated through the village, as tranquil at the birds that constantly flitted across the sky. Where in Castrum Kremnos there had been the constant cacophony of soldiers struggling through their training regimens, metal clashing against metal, here there was only the constant rustling of wind through wheat fields and the gentle lapping of the sea against the rocky shoreline. Where in Castrum Kremnos there had been the relentless beat of war drums, here there was only the light, irregular ringing of the wind chimes that hung from tree branches and outside every house, a sound so fragile and ethereal it would never have been allowed to echo through the corridors of the moveable fortress. 

Nearly a week had passed in quiet comfort since their arrival. The Month of Reaping had recently given way to the Month of Weaving; this year’s harvest would soon be over, Phainon had told him during a recent midday break from work, and with it would come the grandest of Aedes Elysiae’s festivals, though with his well-practiced sheepish grin he admitted that Mydei would still probably find it underwhelming compared to what he was accustomed to. Afterwards, the villagers would work in accordance with their almanacs to prepare for the approaching Calamity Season, though Mydei found it difficult to believe that any sort of calamity could ever befall this place.

The sunlight streaming through the wooden latticework that covered the windows of Phainon’s childhood bedroom cast curious shapes onto the floorboards, hastily swept in preparation of the room at last regaining occupants. Even with the door shut, Mydei could smell the sweet aroma of the honey suncakes that Audata, Phainon’s mother, had prepared for them every morning, and which Phainon would wolf down with an expression of such innocent happiness that it made Mydei’s heart melt to look at it, even though the speed at which he ate seemed to offer no time to truly enjoy the delicate flavor. Mydei had offered for several days now to prepare for everyone the golden honeycakes he had learned to make in Okhema, or at the very least to help Audata around the kitchen, but she was adamant that as long as he was a guest under their roof, he would do no more work than was absolutely necessary.

I see his persistence is an inherited trait, he thought to himself, a quiet smile playing on his lips.

He sat up groggily, the quilt falling from around his shoulders. Crafted by Phainon’s grandmother, it was of a dense dark blue fabric, with a pattern of constellations embroidered on it in copper-colored thread. He searched for Nikador’s, which he spotted half-concealed beneath Phainon’s still-slumbering frame, then began idly tracing the one which had fallen into his lap. It was Mnestia’s, he believed, though he had never been very good at remembering which was which. Phainon, slowly stirring beside him, wrapped an arm around his waist, an entreaty from within his barely-conscious state for him to not go anywhere, to not leave him to bear the tragedy of waking up alone.

Mydei rested a hand on Phainon’s arm, feeling with a lazy sense of enjoyment the solid muscle that had developed slowly, steadily, at first from farmwork and only later from long days spent repeating sword drills in Kephale’s shadow. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled both wantonly and tenderly the many nights spent wrapped in those strong arms, and he felt a faint stirring between his legs; he decided to climb back under the quilt, to allow himself a few more minutes of bathing blissfully in the presence of his sleeping beloved.

He looks so untroubled when he sleeps, he found himself thinking, reaching to brush a stray lock of snow-colored hair away from Phainon’s face, a gentle gesture that nonetheless caused his lover’s eyes to flutter open, and if Mydei had before been contentedly bathing now he was happily drowning in the gaze of those two bottomless oceans flecked with gold.

“Good morning, my love,” Phainon mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss to the bridge of Mydei’s nose, followed by one to his cheek.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s alright. We should be getting up and out to the fields, anyway.” 

He sat up slowly, then looked down at Mydei with a soft half-smile.

“Didn’t want my hair to block your view?”

A faint blush sprang to Mydei’s face.

“Shut up and get dressed if you’re in such a hurry.”

“You’re so easy to tease, love,” Phainon chuckled, rolling out of bed. “Don’t forget, you have those new clothes that Pythias’ sister, the seamstress, made for you. You don’t have to squeeze that huge frame of yours into my old shirts anymore.”

“You say that, even though you like it when I come out to the fields in your clothes. I see the look on your face. You can barely control yourself.”

Throwing the quilt off him, he allowed a stray sunbeam to caress the side of his bare torso, the portions of his tattoos warmed by the light appearing to glow faintly, as a gemstone will glitter when worn outside on a clear day. 

“Maybe so, but I’m more concerned that you’re going to split another shirt open while swinging a scythe around.”

“I would mend it if your mother didn’t insist on doing everything herself,” Mydei grumbled.

“She just wants to take care of you, of us,” he replied, pulling a grey tunic over his head and tightening the belt around it, a practiced motion that Mydei’s fingers were still embarrassingly clumsy at. 

“Speaking of which, I'm starving. Let’s go eat.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Phainon turned to look at him quizzically. Standing up from the bed, Mydei crossed the small distance between them in a few paces and, gently cupping the side of Phainon’s face with his hand, pressed a warm, deep kiss to his lips. Phainon exhaled through his nose and hummed softly, melting into his lover’s embrace. How long they stayed like that neither of them could quite tell—when the two of them were together Oronyx’s grasp on them seemed to lose all of its power, and the passage of time seemed to move at once very slowly and very quickly, as fruit on a tree will spend months maturing, only to become ready to eat overnight.

“You look even more beautiful in the morning light, if that were possible,” Mydei murmured, finally breaking their kiss when he heard the house’s front door open and shut.

“I love you, Mydei.”

The day’s work progressed smoothly; by the time Parting Hour rolled around and the sun began its descent towards the awaiting horizon, the only expanse of field left to be reaped was a small patch out to the northeast of the village.

“A half-day’s work, or less,” was the assessment of one of the village men, spoken offhandedly as he passed them on his way back into Aedes Elysiae.

“Things go much faster with someone of your strength around,” Phainon said, coming up from behind Mydei to wrap his arms around his waist. Pressing kisses to the side of his neck, he breathed deeply, taking in the heady mixture of the Kremnoan’s natural scent mixed with the familiar smells of earth and freshly cut wheat. “If you’re not careful, the villagers may never let you leave.”

Would that really be such a bad thing, he thought. He knew the time was still not right to ask the question that had been playing on his mind since even before their arrival to the village, there were still things that needed to be done first, and yet he almost found it spilling from his lips unconsciously. He silenced his mind and potentially traitorous tongue by pulling Phainon around to face him and kissing his forehead, tasting on his lips the faint saltiness of the sweat that had dried on his brow as they worked under the sun.

“I can feel your arousal, love,” Phainon murmured, laughing softly to no one in particular. “I’m sorry there hasn’t been much privacy or free time since we arrived.”

“I can wait,” was Mydei’s reply, spoken even as he took a small step back to stop his clothed bulge from pressing directly against Phainon’s.

“Oh? How unlike you to be so patient.”

“People will come looking if we’re gone too long.” 

Taking Phainon’s hand in his own, he started walking back towards the village, all the while thinking of how his lover’s fingertips were so much more callused than his own, sheathed as his hands usually were in golden gauntlets.

“I heard one of the men say there was a good haul of snapper caught this morning. If I had to guess, that’s what we’ll be having for dinner.”

Mydei said nothing, merely humming his assent in response. As they walked, the sound of crickets taking up their nightly serenade slowly emerged around them, and fireflies began to flit around in their imitation of the uncountable stars that would soon populate the night sky. They saw, as Aedes Elysiae came more distinctly into view, thin columns of smoke rising from the chimneys of each simple brick and wood house, dissipating gently into the lightly clouded heavens as a handful of sand dissipates when held in the current of a stream.

Greeting them as they reentered the village were increasingly numerous piles of straw—some already baled, many still shapeless and loose—remnants of the portions of the harvest that had already been threshed and taken to the mills that dotted the otherwise unbroken landscape.

“That reminds me,” Phainon said, slowing as he reached the doorstep of his parents’ house. “I promised Piso and Livia that I would play hide-and-seek with them tonight. When the harvest season comes around and there’s sacks of grain and piles of straw everywhere, it’s a lot harder to find people who are hiding.”

“I take it you used to do that when you were a child?”

“I sure did! I used to always win by hiding in the middle of a pile of straw,” Phainon beamed proudly, then looked slightly crestfallen. “But one time some dust went up my nose and made me sneeze, which gave me away…”

Mydei couldn’t help but laugh as he envisioned such a ridiculous scene: the pout on Phainon’s boyhood face followed by a furious, cherry-red flush as his ingenious hiding place was discovered, golden straw threaded haphazardly through his messy snow-white locks. When he looked back up at his lover, a dopey half-smile had crossed his face.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just like hearing you laugh so innocently. Even if it’s at my expense.”

A sudden breeze gusted through the village, causing the nearby wind chime to sound as Mydei pulled Phainon in for a brief kiss by way of response.

“I’ll have to eat quickly, so we have enough time for the game before it gets dark,” Phainon said as they sat down at the table laden with grilled fish, fresh bread, and olive juice. “You want to join us?”

“I don’t think two Chrysos Heirs against a handful of children is a fair fight. Plus, Galba mentioned wanting some help preparing his equipment for tomorrow’s hunt.”

He felt the telltale sting of guilt even at telling this very small lie—while he was sure the hunter would appreciate having another set of hands, no such conversation had ever taken place. Instead, he had another task in mind for the evening, something that would be simpler if Phainon knew nothing about.

After eating his fill, Phainon bounded out of the house, energy restored. Mydei could hear him calling out to the village children, his voice growing fainter as he jogged up the small slope past the schoolhouse. He briefly returned to their shared bedroom, where he changed out of his soil-stained tunic and into a fresh garment, briefly splashing his face with water from the small basin that sat atop the wooden dresser, beside the mirror.

Returning downstairs, he found Hieronymus, Phainon’s father, sitting at the table with a glass of wine, and Audata working on mending a garment in a nearby chair. It was the shirt of Phainon’s, he noticed with a twinge of embarrassment, that he had torn a few days earlier while helping with the harvest.

“May I speak with you both?” 

He was utterly dismayed at the way in which his voice almost shook as he addressed them, his cadence so unlike that befitting of Kremnoan royalty.

“Of course, Mydei,” said Audata, setting down her work with a brief glance over at her husband. “What can we do for you?”

“First, I want to thank you for welcoming me into your home, and for your hospitality over the last week.”

Laughing heartily, Hieronymus set his glass down on the table with a dull clink.

“Like I told you when you got here, you’re one of us now, no need to thank us,” he said. “We see how much you mean to Phainon.”

“To that point…” Mydei swallowed thickly, heart thrumming in a way so different than it did in the heat of battle. 

“I wish to marry Phainon, if you would have me as your son-in-law.”

A few agonizing seconds passed. From outside the house the scamper of a child could be heard before fading away; Audata and Hieronymus looked at each other, an expression perhaps comprehensible only to themselves shared between their faces.

“Through our many travels together, he has grown to mean the world to me. I swear that for as long as I draw breath I will do everything I can to make him happy—”

“You already make him happy, Mydei,” said Audata, interrupting him with a smile. “Surely you know him well enough to realize that?”

“You are strong, reliable, and kind, “ Hieronymus added. “What more could we ask for in a partner for our son?”

Even though he was barely more than a stranger to them, these two people treated him with a kindness more sincere than nearly any other he had known. He looked at them, Hieronymus with Phainon’s ocean-blue eyes and Audata with his silvery hair and felt a knot of indescribable emotion weave itself in his throat.

“Have you proposed to Phainon directly?” Hieronymus asked, taking a sip from his glass.

“We have… discussed it, but I haven’t asked him formally yet. I want to do so while we’re still in Aedes Elysiae.”

“Then,” Audata said with a glint in her eye, crossing to the cupboard to fetch additional glasses. “Why don’t you take tomorrow to do so? I’ve felt terrible that you two haven’t had a moment’s rest since you arrived here, helping out with the harvest and all.”

“We can’t abandon the rest of the people working, though.”

“Nonsense,” Hieronymus said, laughing heartily. “You were out there today, you saw how little land is left to cover. We’ll take care of it.”

“Even so, I find it difficult to believe that Phainon would agree to that,” Mydei said with a small smile, thinking of the way Phainon would inevitably pout and protest when told that he should rest, even with the tantalizing promise of his lover by his side.

“He’ll listen to his mother,” Audata said firmly but not unkindly, returning to the table. “Does this mean the two of us will get to leave Aedes Elysiae at some point to meet your parents, Mydei?”

Mydei had been dreading the point when this topic would be raised, coming as he did from such sordid circumstances. He felt a small pinprick sensation travel up the length of his spine.

“My parents… are no longer with us in the land of the living. I do not know how kindly they would take to my marrying an outsider, let alone another man, nor to… the decisions I made for the good of my people.”

For a brief moment, there was silence again, and he worried that by dragging up details of a past best left forgotten, he had put a damper on what was meant to be an auspicious occasion.

“Well then,” said Audata, with nothing but warmth glittering in her golden eyes (a shade so similar to his own, he thought to himself), “I suppose we’ll have to set up a few new effigies during the Month of Mourning for those you’ve lost, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yes… of course. Thank you.”

How would his parents have felt about being remembered through such a singular Aedes Elysian tradition, so far from their glorious homeland, he wondered.

“But for now, Mydei,” Hieronymus exclaimed gleefully and with no regard for the atmosphere, reaching around the table to clap a hand on Mydei’s shoulder, “have a drink with me, to celebrate your becoming a new member of our little family!”

That Phainon had yet to agree to actually marry him was a thought in no one’s mind—it was simply a foregone conclusion. He knew precious little about what special marital customs, if any, there were in Aedes Elysiae, yet nevertheless he found himself imagining a procession from the inner sanctum of the Sacrament Courtyard, where they would exchange their vows—his simple and direct, Phainon’s wrapped in the ornate language he picked up during those years spent at the Grove—to the statue of Oronyx at the village’s center, where they would pray together that their union might strengthen in spite of the cruel passing of the years.

Though he had no doubt that Phainon would marry him, how to actually pose the question was a lingering problem that persisted at the back of his mind even after Phainon burst back into the house once night had finally come, full of smiles and overflowing energy as he always was after being around children. Here was the man who had given so much to him—the least he could do was ensure that his proposal conveyed just how deeply he felt for him, how perfect and radiant he appeared to Mydei’s eyes. A warm bath was not enough to completely ease the anxiety that pooled in his stomach, and he found that sleep was not a readily forthcoming visitor, despite the calming presence of Phainon breathing deeply beside him.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Mydei must have eventually nodded off to sleep, though the first thing he noticed was the absence of a familiar weight by his side—Phainon wasn’t in bed with him.

Haikas, he thought in drowsy annoyance, how could you leave me alone on today, of all days.

He had just resolved to climb out of bed and go in search of the scoundrel who dared abandon him when the bedroom door opened and Phainon reappeared, still in his nightclothes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. It’s going to be a scorcher out today.”

“...What time is it?”

“Not much later than we usually wake up. But you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you, even though your hair was falling all around your face.”

He crossed to sit on the edge of the bed, Mydei silently curling his recumbent frame around that of his lover, slenderer than his own but still heavy enough to create an indentation in the mattress.

“Very funny.” 

It was only then that Mydei noticed the wooden tray that Phainon was holding out to him.

“What’s all this?”

“When I got up and went downstairs, Mom told me to ‘take the day off and go do something fun’ with you. I started to say we would help out with the harvest again, but she shot me one of those looks, and I knew it was no use arguing.”

Mydei smirked to himself. As Audata had said, she could get Phainon to listen to her.

“So I thought I could start by bringing you breakfast in bed.”

Propping himself up against a pillow, he accepted the tray, on which were piled the omnipresent honey suncakes, berries, and a glass of juice. On the topmost suncake, a heart had clumsily been outlined in extra honey, inside of which a small pat of butter was slowly melting.

“Honey is a… trickier medium to draw with than I thought it would be. Sorry it doesn’t look very good.”

Mydei silenced him by leaning forward to kiss his cheek, almost upsetting the entire tray in the process.

“You know I’ll love whatever you do for me.”

After finishing their morning meal, Phainon led the two of them down to the slightly ramshackle docks, carrying a small basket into which he had thrown a few things before they left. In the distance a ship sailed away from Aedes Elysiae, sails billowing in an ocean wind that had yet to sweep across the land.

“Probably taking wheat back to Okhema,” Phainon observed.

In the noon light the sea appeared made of glass, so intensely did it reflect the glare of the sun. The day was cloudless and, as Phainon had said, unseasonably hot; Mydei felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

“I thought we could go to one of my favorite spots outside the village, somewhere no one else knows about,” Phainon said, turning to look back at him. “Are you up for a short swim?”

“With the basket?” Mydei asked in response. Phainon turned to look at where he had set it down, a small frown creasing his lips.

“Everything’s wrapped up pretty tight, and hopefully the whole thing should float. If it doesn’t, I’ll just hold it above my head, the water doesn’t get more than chest-deep until a ways out.”

“Well, let’s go, then.”

He gazed appreciatively as Phainon, in one smooth motion, unfastened the belt around his tunic and stripped it off, his well-developed back muscles glistening slightly with sweat as he folded it and placed it down on the dock, only raising an eyebrow when he then began to fiddle with the drawstring of his pants.

“Naked?”

“This isn’t the Marmoreal Palace,” Phainon laughed. “What, are you suddenly shy?”

“What do I have to be shy about, exactly?”

“That’s the question I should be asking, you half-naked showoff,” he said with a sly smile on his face. “Now, do I have to strip you?”

“And if I say yes?”

This was a familiar game for them: a constant back-and-forth of questions, of one-upmanship that would inevitably lead to something that both of them desired, but neither felt bold enough to ask for outright. A light blush spread across Phainon’s face (though whether born of libido or the heat he couldn’t be sure) as he approached Mydei, kissing him messily as he removed the Kremnoan’s tunic and let his pants fall down around his ankles, leaving them both in their undergarments, which now barely concealed rapidly stiffening erections. A hand reached down to grope at the flesh of Mydei’s ass, so heavy and ripe in the hand.

“We should start swimming before anyone shows up to see us like this,” Phainon said, stripping off the last of his clothes and jumping into the water.

“Lead the way,” Mydei responded, carefully slipping a small parcel he had had tucked away in his pants into the basket while Phainon’s back was turned.

The relative chilliness of the sea was pleasant on their bare flesh, though that sensation combined with the physical exertion of swimming against the waves led both of their arousals to gradually subside. The basket did wind up floating, as Phainon pointed out with a note of pride in his voice, and the two of them took turns pushing it along with them as they followed the rocky coastline.

“Where exactly are we going?” asked Mydei, after they had been swimming for so long the houses of Aedes Elysiae appeared very small in the distance.

“We’re almost there. There’s a narrow inlet coming up that leads to a small beach, and then further back a secluded little grove.”

As Phainon said, soon enough they spotted the inlet on their left side. As they stood up out of the water and walked onto the crescent-shaped beach, they gazed not at each other’s faces but at the way droplets of water rolled down their bodies, over curves and ridges that they knew better than their own, having spent night after night learning, memorizing their topographies with a fingertip or a tongue, sometimes silencing the small cries and pants that escaped the gasping mouth, sometimes allowing them to punctuate the otherwise still night air…

“How did you find this place?” Mydei asked as they walked across the beach towards the grove, forcing thoughts of pushing Phainon down to the ground and taking him right then and there from his mind.

“I used to swim out in the ocean during the Pillar Season, when school didn’t meet and there wasn’t anything else to do. I stumbled upon this place by accident after following the shoreline one day.”

“And no one else knows about it?”

“I don’t think so,” said Phainon, idly scratching his shoulder and indicating they should bear right over some rocks. “I used to skip class and come here a lot, to stare up at the clouds and listen to the waves. No one ever found me here.”

“You were a naughty kid,” Mydei chuckled, causing Phainon to smile.

“Yeah, but I always got punished for it once I came back. That’s why I try to get Piso never to cut class. Galba’s also a way stricter father than mine ever was.”

They had reached the grove, a collection of trees arranged in a rough circle around a central, shaded meadow, where delicate purple wildflowers were blooming. Some of the trees bore fruit, and their boughs sagged towards the ground, overladen with figs. Phainon picked a few of the nicest-looking ones as Mydei took out a blanket from the basket, briefly perusing the other contents: loaves of bread, some smoked meat, a bottle of olive juice, and a handful of other small things wrapped too tightly or indistinctly for him to tell what they were. He noted with a private sigh of relief that the parcel he had snuck in had made it safely across the water, nestled between two loaves of bread.

“One time,” Phainon continued with his story, almost absentmindedly, “when I was swimming out here to skip class, the waves suddenly got super choppy, and I almost drowned… I thought it was Cerces’ wrath delivered via Phagousa. That was the last time I ever skipped class, haha.”

This casualness of this admission stopped Mydei in his tracks. Though death had no grip over him, he was acutely aware of its power over others, over those he loved. He reached out, perhaps too forcefully, to grab one of Phainon’s forearms, wrenching him around so that their eyes met. A fig tumbled out of his grasp, bouncing and rolling along the grass before coming to rest against the nearest tree. He could sense the barely constrained terror that his gaze held, though his voice was level.

“Please, don’t risk your life like that, Phainon. If something were to happen to you, I—”

Phainon silenced his rush of thoughts by kissing him deeply, carding the fingers of his free hand through Mydei’s ochre hair and holding him in place.

“Do you think so little of me, Mydei? I’m now just as strong as you are, as you know.”

“You’re right,” he said, letting go—with some hesitation—of Phainon’s arm. “Forgive me.”

Phainon sat down on the neatly spread blanket, biting into a fig and offering the remainder to Mydei, juice running down his chin. It was sweet and perfectly ripe, the kind of fruit difficult to come by in as bustling a city as Okhema.

For some time the two sat in loving silence, listening to the rustle of the leaves and distant call of the waves. Phainon had rested his head in Mydei’s lap, and the Kremnoan was idly playing with his snow-white hair, gently rubbing circles into his scalp. 

“It’s beautiful here,” Mydei remarked softly, looking at nothing in particular. “Thank you for trusting me with this place.”

“Of course, Mydei,” Phainon murmured, eyes closed softly. “What’s mine is yours.”

He took a deep breath; the time had finally come. He patted Phainon’s shoulder gently, wordlessly entreating him to sit up and face him.

“Can I ask you something, Phainon?” 

“Of course you can, my love. You can ask me anything.”

“You know how much you mean to me, how deeply I care for you. And I…” he trailed off, struggling to form a coherent thought.

Haikas, he thought to himself. How is it that you don’t have the words to ask your lover of so long to become your betrothed?

“Why are you hesitating, love?” Phainon’s face, a moment ago so resplendent with guileless joy, now clouded over with concern. “Is it… that you’re not happy here?” 

He tried to conceal it, but Mydei knew him well enough to see the way sadness threatened to consume him as he contemplated that scenario, even as he would readily give up anything, including his home, to ensure that Mydei was happy.

“Not at all. It’s because I want to stay here… forever.”

Giving up on any ambition of elegance or formality, he plunged his hand into the basket, drawing out the parcel he had kept stashed away since they departed from Okhema. Unwrapping it revealed a narrow gold band with two rubies inlaid at the top, like drops of pomegranate juice splashed onto newly harvested wheat. He held it out to Phainon with slightly trembling hands.

“I love you, Phainon. Marry me. Let’s make our life here.”

He was surprised at the way tears sprang to his eyes as he said this—was it not supposed to be the other way around? Was the fabled son of Strife truly so vulnerable that a moment like this could overwhelm him so?

Saying nothing, Phainon reached out a hand to let Mydei slip the band onto his finger. The ring glittered in the early afternoon light, but neither of them stopped to appreciate it. At once Phainon was on top of Mydei, their tongues interlocked in a breathless exchange. After so long together, when making love they moved as one being, each knowing where the other’s hands should go, albeit now with a newfound hunger verging on desperation that could have stemmed from either their recent lack of intimacy or the promise of an even greater commitment to one another.

“Phainon…” Mydei begged breathily when they finally broke their kiss.

“No one will hear us here,” was his lover’s reply, voice honeyed with desire and tinged with dominance. “That’s why I brought us all the way out here.”

Wrapping an arm around Mydei’s back—so strong, but as it held the key to his life, also so profoundly fragile, or so he often found himself thinking—Phainon reached down to roughly grasp their erections with his other hand, both tips already glistening with iridescent fluid. Slowly stroking them together, their combined girths barely too big for him to completely wrap his hand around, he heard Mydei’s breath hitch, a faint whine threatening to pass his lips that became a full-throated yelp as Phainon sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of his partner’s neck, tasting salt from seawater, salt from sweat, cut by a lingering sweetness from where fig juice had earlier run down over naked skin. 

“You taste so delicious, love,” Phainon murmured. “Even here,” bringing a hand dripping with precum to his mouth and licking it clean, while Mydei watched him through heavily lidded eyes.

“Even sweeter than honey,” he whispered into Mydei’s ear before lightly grazing the organ with his teeth, causing the Kremnoan to involuntarily buck his hips up into Phainon’s hand, another whine torn from the back of his throat.

“H-Haikas!” was all that he could spit out before Phainon, so intoxicatingly in control, licked up the side of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Hungry to hear more of Mydei’s desperate cries, a sweeter music than any bard could conjure up, Phainon busied himself pampering his mewling lover—biting gently into his shoulder, sucking at his collarbone, licking up his neck to whisper sweet words of praise into Mydei’s ear, pressing kisses short and long to the plush lips that constantly whispered his name—all the while grinding their throbbing cocks together, drawing forth a steady flow of precum and dirtying Mydei’s abdomen with tangible evidence of their love.

Occasionally he would pause to greedily survey his handiwork. Mydei was a beautiful wreck beneath him, so unlike his usual stoic self: sweat was plastering his blond bangs to his forehead and lending a sheen to the ampleness of his chest, his golden eyes were tightly shut in deep ecstasy, and his crimson tattoos, so sinfully highlighting the curves of his musculature, seemed to glow, as if accumulating potential energy—a clear sign that Mydei was losing control of himself, nearing his orgasm under Phainon’s well-practised touch. Already the small bruises and bite marks that littered Mydei’s shoulders and neck were beginning to fade, his regenerative abilities clearing away anything that would mar the unblemished perfection of his skin. Phainon had always lamented this inability to mark his lover as his own, to display to other suitors that the man was his—he supposed that their wearing rings forevermore would accomplish this in a less primal way.

“P-Phainon, I—” 

Mydei was achingly close, thrusting his broad hips irregularly up against Phainon’s cock.

“Cum for me, love,” he said, which was all the encouragement the Kremnoan needed, digging his nails into Phainon’s back and cumming with a shout, painting his chest and stomach with ropes of alabaster that were steadily coaxed out of his spasming cock.

He was still breathing heavily when he pulled Phainon down on top of him, his tongue searching tirelessly for Phainon’s inside the snowy-haired swordsman’s mouth, arms wrapped tightly around him as if he were the only thing in the whole of Amphoreus that mattered to Mydei, which was likely the truth.

Phainon returned the kiss deeply, generously, reaching down to resume stroking his own length, so hard it was almost painful. As much as part of him craved Mydei’s thickness inside of him as he rode out his own release, he knew the desperate look on his lover’s face could mean only one thing—that he wanted, needed, to have Phainon buried in him, biting down on his neck as he came, flooding Mydei’s insides.

“I’ve got you, my love,” he whispered, reaching into the nearby basket for the small bottle of lubricant he had surreptitiously stashed among the food. “I know what you want,” he continued, Mydei’s eyes widening and mouth curling into a half-smile as he heard this, realizing that Phainon knew precisely what he was thinking without saying a word.

“If you know, then do it,” he shot back, voice lightly hoarse.

“Oh? Able to speak again?”

Uncorking the bottle, he spread the viscous liquid on two fingers, gently working them inside the awaiting warmth of Mydei’s hole, as the blond spread his legs to give him easier access.

“Not for very long, if you do your job ri—!”

His retort was cut short, morphing into a stuttering gasp as Phainon rubbed both fingers against the sensitive mass of his prostate, and just like that the Kremnoan was once again a panting, shivering mess underneath his touch.

Withdrawing his fingers, the action of which drew a whine from Mydei that was less human than animal, Phainon poured more of the lubricant into his palm and slicked up his length, unable to stifle a shaky exhale at the sensation. He was too desperate for his own climax, he realized, to be as patient as he usually tried to be while first stretching Mydei’s hole around his cock.

“Tell me,” he said breathlessly, pressing the head of his cock against Mydei’s hole, so pink and inviting, his strong legs resting on Phainon’s shoulders, “if I’m being too rough.”

Mydei laughed weakly in response.

“You’re never too rough… for me,” he responded, pushing out his hips such that Phainon’s cock slipped inside him, drawing a cry of pleasure from Phainon and a sharp intake of breath from Mydei, tight as he was from not being penetrated since they had left Okhema.

The warmth enveloping him was so rapturous that all Phainon could do was draw shaky breath after shaky breath as he steadily pressed more of his length into his lover, feeling a flush that must have been almost purple in hue, so hot it was on his face, as he bottomed out.

“Mydei,” he panted, “put your arms up behind your head for me.”

As soon as he had done so Phainon buried his face in the Kremnoan’s armpit, the untamed tufts of hair long since matted with sweat, drawing in deep lungfuls of Mydei’s intoxicating scent as he set a punishing pace, the heavy sound of flesh slapping against flesh reverberating around the grove, drowning out the distant sound of the ocean.

This perfect man is all mine, was the thought that finally coalesced in his pleasure-addled mind as he sucked on one of Mydei’s puffy nipples, his chest still slick with the remnants of his earlier orgasm.

This perfect man is going to be my husband.

Between his legs, Mydei’s cock was again hard and leaking, and he reached down a hand to stroke it roughly in time with Phainon’s thrusts, muttering words that Phainon knew to be Kremnoan curses to himself as he felt every inch of his upper body become the target of Phainon’s wandering mouth.

“Mydei, I love you so much,” he had started to babble nonsensically, feeling the telltale pressure of an oncoming orgasm building in his lower body, “I’m going to cum in you, fill you up.”

“Phai—!”

“You’re mine, Mydei. I’ve got you.”

He looked down at Mydei’s face to find him staring back up at him, golden eyes swimming with unbridled passion and pure carnal desire.

“No,” he growled sharply, that practiced smirk crossing his flushed face, “you’re mine,” and with one last cry reached his second orgasm, further coating himself in his own cum.

It was all Phainon could do to batter a few last thrusts deep inside Mydei, to help him ride out his climax before he himself came, the orgasm ripping through his body so forcefully he felt the edges of the world start to grow hazy, emptying himself and coating his betrothed’s insides with cum, each rope a testament to how much Mydei meant to him. He tasted something new on his palate, and spit out golden blood—when his orgasm hit him he must have bit down hard enough on the tattoo that ran along Mydei’s neck to break through skin, thin rivulets like liquid metal dribbling from the already healing wound.

The last of his strength deserted his exhausted body, and he collapsed down onto Mydei’s chest, at that moment more soft and inviting than any pillow Balance Coins could buy. For some time the two of them did not move, too spent to speak, though through the congress of their bodies they had already expressed all that needed to be said. Phainon lay there, eyes closed, breathing deeply and listening to Mydei’s heartbeat gradually return to a normal speed, while Mydei stared up into the sky, gently massaging Phainon’s back with one hand.

“You never said yes.”

Mydei’s voice was calm. Phainon slowly propped himself up on his elbows next to him.

“Said yes to what?”

“To me asking to marry you, you fool.”

“Oh!”

A light blush sprang to Phainon’s face.

“I guess I didn’t give you an answer, huh? Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

He reached out to caress Mydei’s face, before pressing a kiss sweetly to his slightly swollen lips.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Mydeimos. It would be my honor.”

Sitting up, Phainon stretched out his arm, for the first time admiring the way the ring shone brightly against his pale skin.

“Where did you find this ring?”

“While I was on my own in Castrum Kremnos. It was buried beneath some rubble. I had a hunch, so I brought it to Krateros, and he confirmed that it was the ring my mother wore.”

Phainon felt his eyes widen in shock, looking down at Mydei’s face.

“Now, I’m entrusting it to you, Phainon,” he continued, gingerly sitting upright. “I may no longer be a king, but I will do everything to make you the happiest ma—”

WIthout giving him a chance to finish, Phainon crashed his lips against Mydei’s, wrapping his arms around the Kremnoan and pulling him in close.

“You already make me the happiest man alive, my love,” he said softly. “But what you said about making our life here, did you really mean that?”

Mydei tilted his head.

“Of course I meant it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t want to return to your own home, to Castrum Kremnos?”

“Was Aedes Elysiae not always going to become my home from the moment I agreed to be your lover?” Seeing that Phainon didn’t follow, he continued. “As much as I long for Castrum Kremnos, what it is now is not what I yearn for, and what I yearn for only exists now in memory.”

Phainon’s eyes were shimmering, both from admiration and tears that threatened to spill over—he felt as though he truly were in the presence of a king, even though Mydei had long since renounced his regality.

“The traditions I choose to carry on, those can be done anywhere. And I would rather do them here, in this peaceful little village, the home that my betrothed loves so much.”

“Mydei…”

He sniffled, then chuckled, feeling that it was silly to cry when Mydei was back to his usual stoic self before him.

“It’s funny that you chose to propose today though, because…” 

Phainon went searching through the basket, pulling out one of the bundles that Mydei hadn’t recognized. He held it out to him, and Mydei accepted it, finding inside of it… a ring.

“I was planning on asking you today as well.”

Phainon’s ring was of a pale gold, with a single sapphire nestled between two leaf-shaped carvings.

“I hope you like it,” Phainon said, sheepish grin returned to his face. “I… asked Aglaea for help picking it out. I thought it would match the rest of the jewelry you usually wear.”

Now, it was Mydei’s turn to silently offer a hand for Phainon to slip the ring onto.

“I love it. Thank you.”

He smirked.

“Is there something you want to ask me, Phainon?”

A bird passed overhead, its chirping floating down to them distantly.

“Will you marry me, Mydeimos?”

“Of course I will.”

The kiss between them then was perhaps tenderer than any that had come before it. Once again, they felt the blissful sensation of being lost to time, their worlds shrinking around them until they merely encompassed the other person. No one was looking for them here, no one needed anything—no one would care if they lingered, wrapped around one another, until the sun began to sink towards the horizon, dyeing the sky above them in pinks and pale oranges.

Phainon pulled back first.

“Can we eat something?” he asked, laughing. “I’m starving, and we have all this food that hasn’t been touched.”

“Pour me some of that olive juice,” Mydei requested. “I’m parched.”

Even having eaten their fill, they loitered for a while longer in the shade of the grove, in no hurry to rush back to tell everyone the good news; they felt certain that it would be met with joy and absolutely no surprise.

“I love you, Phainon.”

“I love you too, Mydei.”

He brought another fig to his mouth. For a moment his mind drifted to Castrum Kremnos, so beautiful and stark in its desolation, and so unlike the natural simplicity of Aedes Elysiae. He saw a vision of himself and Phainon building a house together, tending the fields year after year, remaining endlessly devoted to one another…

If the climate was right here, he thought, perhaps he could try growing a pomegranate tree.