Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mydei was, in his honest opinion, a saint. He even let Aglaea explain the situation to him before he turned around and tried to walk out the door.

“Lord Mydei, please,” Castorice said from her stance in front of the exit, blocking his way out. “Just hear us out.”

He turned back around, looking at Aglaea with disgruntlement. “You can’t keep stationing Miss Castorice in front of doors to stop people from leaving. That won’t work on me. I’ll take the death touch.”

“Please don’t make me do that,” Castorice said.

“Mydeimos,” Aglaea seemed tired, which was fair, because Mydei felt tired. “You know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if there was any other choice.”

“Do you hate me?” Mydei asked quietly, his voice long suffering. “Is that it? Have I not been doing enough since the Era Nova in your eyes?”

“Mydeimos.”

“Don’t make me go in there.” Mydei wasn’t above begging. “Don’t. Please. I’ll get eaten alive.”

“He’s not going to do anything,” Aglaea sighed. “He specifically requested you, after all, and no one else has even been allowed inside anyways. For all I know, they could’ve killed each other by now.”

She gestured vaguely to the door, which seemed to be held closed with some sort of glitchy mass, reds and blacks combining together and sealing it shut.

“Of course he did, that fiend,” Mydei groaned, dragging a hand over his face. ”You can’t make me do this. You’ll never take me alive.”

Then he tried to walk into Castorice’s hands again.

“Lord Mydei, please,” Castorice said, brandishing her scythe to keep him away. She poked at him when he refused to back up. “Surely spending time with Lord Phainon doesn’t warrant a reaction like this?”

“Did you not hear her, Castorice?” Mydei said roughly. “There’s four Phainon’s inside that room. Four. Four. I’ll lose my mind.”

“It’s only for a little while,” Aglaea assured, walking toward the door housing all of Mydei’s worst nightmares, ”until the Grove’s disciples can come up with a cure for his … ailment.”

“I’ll be nothing but skin and bone by then,” Mydei said, genuinely distraught. “They’re going to suck me dry.”

“I certainly hope not,” Aglaea said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Mydei barely even noticed.

A hand flew to his lips. “Oh Nikador. they’re going to take me to the baths 8 times a day. I’m never going to know peace.”

“Please, Mydeimos,” Aglaea sighed again. “I understand if you truly do not wish to do this, and I won’t ask you again if you don’t, but I do believe Phainon is suffering right now, and he finds a great deal of comfort in your presence.”

Silence. Mydei felt his defences weakening.

“I’m sure that in times where he finds himself, ahem, pulled thin, he would appreciate a friend at his side. To allow him to suffer alone would be-“

A deep sigh, pulled through his nose, cut her off. “Fine.”

Behind him, he heard Castorice giggle. He pointedly did not turn around.

Aglaea smiled, the one she always did when she knew she had won. “Thank you, Mydeimos. Your efforts for the sake of Amphoreus will never go unnoticed or unrewarded.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Mydei managed to nod respectfully even through the deep headache that had already wormed its way into his mind. Something told him that this was going to be a very long day. Or week. Or year. Just a very long life in general.

He gave one last glance to Castorice and Aglaea before stepping through the door, the off-putting material fading at his touch. It made something buzz underneath his skin, as if his bones had started tingling.

The hallway was dark when he entered. A long, spiral staircase sat in the middle, and he descended towards the light as if he’d already sealed his sentence. Another door sat at the end of the staircase, one he pushed open after reciting a prayer to any titan that would listen. He wasn’t picky.

“Mydei!” Phainon glanced up, light sparking in his azure eyes upon seeing him. He leapt to his feet the moment Mydei stepped on solid ground, leaning into his touch almost instantly. “Ah, it’s been too long!”

“It’s been 16 hours,” Mydei said, deeply unimpressed.

“16 hours too long,” Phainon sighed, shaking his head mournfully, before a cheeky grin stretched across his face. “I’m so glad you’re here, I was going mad with only myself to talk to.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Mydei shook his head, then looked around. Nothing. “Where are they, anyways? Aglaea wasn’t very clear. She said ‘four Phainon’s are currently in my cellar’ and I stopped listening. What am I working with? Duplicates?”

“Uhm,” Phainon said smartly. He looked over Mydei’s shoulder, made an odd motion with his hand, and vigorously shook his head at something behind him. “…Not quite.”

“What.” Mydei said. He moved to turn around, only for a ragged, raspy breath resonating through the crummy air to freeze him in place. He turned back, wide eyed, to look at Phainon.

“Don’t tell me,” he said, agonized.

“I’m so sorry,” Phainon said back, almost pitifully.

“My…deimos,” a voice echoed behind him, familiar and yet haunting, and he almost fell backwards from the shock of it, myriads of red crystals summoned in his grasp almost instantly as he blocked Phainon from view. He hadn’t expected to hear that voice ever again, after all.

The Flame Reaver hovered ominously behind the very door Mydei had just walked out from, his head tilting ever so slightly. Mydei grit his teeth together, holding his hand out ominously to keep them both in a standstill.

“No, no! It’s okay,” Phainon assured him, patting at the hand that was blocking him. “He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep, Phainon,” Mydei said, eyes narrowed. 

Phainon opened his mouth to say more, but another voice, one from deeper into the halls, rang out instead.

“He’s telling the truth, Mydeimos,” it said, and Mydei swivelled viciously towards where it had come from, desperately switching between the two potential threats. “The Flame Reaver, as you say, no longer holds any desire to reap what has been sown. Era Nova has already fallen over Amphoreus, and welcomed the new dawn.“

“Khaslana,” Phainon said from behind Mydei, worry bleeding into his tone. “Don’t overwhelm him.”

“He’s not overwhelmed,” Khaslana said sharply. He turned to Mydei and cocked his head. “You’re not overwhelmed, right Mydei?”

“Oh, you’re kidding me,” Mydei said, very much overwhelmed, watching as Khaslana stepped forward. His golden hair, glowing eyes, that halo that spun around the top of his head, those metallic looking wings that brushed against the walls. Was nothing sacred anymore? Had no Titans heard his cries?

“I’m in hell,” Mydei said mournfully. He kept his back firmly pressed against Phainon’s chest, both for his protection and his own, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. He should’ve let Thanatos take him while he was still upstairs.

“Mydei, really,” Phainon pushed at his hand again, and faintly, he let his bloody crystals dissipate into nothing but glowing sparks. “There’s nothing to worry about, nobody here is going to hurt you.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” Mydei muttered under his breath, trying to get his heart rate under control. His fight or flight instincts had hit him fast and hard. “It’s not as if I’ve been killed, maimed, and stabbed 33 million times or anything,”

Phainon cursed under his breath, flinching away slightly. He tried to bounce back. “Low blow, Mydei.”

The way the Flame Reaver’s head hung low made him feel a little bad. A little. Maybe a lot. That was Phainon under there, after all.

“No, no, he makes a fair point,” Khaslana said, making a so-so motion with his hands. His eyes were distant, however, as if he were not truly seeing him. “I don’t blame you for feeling worried. I hope we may be given the chance to prove our worthiness to you.”

“Watch,” Phainon said when he saw Mydei’s mouth open. “He’s going to say ‘‘worry’ doesn't exist in the Kremnoan language.’”

“HKS. I’m leaving,” Mydei said loudly instead. He turned towards the door to pull it open, ignoring Phainon’s pitiful cry, only to find it sealed shut. Again.

“Okay, which one of you keeps doing that?” Mydei grumbled, gesturing towards the sealed and glitchy edges. He pointed an accusing finger at each and every one of them.

“I’m sorry, Mydei. I’m afraid you can’t leave,” Khaslana said, which made him sound remarkably guilty.

“You seem to have everything handled down here, what do you even need me for?” Mydei asked with a scoff.

Khaslana couldn’t seem to find a good answer for that. He stuttered, his cold mask cracking for a mere moment.

At his side, the Flame Reaver continued to heave out heavy and deafening gasps, one specifically  that seemed to tear its way out his chest violently. Mydei almost felt his soul leave his body with how quickly Khaslana swiveled around to face the Reaver, his wings flapping haphazardly behind him.

“You take that back!” He shouted, pointing a clawed finger.

At those words, the Flame Reaver’s breathing only seemed to increase in volume and speed. After one particularly raspy one, Khaslana gasped himself, a hand against his chest like he was clutching a bag of pearls. He recovered quickly enough, his face morphing into an expression of pure rage.

“Oh I see, you want to die,” he said darkly. “You actually want to die. You could’ve just told me, I’d have been happy to oblige.”

“What’s happening?” Mydei asked in bafflement, stepping back as he watched Khaslana lunge at the Flame Reaver with a battle cry, sending them both careening into the floor. “What are they saying?”

Phainon blinked a couple times, distraught, turning away from the scene in front of them and scratching his neck. “I uh, I don’t feel comfortable repeating it. You don’t have to worry, they do love each other, they're just stressed,” Phainon assured him.

“What are they stressed about?” Mydei said, shoulders hunching as he heard a sharp crack, followed by metal clanging into a wall.

“About the reason you have to be here.” Phainon said awkwardly. Mydei felt his eye twitch, just slightly.

“I’m in hell,” Mydei said after a moment. The fighting has seemingly stopped, at least, the room going quiet. “After the Flame Reaver killed me I died and this is my afterlife of torture and misery and three Phainon’s who yell at each other.”

Wait. Right, there were supposed to be four Phainon’s here. 

Suddenly, a feeling Mydei hadn’t felt in years swelled up inside his chest. Hope. Maybe he’d get something cute, like a baby Phainon. Or a ten year old Phainon, all bright and cheery and full of love.

… Or maybe he’d get an eleven year old Phainon who had just experienced the horrors. Slightly less excited about the idea, but at least Mydei would maybe be able to make him feel better about the whole situation. He’d teach him all about fighting and how to study the blade and also about honeycakes and pomegranate milk. He smiled at the precious, absolutely adorable thought. It was almost able to make him forget about the nightmare scenario he was currently in.

The Flame Reaver pulled himself up from where he’d been lying in a tangle of limbs on the floor, his mask slightly askew, and let out a sigh having heard what Phainon was talking about. Mydei turned to look at him, but was unable to resist the small shudder that ran up his spine at the sight of the towering cloaked figure, the phantom pain of Dawnbringer lodged in his back even now. If he noticed his discomfort, he did not draw any attention to it.

Knowing what he did now, who was truly under that mask, the anger (the rage, the hate, the fear-) had not disappeared, but lessened instead, making room for something conflicted to take its place, nothing more than a deep sense of sorrow, and a fleeting feeling he couldn’t quite name anymore.

“… he insisted you come,” the Flame Reaver spat out, with so much vitriol in his tone even Mydei stiffened.

“He?” Mydei asked, raising an eyebrow, then his eyes filtered towards both Phainon and Khaslana. Neither were looking at him anymore. Instead, they stared at a dark almost cocoon-like structure in the corner of the basement. As if it felt those eyes staring, it began to shudder, stretching from the inside. Mydei felt his lips peel back in horror as he watched a hand pierce through the veil, clawing at that strange substance, before tearing its way out as if it were a baby bird hatching out of its egg.

“Okay,” Mydei said shakily, positioning himself into a fighting position, feeling Phainon do the same at his side, naturally. “I don’t think that’s a baby.”

“What?” Phainon asked, baffled. He went ignored.

Mydei exhaled shakily. Then he felt his eyes narrow. He would recite another proper prayer but clearly the titans were not listening.

Please, he thought to himself instead. Please do not be what I think it is.

The strange cocoon of pixels, static and madness cracked open, and Phainon tore himself out wretchedly, leaving the pieces behind, red eyes snapping open and revealing empty eclipses.

“Finally,” he groaned, head rolling back exaggeratedly as he stretched his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for hours. What took you so long, hm?”

“Is that fucking Irontomb?” Mydei said. Then he tried the door again, new desperation fueling his lungs. He yanked at it with a considerable amount of strength, but ultimately, the only thing he managed to do was pry the doorknob off. He clutched it in his hand as if it had wronged him personally.

“Stop that,” Irontomb tutted as he watched him struggle, teeth grinding together in annoyance. “You just got here. Don’t be rude, POLEMOS.”

“He arrived almost 20 minutes ago,” Phainon said unbidden, glaring at him. “You’ve just been sleeping or whatever you were doing in your egg thing.”

Then, “would you stop calling him that already?”

“Why is he even here?” Mydei said accusatoryly, letting the doorknob drop to the ground with a sour taste lingering in his mouth. “You barely even count as Phainon. This can’t be happening.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Khaslana said, crossing his arms over his scarred chest. “It did promise it wouldn’t do anything … drastic as long as you came. The rest of us were content to leave everyone else out of our mess, and we doubt it still possesses the full brunt of powers it had previously, but we felt the risk simply wasn’t worth it. Please forgive us, Mydeimos.”

“You, you shut up,” Mydei said darkly, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re supposed to be a part of Phainon now. Both of you.”

“I deeply apologize for the inconvenience.” Khaslana said, placing a hand on his scarred and bloody chest. The Flame Reaver merely breathed heavily in his general direction, something anguished in its chest.

“And you!” Mydei whirled around. “You’re supposed to be dead! We got rid of you!”

“You cannot kill me in any way that matters.” Irontomb smiled meanly. He took a light step towards Mydei, one, then two, until he was easily within arms reach.

Beside him, Mydei watched Phainon bury his head into his hands.

“Step back, fiend,” the Flame Reaver suddenly snarled somewhere behind him, his voice guttural. He strode forward, drawing the moon shaped ceremonial blade. Mydei tightened his fists, but nothing pierced him through his back. Rather, he watched as the Reaver brandished the blade in front of him protectively instead, stepping forward to block him from view.

A warm (more than warm, really. burning-) hand on his shoulder jolted Mydei into awareness. Looking up, Khaslana wasn’t even looking at him, instead staring coldly at Irontomb, as if he could keep him locked in place with merely a glare.

“Please don’t concern yourself with it, Mydeimos.” This strange version of Phainon said, his clawed hands curling into Mydei’s shoulder tightly. While his words were gentle, his expression betrayed him. He looked two seconds away from tearing Irontombs head off. “I will not allow it to hurt you.”

Irontomb barked out a laugh at that, his eyes swirling in a way that was almost maniacal. “Hurt him? You misunderstand, that’s the last thing I would ever want, cross my heart. I’d rather tear your new sun out of the sky than harm a hair on his head.”

A disbelieving laugh tore its way out Mydei’s throat at that. “There’s no way you out of all people are saying that. What other reason would you have for demanding I come down here aside from skewering me?”

A small chuckle, a slight shrug of his shoulders. “You wound me so, dear POLEMOS. Am I not allowed to simply crave your eyes on me?”

“What.” Mydei said. He felt like he was going through an out of body experience. “What did you say.”

“Mydei,” Khaslana said solemnly, cutting Irontomb off. His hand pressed into his shoulder, a stabilizing weight. “I think we have to kill this guy.”

Irontomb’s voice was mocking, his light hearted demeanour disappearing in almost a moment, something coldly threatening appearing on his face instead as he stared Khaslana down. “You never know when to back off. Surely you don’t really think you could stand in my way?”

Phainon reached over and gripped his hand tightly, and Mydei was fairly certain that Khaslana was drawing golden blood with how tightly he clenched at Mydei’s shoulder. In front of him,  The Flame Reaver practically vibrated in rage. Whatever this was, it brought an oppressive aura that seemed to curl in over them all. Mydei wasn’t entirely sure which Phainon was bringing it.

“Oh, you're all so mad.” Irontomb said. He cocked his head, a twisted smile practically contorting Phainon’s face as he revealed sharp teeth. “No need to worry. I said I wouldn’t do a thing if you brought POLEMOS to me, and I always keep my word.”

”That’s a lie,” Phainon instantly said. “I don’t think you’ve kept a promise in your life.”

A thin smile, off putting and unsettling, had Mydei holding Phainon’s hand just a smidge tighter. “I’m starting now. Come on then, let’s go.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The walk back up the stairs was fairly ominous, to say the least. Mydei felt less like a prince and more like a prisoner on death row as he was protected from the horrors of the Okehma streets on all sides by his entourage. With Phainon directly in front of him, The Flame Reaver and Khaslana at his sides, and Irontomb trailing behind him like he belonged there, they must’ve made quite the image trudging through the streets. It was like coming home from the shelter and bringing an antsy pack of puppies home instead of the one he had been expecting. 

Aglaea had taken one look at him, checked to make sure nothing was too amiss considering the situation, and had sent them off as quickly as they’d arrived with a warning not to leave the living quarters unless absolutely necessary until the issue could be resolved, with a lingering promise to have as many people on guard as possible.

They stepped into the house, and immediately, Mydei said, “None of you are allowed on my bed.”

He turned to Irontomb then, felt his face twist at the odd look on his face, then crossed his arms over his chest. “What am I to call you, then? If you have nothing, I’ll simply keep referring to you as ‘Irontomb.’”

”Hehe,” Irontomb smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Oh POLEMOS, you can just call me Phainon !“

Mydei raised an eyebrow, deeply unimpressed. “I think I’ll pass.”

Phainon, at the same time, said, “No. Absolutely not.”

“So cruel, flesh vessel. I was just teasing,” Irontomb pouted. Mydei physically felt Phainon shudder beside him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame him. A pout on Irontomb’s face simply felt wrong, even if it was technically Phainon’s. Like an AI image trying desperately to not appear uncanny.

“Don’t-“ Phainon shook his head, looking vaguely sick. “Don’t call me that, don’t call Mydei that, and don't you dare try to take my name.”

“Hahhh, you’re so dramatic Phainon, you’re treating me like a bad puppy.” he sighed, waving a hand. “Just call me Irontomb then, beloved. I don’t care.”

Irontomb practically pranced up the stairs, likely to go lay in the bed Mydei had just told him not to touch, and Phainon followed after him with tightly gritted teeth, but not before laying a gentle caress on Mydei’s shoulder, an unspoken promise to be back. Khaslana, on the other hand, seemed content to explore, hovering down the steps to their basement even without his wings.

That just left him and the Flame Reaver, then.

“Well,” Mydei said, turning his back just slightly away from him. Better safe than sorry. “What should I call you, then?”

“Huh?” The Reaver jolted slightly at his words, having been cautiously examining a photo. It was the one the Trailblazers had taken for them before they’d departed, all of the heirs fit together into one pile, Phainon’s arm around Mydei’s neck.

“Mhm,” Mydei said, tugging his shoes off. His gauntlets came next. Normally, especially in times like this, he’d be more cautious to remove them. He had a mission, however, one that was not a battle he could win with his fists. “I can’t just call you The Flame Reaver of The Deepest Dark forever, can I?”

Deep breaths. He looked from Mydei, to the photograph, then back to Mydei.

“Neikos,” his voice rumbled, laboured. “It works, if nothing else.”

“Neikos, then,” Mydei nodded, a satisfied smirk making its way onto his face. “I’m going to be in the kitchen. Join me if you wish.”

Then he walked off, the invitation extended. He started setting up, and sure enough, after a couple moments of silence, heavy laboured footsteps trailed after him, stopping behind him. Mydei clenched his fists, then released them, leaving his back open. Then he turned, only slightly.

“I didn’t say you could come just so you could watch me bake,” Mydei scoffed. “Be useful and grab the eggs from the fridge.”

“You’re baking… at 11 pm?” Neikos said, his voice confused.

“I stress bake, usually in massive quantities,” Mydei provided offhandedly, moving to preheat the oven. “Forgive me. I may be slightly stressed, given the circumstances.”

“Of course, I meant no judgment, it’s just.” Neikos trailed over to the fridge, pulling out the egg cartoon. He held it in his hand contemplatively, staring as if it could provide him with all the answers in the world, before moving to place it on the table. “I had no idea.”

“It’s not something I necessarily share, nor something I withhold on purpose,” Mydei said, spreading out his mixing plates. He thought for a moment, before he took a risk. “If your Mydeimos didn’t tell you, don’t think of it as something you did wrong.”

A shuddering breath. “Phainon knows, surely.”

“Yes.” Mydei said. He pulled out the measuring cups, stuck one into the bag of flour. “ but I didn’t tell him. We live together, so he found out on his own.”

“You …. live together,” Neikos said, his voice strangely clipped. The egg he had pulled out of the carton cracked in his hands, and he stared down blankly as the yolk fell to the floor. Then, without another word, he moved to clean it up, picking at the shell and throwing it away. The silence in the air was tense, and Mydei cursed at himself. He never seemed to know the right things to say.

“Yes, we live together. It’s not like we’re together or anything, if that ridiculous notion is in your head. We merely live in the same house. It’s a lot more convenient that way.”

“You’re not … together?” Neikos, who had picked up another egg from the carton, cracked it in his hands again. “You live in the same house but you’re not together.”

Mydei stared at the egg yolk on the ground. “Yes.”

Neikos sighed, deeply from within his chest, then moved to clean up the broken egg again.

Ultimately, Neikos was not the worst partner he’d had in the kitchen by a long shot. While his hands were shaky and almost clumsy, laddened with a bone deep tiredness, he held the knife’s sharp blade with a deadly precision to cut through a bar of butter.

How silly, Mydei thought to himself with some sense of mirth. Forged to kill, yet here we are. Making cookies. Maybe healing was real.

Neikos stood out of Mydei’s way when need be, and only really stepped forward when called upon. He was cautious of his movements, staying a fair distance from Mydei unless he called for him, loyally appearing with sugar or vanilla extract in his hands.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Mydei appraised, setting the batter into the molds to bake. “Better than Phainon. He never asks for help and we always end up creating a monstrosity. The man can cook, yes, but titans forbid you try and get him to follow a proper recipe.”

A small humph, breath escaping in a little gasp. “How can he ask questions when he’s too busy talking and teasing?” 

“Exactly,” Mydei scoffed. The silence in the air was less tense than before, crafted into something comfortable. The wait in the living quarters was peaceful, all things considered. When the cookies were done, Mydei plated them, set them out to cool, and then asked if Neikos wanted one.

“You don’t have to,” he gestured vaguely to his face, where the other man’s mask was sat firmly. “I can turn around, or something.”

“It’s fine,” Neikos mumbled, cookie held in hand. It was quite a funny picture, the Flame Reaver and a chocolate chip cookie.

He sighed deeply, steeled his shoulders, and removed his mask. His eyes remained on the ground, as if he dreaded meeting Mydei’s eyes.

“Oh,” Mydei said, a soft puff of air leaving his lips. He didn’t bother trying not to stare. It wasn’t really in him, to be polite in that way. Instead, he raised a hand, almost unconsciously. When he went to lower it, however, Neikos had already pressed it against the side of his head, the one that had practically split itself open, leaking something cosmic and galactic from the wounds.

“I’m sorry,” Neikos murmured, voice clearer without the mask. “I know this couldn’t be what you were expecting.”

“With how you were acting,” Mydei said, softening his voice as much as he reasonably could. He hoped it didn’t come off as jagged, as judging. “Here I was, expecting something hideous.”

Wide eyes. Neikos tilted his head, face morphing into a look of pure disbelief.

“I never wanted you to see me like this,” he admitted quietly. “Not once. This broken, hollow shell deserves none of your adoration.”

“And yet it has all of that and more, without you ever needing to ask for it,” Mydei said, voice gentle, his breath coming out as a low sigh. Then, with swift hands, he grabbed the cookie from his hands and shoved it into his mouth. Neikos stared at him, then, at his urging, chewed and swallowed.

“It’s good,” he said numbly.

“Of course it is,” Mydei said confidently. “I made it. Although, I suppose you helped a little. Some credit is due.”

Mydei turned towards the steps and did not look back. This was all he could provide him, quiet acceptance. “There's some spare blankets in the closet down the hall. Argue amongst yourselves. I’m going to make sure Phainon and Irontomb have not slaughtered each other.” 

Then he stepped into his bedroom, ignored the all out brawl Phainon and Irontomb had engaged themselves in, and collapsed onto his bed

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“Should we really leave them alone down there?” Phainon said. Mydei would never admit it, but he was also slightly worried. What if they’d just killed each other down there or something? He didn’t want to think about what effect that may have on Phainon’s psyche.

“Well we’re certainly not bringing them up here,” Mydei said instead, disgruntled.

“Maybe we should call the Astral Express back,” Phainon said offhandly. “We could use their aid if Irontomb really does try anything.”

Mydei thought about it, visualized the Trailblazer making horrendous, terrible jokes about the situation, and vehemently turned the idea down. He was already losing his mind, he didn’t need Phainon’s loud, odd partner making his headache even worse somehow.

“Send them a message if shit gets real, got it,” Phainon sighed. “I just can’t believe they’re living in our house, I can’t believe Irontomb is sleeping in our living room.”

“It’s only for a little while,” Mydei murmured. He gently raised a hand up, brushing hair from Phainon’s face and revealing deeply worried eyes. 

“I know I said I wasn’t worried, before, and I don’t think they’re going to do anything that could hurt anybody, but I’m still feeling a little concerned.”

“Don’t be,” Mydei said, taking on the role of support, ignoring the own nagging feeling in his head telling him he should be very, very worried. “Nothing is going to happen, Phainon. Really.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Mydei woke up to the smell of smoke and a cursed feeling in his gut.

His house was on fire.

Ignoring his deep urge to turn back around and go back to sleep, he pulled himself out of bed, slipped on his custom made chimera slippers, and stalked down the stairs in a way he hoped sounded frightening and menacing.

“It’s been a day,” he said to the crowded kitchen. He ignored the microwave on fire. “Not even, it’s been like 12 hours. What are you doing?”

“Don’t look at me,” Phainon instantly said. “I just got here.”

Neikos, from his position in the corner of the kitchen, looked at Mydei with a sort of desperation. Despite the man’s mask back on his face, he could practically see the agony seeping from the his bones in deadly waves.

“Maybe if Khaslana hadn’t insisted on trying to make eggs, this wouldn’t have happened,” Irontomb said, watching Phainon try to put out the fire with amusement in his eyes.

“One day you will disappear from everyone’s memory and the only reason one will ever speak your name will be to mock how badly you failed as a Lord Ravager.” Khaslana said darkly.

“I don’t see what that has to do with your terrible omelets,” Irontomb chirped, shrugging his shoulders. A smirk wove its way onto his face. “At least I won’t be remembered for that.”

The divine light seeping off of Khaslana’s body in waves only seemed to grow brighter. At his side, Neikos desperately switched between looking at the ongoing fight to looking at Mydei, as if desperately pleading with him to do something.

Mydei sighed. Then, he turned off the stove, cutting off the fire’s source. With strong arms, he easily began shoving Phainon out of the kitchen, pushing him into the living room.

“Get out,” he said, crossing his arms. “Who said any of you were allowed in my kitchen anyways?”

“Mydei,” Khaslana said, desperation leaking out of his voice, but Mydeimos was having none of it. He pointed at the living room again, crossing his arms. Then he began tapping his foot impatiently, just for the extra effect.

“Go,” he repeated again, and Khaslana sighed, dramatically and in a way that was so very Phainon. Then he stalked out of the kitchen, frustration layered on his face. Irontomb followed him, but not before giving him an ominous look, his lips twitching up as if he was holding in a laugh.

How odd, Mydei didn’t think this situation was very funny.

Quietly, almost out of his notice, Neikos began walking out of the kitchen too, his metaphorical tail between his legs. He almost managed to leave before Mydei noticed.

He clicked his tongue, and Neikos stilled. “Not you. Stay.”

Stay he did. He turned, and it was almost impressive how eager he looked without even being able to see his face. With a roll of his eyes, Mydei pointed towards the fridge.

“I have a lot of omelets to make, you don’t mind helping, right?”

“Not one bit,” Neikos said breathlessly, and Mydei grinned. Neikos settled beside him, propping the egg carton open, and they got to work.

“I apologize, I’m still not too used to cooking with others,” Mydei admitted. “If I get in your way, simply speak your mind. I’ll move.”

“You could never get in my way, Mydei,” Neikos insisted.

“… Fine.” Mydei said. Then he deliberately stepped on Neikos’ foot. He didn’t flinch, but Mydei did hear him let out a small exhale. He’d take that.

They moved with a rhythm that Mydei had never really been expecting. He knew, reasonably, that things like this helped dull the sounds in ones head. Or at least, they helped Mydei. The domesticity of it all was almost like a balm on his soul, and briefly, he hoped Neikos felt the same.

Of course, something as simple as chopping an onion or shredding cheese could not undo a millennia’s worth of damage. Perhaps, though, the ache could lessen itself inside that hollow chest.

The thought made Mydei smile, if only briefly.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

He was only a man. He was not going to the baths eight times a day. He had a life to live.

Somehow, in some way, Irontomb had been a saving grace in this regard. He refused to even entertain the idea of stepping near water, citing water damage to his circuitries.

“Hah,” Khaslana had said, mouth snapping open to reveal sharp teeth, wide in merciless mirth. “Of course you don’t shower.”

Mydei hadn’t stuck around long enough to deal with that. This was Phainon’s battle, afterall.

Regardless, it was a small victory for him. That reduced the Phainon’s he needed to worry about from 4 to 3, which was much more manageable. Irontomb had taken to watching him ominously from the dark corners of the house every time he tried to leave, however. He had gotten used to it eventually, but seeing this strange version of Phainon simply staring at him, fully encased in darkness as his bright red eyes pierced through the veil, was enough to have him not leaving his room for a while.

Oddly enough, they refused to go with each other, insisting on Mydei having to always be there.

It was annoying more than anything. Surely, Phainon was the type of guy to take great pleasure in spending time with others, and who better to talk to then himself?

But no, it was as if the bath-houses were a sacred zone, a place where only one Phainon was allowed to exist at one time.

Phainon was the same as always, if not slightly more tired than usual, which Mydei could relate to more often then not. They had taken to wrestling in the water to see who could waterboard the other the longest.

Neikos was an odd presence whenever he joined him. He refused to remove his coat, so he was simply a large mass of black fabric drowning out all the water. The day would usually end with Neikos in the fetal position at the floor of the baths, with Mydei gently kicking him with his foot to see if he was still alive.

“How on Amphoreus do you breathe down there?” Mydei had asked the first time it had happened.

“Coreflames,” Neikos had said, sounding haunted. He had not elaborated.

Khaslana was, with all due respect, in which Mydei had none, a complete nightmare.

“You cannot,” Mydei had said, voice snapping on the edge of his restraint. “Go into Okehma without clothes on.”

Khaslana crossed his arms over his very bare chest. “Why not? Are we not going to the baths, where we shall discard our clothing anyways? Besides, you strut around without a shirt all the time.”

“Our situations are not comparable!” Mydei snapped for the sixth time. “I don a chiton, I’m still wearing pants.”

“I’m not,” Khaslana said, and tried to leave again. Mydei stood in front of the door, an immovable force versus an unstoppable object. Of course, Khaslana could very easily move him out of the way if he so desired, but both he and Mydei knew he wasn’t going to manhandle him. Small victories, Mydei repeated in his head to keep himself sane. Small victories.

“Just, please, go put something on. Anything,” Mydei pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make me beg again. I’m already going against Aglaea’s wishing by letting you out of the house.”

In the end, he managed to convince him to wear some sweats, one of Phainon’s hideous shirts slung over himself quickly.

It was a sight for sore eyes. It was hard to feel any sort of lingering, imposing fear when Khaslana was walking around wearing a tight fitting neon pink shirt that rode up to practically become a crop top and pants that were clearly too small for him.

“I think it’s funny,” he’d said quietly, staring at the shirt with a small chimera wearing a top hat on it. Mydei had sighed, his displeasure over his choice clear, but he hadn’t complained. At least he was wearing clothes now.

“Yoo-hoo! Lord Phainon!” A woman had called out while they were passing through the public baths. “I had no idea you were so into … body modification.”

Khaslana turned and stared at her down. Mydei hoped he was imagining the way the temperature rose. He intervened with as much grace as he knew possible. 

“You know the Deliverer,” Mydei said with a strained laugh, one that made everyone look at him with either concern or barely concealed disgust. “Always, uh, willing to try new things.”

Khaslana let Mydei lead him away with barely any effort, although his glare remained on his face. Khaslana, who seemed enraged almost all the time, whose anger burned both him and everyone else out in waves of undying hatred, where even a trip to the baths was enough to get his blood boiling.

Luckily for him, Mydei had enough control and restraint for the both of them.

Mydei almost scoffed at how quickly Khaslana tore off his clothes once more, sinking into the baths with a strained sigh leaving his lips, his bones flexing underneath the water and running down his back. Mydei dropped in after him, sitting nearby, not close enough to hold but enough that if one of them reached out, they would brush against each other.

One of them would have to reach out, though.

Khaslana turned and looked at him, something unknowable in his eyes.

Mydei glanced back at him, before shaking his head, small droplets flicking from his hair. The water rippled around him, warm and welcoming. “Is something the matter?”

Khaslana blinked, as if surprised at having been caught staring. “No, not at all. Just … thinking.”

“I wasn’t aware you were so capable," Mydei said, falling back into something comfortable, and Khaslana scoffed. He leaned closer, hands up against the edge of the pool.

“I pried myself on my intellect,” he said, voice low. His eyes tilted downwards. Mydei pointedly did not mention it.

It was easy to fall into this sort of banter. This was Phainon, afterall, and somedays, Mydei felt like he had been born to match Phainon in every conceivable way. How could he not, when every touch, every moment, was like a shared dream they had drawn together.

Khaslana leaned closer, and Mydei felt his breath against his nape, cooling the wet skin. The baths suddenly felt too warm, too hot, like he was being cooked alive. The strangest part was that he didn’t leave immediately, as if he longed to see how long he could last without getting burned-

“Lord Mydei, Lord Phainon!” A voice called out, and any semblance of peace was shattered. Khaslana flinched like he’d been caught doing something scandalous, scrambling to pull himself away from Mydei.

“…Lady Hyacine, Lady Castorice,” Mydei said, raising an arm. “A pleasure, as always.”

“Why are you here.” Khaslana asked, and really, he was probably not trying to be rude. Probably.

Castorice blinked, took in his appearance, and looked at Mydei with wide eyes. Mydei turned away from her gaze with the strength of a thousand men.

“… this is the heroes baths?” Hyacine said, her eyebrows creasing. “Is everything alright, Phainon?”

Khaslana let out a long suffering sigh. He crossed his arms and stood straight up, as if not willing to enjoy the water any longer. A golden flush bled onto his face as he turned back to glance at Mydeimos.

Hyacine raised an eyebrow, even as she entered the baths, leaning closer to Castorice, who seemed stuck looking at Mydei with her big, purple eyes. Mydei felt a bead of sweat trail down his forehead, although he wasn’t quite sure if it was from the rising temperature or Castorice’s judgmental state. 

“No, really, is there something different about you?” Hyacine asked, looking slightly baffled. “Something feels off. Why is it so hot in here? The saunas aren’t even nearby.”

“I got a haircut.” Khaslana said, teeth grinding together. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here. Mydei couldn’t really blame him. His nape still felt hot.

Silence. Castorice slapped a hand against her forehead.

“You know what?” Hyacine said, nodding solemnly. “I don’t care. Let’s just go with that. The haircut looks lovely, Phainon. I’m happy for you.”

Castorice was still staring at him, which Mydei thought was rude. She could’ve prevented all of this by just letting Death's Hand take him away from the land of the living so he could get his much needed vacation. What right did she have to judge him?

Khaslana was still looking at him, although in a vastly different way than Castorice. She was staring at him like she had lost all respect for him. Khaslana looked like he wanted to devour him whole and leave not even his bones. He did not know which he would rather face.

Mydei looked at Hyacine. Hyacine did not look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly on a poster taped to the wall.

Mydei felt inexplicably trapped like he’d never been before. He wanted nothing more than to leave now, actually. Before Castorice could confront him and ask him odd questions like ‘why is Lord Phainon’s doppelgänger out of the house’ or ’what were you two doing in the baths, this is a public space you know,’ and other random things.

“Well, this was nice, right Phainon? Wow, I love going to the baths with you. We should go three times a day instead of twice. Four times, even! I think we should leave now.”

“I desire you carnally,” Khaslana said, voice thick.

“What.” Mydei said.

“I beg your pardon?” Castorice said.

Hyacine was still staring at the poster on the wall. She was humming a simple tune, as if trying to prevent herself from hearing anything at all.

Then Khaslana reached out, and with strong hands, dragged him out of the water.

“I agree. Let’s go home,” he said, and started carrying him away. He likely hadn’t meant it in an ominous way, but it was quite possibly the scariest threat Mydeimos had ever received in his undying life.

“No, I changed my mind.” Mydei said, suddenly fearful. He tried to break out of Khaslana’s grip desperately. He looked back over his shoulder. “Lady Castorice, wait, don’t let him take me. Castorice!”

Castorice was suddenly very interested in the silky strands of Hyacine’s hair.

Mydei sighed, feeling his feet drag pitifully across the ground. It really was your own people.

“You left Phainon’s clothes at the bath,” Mydei said, a frown on his face.

“It’s alright, I won’t be needing them,” Khaslana said.

“Huh?” Mydei said, voice cracking. Then he tried breaking out of his grip once more. A heavy punch was laid against Khaslana’s chest, one surely to bruise, but Khaslana walked it off like Mydei had tapped him.

He did drop Mydei though, who stumbled out of his grip like a man possessed. Then, rapidly, he shook his head, grabbed onto his towel and clothes, and disappeared.

The walk back was silent, Khaslana at his back like a heavy, lingering weight. Mydei sighed deeply in relief when they reached the door.

Phainon was there, sleeping on the couch near the door. A recording played from his teleslate, Neikos collapsed on the ground next to the seats. He’d likely been waiting for him to come home, but exhaustion had crept up on him like a nasty surprise. Mydei could not help but smile at the sight, small but no less bright for it.

He looked over. Khaslana stared at him like Mydei had personally kicked his chimera. Then sliced it into pieces. Then set it on fire.

“Right.” He said. He stepped away from Mydei stiffly, before, under his breath, not loud enough for Mydei to hear. “Right, of course. Of course. What am I, a homewrecker?”

Mydei turned to watch him walk up the stairs, and something within him demanded he fix things, even if he was not sure what had broke.

“If there’s anything wrong,” Mydei said suddenly, cutting through the haze of the quiet house. Khaslana stilled. “You’d tell me, right?”

Quiet. Khaslana did not look at him.

“…Right?” Mydei asked. “Look, I know-“

“You were mine. You were mine before you were ever his,” Khaslana said suddenly, almost out of nowhere, a sickly desperation leaking into his tone, dragging with the weight of something incomprehensibly ancient. His hand hovered in the air before falling back down to his side.

“I’m … sorry?" Mydei said. He wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. 

Khaslana laughed at that, mirthless. There was something in his eyes that ached, a pain Mydei did not understand and could not possibly hope to heal. “Don’t be. Please don’t be. There is no world where you should apologize to me.”

Then, almost breathless, “You’re perfect.”

He backed away. Slow, cautious. He remained at the top of the staircase, staring down at him, always too far for him to grasp.

“Good night, Mydeimos,” Khaslana said, voice raspy. “What a mercy it is, that our blades and paths shall cross nevermore. It was all worth it, in the end. That ending I dreamt of, its dawn has arrived. I’m … very happy for you.”

He left, and Mydei, sitting in his post-bathing clothes, stared up at his departing form with a strange feeling in his chest that he was never quite able to outgrow, learned too soon. Grief, then. It was always grief.

Mydei walked back over to Phainon, whose anguished face smoothed over at his embrace, so easily it was like breathing. If only it could always be this easy, Mydei wished, before pulling the blanket closer over his body. If only.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

A quiet breath, loud in the dead of the night.

A deep inhale followed it, utterly taken aback. “What do you mean they're not together? Are you kidding me?”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The next morning, Mydei woke up, brushed his teeth, walked to the kitchen table and made himself a simple breakfast, greeting Phainon with a yawn and a smile.

He watched with tired eyes as Khaslana bounded down the stairs, whirling to stand in the doorway ominously, his figure tall and dark in the morning dawn.

“You,” he said, voice chilling. Then he lunged at Phainon with scary silence, clutched him by the shoulders, and threw him from his seat to the ground. Phainon fought back with desperate grappling hands and kicks, his voice reaching a high crescendo as he yelled. They tossed and turned on the floor, Khaslana’s large wings flaring out and knocking Phainon’s chair over.

Mydei put another bite of oatmeal into his mouth and sighed.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Irontomb wasn’t in the house.

Surely not a reason to panic, Mydei assured himself, because he couldn’t panic when Phainon was already panicking. Only one of them was allowed to panic at a time. 

Irontomb didn’t need to leave the house to cause trouble, after all, and he’d been remarkably well behaved if you ignored how he’d seemingly switched his life’s mission from killing one of the Trailblazer’s famed Aeons to ruining everyone’s day with badly timed digs at their psyche.

The problem was they had no idea where he was.

Before they decided to mess up what was probably a remarkably peaceful day for Aglaea, as if she didn’t already know, they decided they’d search for him themselves first before alerting anyone else.

“Let’s split up, then,” Mydei had said, forcing a layer of calm over his voice that he did not truly feel. ”We’re more likely to find him if we do.”

“Now, now, that doesn't seem like a great idea, dear Mydeimos,” Phainon chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know he said he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but the risk-“

“HKS. You dare imply I’m weak?” Mydei cocked his head, eyes narrowing threateningly. “Choose your next words wisely, Phainon.”

“No, no! Not what I meant,” Phainon said frantically, shaking his head side to side. “Just, you know, Irontomb-“

“I don’t see the problem,” he said, turning around. He started walking away. “Go, deliverer. Worry about yourself for once. I bet I could find him before you do anyways.” 

Phainon watched him go with an indescribable look in his eyes, not even the mention of competition enough to cheer him up. Mydei did not try to decipher it. Not now.

In the end, it wasn’t that hard to find him. He’d just followed the path of brutalized Titankin and corrupted areas to the offputting and fairly ominous gash in the world, a portal opening up to the other side of a universe Mydei was not privy to.

So he did the smart thing. He texted Phainon and told him he’d (very likely) found Irontomb. Then he turned his phone off and stepped through the opening.

The place was off putting and slightly sickening to be in, filled in with a mess of wires and tubes, screens upon screens littering the skies. Despite Amphoreus having been made corporeal, despite them having become real, this place seemed to have remained. A scar on themselves and their world.

Really, it was a mercy he found Irontomb as quickly as he did. He didn’t want to stay here any longer than he had to. 

“Lygus?” Mydei said, squinting his eyes. Then he blanched. “Lygus? What is Lygus doing here?”

In front of a wide, glowing screen, Irontomb hummed in a way that mocked tranquility, pieces of staticky glitches forming and unforming in the palm of his hand. “Do you think if I kill you and prop your decapitated head on the Lance of Fury, Mydeimos will let me hit?”

Mydei choked on his spit, hurriedly thumping at his chest to prevent any louder sounds from escaping.

“Please stop entering my memetic prison without permission and asking me odd questions,” Lygus said. 

The glitches shattered in his grasp as Irontomb clenched his fist, leaning in close. “That was not an answer.”

Lygus leaned away, his mouth curling in disgust.

Irontomb moved to say more, but he cut himself off. Then, with frightening stillness, he slowly turned his head towards where Mydei had hidden himself. Mydei ducked his head back, but it was clear he was too late.

“Oh,” he said. “Mydeimos, it’s not nice to eavesdrop. It’s okay, though. I don’t mind when it’s you.”

Then, “I’m afraid our conversation has come to a close, damned creator.”

Lygus sighed, deep in his throat. He said no more. A crash, as if something was hard and metallic was thrown to the ground. It hit the floor over and over again, the rattling making his ears ache.

Mydei … Mydei couldn't think. It was like everything in his head had jumbled together, rendering his skull numb and worthless. He shook it desperately, but nothing seemed to clear the haze in his mind. Just him and that damned thrashing.

Eventually, though, it stopped. Mercifully. Mydei let out a sigh of relief when it felt like he could breathe again.

Then, calm, calculated footsteps reached his ears, tapping against the ground lightly. They stopped in front of him. Irontomb wore Phainon’s boots as well. Everything about him was just Phainon, repurposed, reused, stolen.

Stolen.

“Mydeimos,” Irontomb said, practically whining. Still, it was almost affection that dripped off his lips, if Mydei’s ears could be trusted. “Mydeimos, don’t ignore me. Just look at me.”

Without any real hesitation, he looked up, eyes blurry. Only for a moment, however, as his eyes were instantly pulled elsewhere.

Lygus’ severed head dropped into his lap with a harsh clang against his armour, red, automated eyes staring up at him. Which, yeah, fair, he should’ve expected that.

Mydei blinked. Then, slowly, he looked back up. Irontomb was smiling at him, sweat bedding down his forehead.

“… do you like it?” He asked, smile stretching. “I couldn’t think of what else to get you.”

He squatted down, a hand reaching out. It stopped at the very last moment, simply hovering in the air, before it was returned to his side.

The antikytherian's head was not gorey. No blood strayed from where it had been torn off, no cartilage remained. Not even bone. Obviously. Why would there be any. They resembled statues and machines more than anything human.

Mydei blinked, the uneasiness likely rolling off himself in waves. This wasn’t anything new to him, of course, but the senselessness of it had him thrown for a loop. A long defeated enemy tormented simply for the thrill, however deserved it may have been. “Odd courting gift, if that’s what this is. Most people would go for flowers.”

“It’s a gift,” Irontomb insisted. He thumbed at Phainon’s collar, eyes darting from Mydei’s eyes to his lips, then back again. “For you and for me. You hate him, don’t you?”

“I- yes, I hated him,” Mydei agreed. He stood to his feet, and Irontomb grasped his hand to pull him up. He did not let go, even after he’d stood. When Mydei tugged lightly, his grip was unshakable as he led him away. Irontomb nodded at that, something finally managing to light up his eyes.

“It’s a shame that he’ll just come back,” Irontomb said lightly, his steps light against the metal floor. “But this is nice too! You can put it on your living room table, right beside that ugly antique vase.”

“Okay.” Mydei said. “Sure. I’ll go and do that.”

He stepped back through the portal, taking Irontomb’s hand almost instinctively. Castrum Kremnos greeted him, the Lance of Fury like an awaiting guillotine.

“It is truly a beautiful place, isn’t it? I’m quite proud of it myself. One of my most incredible creations,” Irontomb hummed, standing underneath the Lance of Fury. “Of course, it could never be my most incredible creation, not in 33 million years. That title belongs to another.”

“You know, we’d have really appreciated a heads up if you wanted to go take a walk.” Mydei sighed.

“Forgive me, Polemos,” Irontomb said, wiping a splatter of golden blood off his face. He had no idea how that had gotten there. After all, Lygus did not bleed. “I was going stir crazy in there.”

That black-red energy buzzed around him even now, faint, yet it caught on Mydei’s ears all the same.

Irontomb was still staring at him, his eyes flicking briefly to the head in Mydei’s grasp. He blinked, suspicious. This was wrong, him being here like this. He was so deep in his thoughts that he barely noticed when Irontomb got closer, approaching like one would a scared kitten. Against everything telling him not to, he stayed still, his curiosity overtaking any sense of rationality.

It wasn’t a move that he would usually make, but there was always something about Phainon that made Mydei act…. unreasonable.

Hands trailed up Mydei’s spine, resting tauntingly on his weak spot with an ironclad grip, pulling him towards himself. He did not move to punch Irontomb in the gut, however, because he had already tried that way back when and it had been made abundantly clear that it was not going to work.

“How possessive," Mydei remarked offhandly instead, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be afraid, I’m not going anywhere. Thank you, for the … gift.”

Irontomb blinked, eyes creasing, before he almost petulantly released Mydei’s back, as if he’d been burned. His face was contemplative as he looked from Mydei to his hands.

“You’re welcome,” Irontomb said, but his words weren’t nearly as confident as they’d been mere moments ago, as if he didn’t know where else to go from here.

Unbidden, a thought came to Mydei’s head. It was, well, it was stupid, really, and was probably going to get him killed permanently. He still wasn’t sure how much power Irontomb even possessed.

He pursed his lips, contemplating. Then he shrugged almost imperceptibly, took a deep breath, and stepped forward towards Irontomb.

“What.” He said. He looked at Mydei, then turned and looked at his surroundings, as if expecting someone to jump out and tell him how stupid he was. He took a step backwards. “What are you doing.”

Mydei raised an eyebrow. “I’m walking towards you.”

“I can see that,” Irontomb said, lips drawing back in a grimace. “Stop that.”

Yet, he did not move away further when Mydei stopped at his side. When he raised a hand to cup at his cheek, Irontomb’s face leaned into it like it was second nature.

Would you look at that? Mydei thought, a small smile worming its way into his face despite his efforts to keep his lips straight. When he’s not putting us through unimaginable hell, he’s practically just a red Phainon.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that thought. Irontomb was carved and formed as a volatile, unfeeling creation. Yet, he seemed to crave that attention Mydei provided as if it were his only lifeline.

He knew, he knew, that Irontomb was not Phainon. That the scepter had absorbed his data, used him as a source, and then taken on his appearance and power for his own means.

So why did he look at him like that? As if he’d been robbed of Mydei’s touch for a millennia? It made something stir inside Mydei’s chest, the creature responsible for all his agony staring at him like all he longed to do was hold him.

“It’s strange,” Irontomb said, voice low. The humming was louder now, like a needy whine begging to be heard. “But sometimes, when I see him with you, I feel such rage fill me to the core. It's improbable, like a virus has overtaken the equation. As if I’m watching a damned copy take my rightful place.”

He pressed Mydei’s hand deeper, deeper, as if trying to push him under his skin. “I have all his memories, my memories, but all the moments you shared with him, you shared with me instead.”

“Oh.” Mydei said, finally understanding. Something akin to horror spread through his body like ice. “You think you’re Phainon. You merged so deeply with Phainon you think you are him.”

There was something wrong.

A shudder, deep against his chest. Then, voice carefully blank. “I am Phainon. I am better then Phainon. Or not. Maybe I can be just the same instead. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“You’re not,” Mydei said. He pried his hand away. “But you knew that already, I assume."

“It’s maddening,” Irontomb admitted, voice having gone quiet. He stared at Mydei with a far off look in his wide eyes, sweat heading down his face in a trail. An odd smile worked its way onto his face, and Mydei thought he may have been trying to comfort him. “Even if I am aware, logically, that I am the copy, I cannot accept it. It is an unfathomable variable in my process.”

There was something wrong.

“Do not look at me like that,” Irontomb suddenly said, shoulders hunching towards his neck. His mouth pulled into a snarl. He looked less like Phainon with each passing second. “It sickens me.”

“I don’t pity you, if that’s what you fear,” Mydei finally said, something on the edge of his heart. “I find that feeling to be worthless. It provides little.”

His message to Phainon hadn't been sent. He resent it with a rough drag of his fingers.

“I agree,” Irontomb said. His face smoothed over, becoming uncannily blank. “I do not need that from you, nor could I take it if you have it for me.”

An error message popped up, one, then another, until his teleslate was completely covered in them. He turned it off with a click.

There was something wrong.

“Do you hate me, Mydeimos?” Irontomb asked. His voice was heavy. He looked deeply distraught, and something within Mydei mourned the part of Phainon who existed within that cursed soul. He wondered if he was lost and confused. Alone.

“The thought runs in my mind, I admit. My distaste for you burns deep. However,” Mydei shook his head. “It's ultimately meaningless. You did not feel, you did nothing out of malice. Not until Phainon. Even then, your existence was a straight path chosen by another. I would not wish that on anyone or anything. Not even you.”

Irontomb said nothing. Perhaps he was also thinking.

“I think I understand you better now,” Mydei said faintly. Slowly, almost silently, Irontomb closed the distance yet again. This time, he made no further moves for a long dragged out moment.

Then, something cracked in the air, and Irontomb raised his head back and laughed. It was deeply off putting, completely out of touch, like he was trying to stitch the tear he had made back up.

“That’s all I could ever ask of you, Mydeimos!” Irontomb said, that same twisted smile drawing itself onto his lips. It, oddly enough, did not bring Mydei as much pain as it used to.

You should leave, Mydei thought. He could not seem to voice it no matter how hard he tried. As if the option simply didn’t exist.

“Come on,” he said instead, watching Irontomb’s smile grow, staring at the way it contorted Phainon’s face into a mess of wrongness that could not be salvaged. “We have to go home.”

He placed the antikytheran’s head right where Irontomb had asked him to. When Phainon had seen it, he’d scrunched up his brows and given him a pitifully confused look. Mydei could only helplessly shrug.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Three weeks after Aglaea had given him what had to crack at least the top ten weirdest days of his life, it drew to a close when the Grove finally contacted them, sending over the antidote.

Honestly, he almost couldn’t believe it was over. He had gotten strangely used to this odd situation. When the Grove had finally delivered the cure to the memoria problems, all he could think was that it would be oddly quiet in the house again, even with all of his and Phainon’s fighting.

Mydei opened the bottle with careful hands, watching the mist seep into the air.

“Do you feel any different?” He asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. Phainon blinked, then looked down at himself. Then he stared at himself x3 from across the table.

“I don’t think it’s working,” Phainon said, frowning.

“Are you sure you did it right?” Khaslana asked, and Mydei nodded sharply.

“The instructions were very clear. Open the bottle, let the mist flow out, make sure everyone who is in the contamination zone is together. Surely, what else must be-“

He cut himself off with a strangled gasp, his hand clutching the glass bottle tightly. It shattered under his hands in an instant, the broken shards falling to the floor and mixing with his blood. He felt himself lean against the table, trying to hold himself up as his legs faltered on him.

“Mydei, what-“ Phainon asked, concern blatant on his face. Only for his own face to pinch up, a hiss leaving his lips.

“HKS. Don’t tell me you don’t feel that too,” Mydei groaned, a bloody hand against his forehead. It felt like his skin had been set on fire, burning him alive. It got underneath his skin in a way that felt agonizing, sending him into what felt like a panicked daze.

Nobody else seemed to be in a better state, either. Phainon had deemed the best course of action to be collapsing against Mydei with a groan, his bit skin flush against his own. Khaslana had gone as still as a statue, staring at the floor as sweat beaded off of him in waves., somehow just as affected by the heat as the rest of them. Neikos had ripped his mask off his face and his hood off his head, revealing that cracked gaze that stared at the ceiling for answers. Or maybe mercy from the Titans to smite him down.

Irontomb, however, was nothing short of amused, even as he panted, flushing Phainon’s face with a tinge of golden red.

“How curious,” he said, running a clawed hand across the table, stopping next to Mydei. He tilted a finger under his jaw, lifting it up to gaze at his flush, taking in his dazed eyes, all glassy and hollow. “It seems, upon trying to make a strong enough antidote to merge an Emanator back together piece by piece, something went wrong.”

“What are you saying?” Mydei panted, feeling how Phainon wrapped his arms around his waist only vaguely. “Why haven’t you merged back yet?”

A flickered glance had Mydei’s eyes narrowing. “I’m not sure. What I am sure of, is that whatever they did create, it seems to also function as an intensely powerful aphrodisiac.”

Irontomb clenched at Mydei’s hand, holding it flat against his heart. Mydei felt it beat deep between Phainon’s ribs, fast and deadly.

“Can you feel it?” Irontomb asked, his breaths increasing in increments. He smiled, deep pants leaving his lungs in waves. “How badly I yearn for you?”

“Back off,” Phainon said from somewhere behind him, his hands around Mydei’s waist. The delirium seemed to be leaving him, slowly but surely. Mydei tried not to think about what was pushed up against him from behind. “Mydei’s mine. You can figure this out on your own.”

“I’m yours?” Mydei said faintly. In between his daze, he thought he might have heard Neikos groan.

Gritted teeth lashed out with a snarl, and he vaguely registered Irontomb tugging at his arm. He almost felt like he was a chew toy being tossed around. “So greedy. The famed deliverer doesn't even know how to share between himself? It’s not as if you’ve even claimed him in that way regardless.”

“Bastard, go fuck yourself or something,” Phainon grumbled. Then he blinked, gesturing to Khaslana and Neikos. “Literally. You have options here.”

Irontomb stepped forward again, and this time, something else pushed him away.

“Are you nothing more than a mutt? Stop trying to grab at him like that, you’re embarrassing us,” Khaslana said, eyes narrowed.

Mydei watched Irontomb’s face contort into something truly demeaning. “I could’ve made you using scratch. In a cave. With some scrap metal.”

“I don’t even know what any of that means.” Khaslana said.

“Hm. Of course you don’t,” Irontomb sighed, shaking his head. 

He grasped Mydei’s hand, forcing the blonde haired man to stare deeply into dark red pupils. If he looked closely enough, he swore he could see lines of code running through them, glitching in and out over and over again. “Let’s go, Mydei! We don’t have to stay here with them any longer.”

A slap against Irontomb’s hand. “Stop touching him like that, he’ll never consider it if you’re so rough,” Neikos said. Everything was blurry, he couldn’t tell who. There were eight Phainon’s instead of four now.

“If he’s going to give anyone a chance, it won’t be any of us,” Neikos sounded oddly saddened, which was weird, because aside from trying to satiate his lust from the aphrodisiac, there was no reason to be acting so heartbroken over the concept of Mydei not wanting to be with him.

“I have a better chance than it,” Khaslana said, narrowing his eyes. His wings and halo had disappeared in a flash of light, leaving him remarkably bare.

Irontomb blinked, his head tilting at an unnatural angle as he stared up at what may have been Khaslana with empty eyes. “I would give anything to tear you into little tiny pieces.”

Then, to Mydei, “Won’t you let me have you? Just this once? Surely you’ll give your deliverer that.”

“You’re terribly shameless,” Mydei said with a slight grimace, watching as Khaslana tore Irontomb away from him with a clenched fist around his forearm.

Then, unbidden, he chuckled lightheartedly. “Phainon, isn’t it kind of weird how every version of you wants to be with me. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. I mean, wow, that’s sort of strange. You’d think there’d be more resistance to the idea.”

Phainon clutched at his waist tighter. Mydei’s chuckles died out.

He glanced at Neikos, Khaslana, and finally Irontomb.

“Oh.” He said. “Oh no. Titans, how long have you liked me?”

“33 million cycles ago, give or take,” Khaslana sighed.

“Somewhere around that time, yes,” Neikos agreed.

“Since the very moment I saw you,” Phainon murmured into his nape. Mydei shuddered.

“Last week.” Irontomb said. 

Everyone turned to look at him, and he sighed deeply through his nose. “I only started feeling something when me and the Neikos496 program merged, you have to give me some time to process.”

”I need you dead.” Khaslana said.

“Mydei,” Neikos’ voice softly rang out, and even through the haze, he found mirth in how much of a comfort his voice brought him now. It was a far cry from the start. “If you don’t want this, i’m sure all of us would understand, but …”

Suddenly, there was simply too much crowding his space. Too many bodies surrounding him when he couldn’t do anything about it, all stupidly tall and large and in his way, batting bright puppy eyes and making soft begging noises. One hand cradled his waist, another wrapped themselves around his leg. He wished he could tell which one had fallen to the floor and nuzzled against his thigh.

This wasn’t fair. They probably knew that, which made it worse.

“Don’t send me away…” someone said against his ear. “Let me remember  your noises, how beautiful your face flushes."

“Just once,” another said. “Am I so undeserving?”

“Please,” someone sighed, and Mydei groaned, throwing his head back.

“Okay, yeah, I want this,” Mydei accepted himself for who he was. Then he turned to nudge at Phainon, who was still pushing at his neck. “Phainon. I’m fine with this, but if you aren’t, we won’t do it, alright?”

Silence, then quietly, panting into Mydei’s shoulder. “Normally … I think I’d be more against this, but … everyone here is me anyway.”

A deep chuckle, low in his throat “I think you’d look perfect getting spit-roasted by two versions of me.”

Mydei gaped at him, then he yanked him off his shoulder and gave him a stone cold glare. If Phainon had any regrets, Mydei could not see it in his eyes.

“So … it’s alright?” Khaslana asked, suddenly hopefully.

“Yes, it’s alright,” Mydei said, a small smile on his face. He shook his head. “I accept.”

He words barely had time to linger in the air before he was being carried and dragged, practically paraded up the stairs, yanked up by eager hands and even more eager lips. He crashed onto his mattress with a gasp, bouncing slightly from merely the impact. He laughed out loud, head thrown back.

Then he pressed his lips together, humour lost. He had tried so hard to keep them all away from his bed.

He didn’t get the chance to say that however, however, because suddenly all he could feel was Phainon.

Phainon was so much, all the time. He was a writhing body of pure, defined muscle, always desperate to cling onto him tight. He had greed strong enough to rival even the most cunning thieves in Dolos, so excited to kiss and hold and love, his lips and his hands eager to caress any inch of skin he could.

Mydei just wasn’t prepared for that to be multiplied by 4, and how that would feel, how overwhelming and overstimulating it all was. Despite how on edge they had been through this entire ordeal, they worked together frighteningly well when it was something they all wanted. Someone mouthed at his earlobe, trailing a tongue down his neck to bite at his shoulder. He thought someone may have been stretching his ass, fingering him with rough hands. He watched with bleary eyes as Phainon tossed a small bottle of lube to Neikos from across the bed. 

A mouth trapped his own in breathless kiss while another sucked on a nipple gently, pressing fairy light kisses to the nub while pinching and tugging on the other, almost desperate to yank it off. At the same time, a calloused hand grinded roughly against his cockhead, a sharp nail from a gauntlet digging into the tip of his slit, lapping up precum with a sinful vigour. The sensations all around had Mydei groaning, his back leaving the bed covers with a pathetic whine.

“Mydei…” Neikos murmured against his collarbones, rough hair bumping up against his chin. “You’re so perfect …”

“And so, very sensitive,” Khaslana says aloud, pulling his hand up and down the length of his cock and making Mydei buck upwards. He watched him twitch, cocked his head, and then fisted his cock with a renewed interest, as if desperate to see all the new ways he would react. Then, when that tell-tale sign that he was about to cum had him bucking, Khaslana didn’t hesitate to grip at the base of his cock, stopping him in his tracks. He whined, desperately, but Khaslana merely smiled, pulling his hands back to instead focus on thighs.

Mydei tried to jerk into the movement, to create some sort of friction, but new, clawed hands held him down, although he couldn't tell who. Sloppy kisses were pressed into his abdomen, and calloused hands pulled his legs apart just to lay desperate, wet bites on his inner thighs. Someone was still yanking at his nipples, harsh and desperate sucking getting them all red and puffy. A heavy breath against them had him jerking upwards from how sensitive they were.

At some point, he stopped trying to tell who was who, which Phainon was doing what. His body reacted to the knowing, eager touches all the same, his cock desperately leaking having been denied orgasm.

Mydei managed to unlatch a hand from his sheets, and he found himself reaching down to take some of the edge off of his cock, only to groan pathetically when it was batted away almost instantly. His hands were trapped in an odd encasing of red and black boxes, and no matter how hard he yanked, he could not get them free.

“Nuh uh,” Irontomb sing-songed, sadistic delight overtaking his eyes. Mydei thought he might have seen his name in his eyes, echoed over and over again. “You’ll come on a cock or not at all.”

Sudden hands around his waist had him yelping, his back dragging until he was stumbling off the bed, standing on shaky legs. Behind him, Neikos bit roughly at his neck, leaving behind a ring of bruises. 

“Hey, who said you could go first?” Phainon whined, tugging slightly at his collar.

“Be a good boy and wait your turn, Phainon,” Neikos laughed, nuzzling at the side of Mydei’s neck. If it weren’t for that ominous weight pressing against his thigh, he’d almost think his actions were innocent.

Mydei had always been aware that Neikos was tall, much taller than him, but he still found himself gasping at how his hands seemed to encircle his waist almost completely. He lifted Mydei up by the hips easily, practically lifted straight off the ground.

He sucked in a sharp gasp as he felt that hard cock nudge up against his hole, his tip breaching Mydei just slightly. Neikos panted against his neck roughly, only to shift and drag his whole body upwards, impaling Mydei deeply on his cock and holding him there.

They shared a dragged out moan, Neikos rutting into him desperately. 

“…Tight.” He whined, his thick cock spreading Mydei’s walls completely. Mydei threw his head back as he started moving, bouncing him up and down the length of his shaft. Phainon rose from the bed like a man possessed, trailing over just to raise his head, meeting Mydei’s lips deeply.

Mydei felt himself flush, his eyes softening as he felt Phainon caress his cheek. Mydei kissed him again, harder this time, trying to drag his mind away from the burning, brutal stretch.

“This- this is all your fault,” Mydei groaned, feeling that fat cock absolutely ravage his insides. “Why the hell are you so big?”

Phainon laughed, his forehead resting on Mydei’s before he drew back, stepping back just far enough to wrap a fist around Mydei’s aching cock, running a hand up the length intermittently. “Don’t lie, you love it.”

“Not,” he gasped, feeling Neikos’ thrusts increase in power, pushing into him over and over again, as if he was trying to stop his hole from ever closing up. His back arched when one particular thrust jabbed against his prostate. “Not the point.”

He whined in dissatisfaction as Phainon drew off his cock again, leaning backwards and sitting back down roughly on the bed, flicking a hand against his own cockhead. That was it, he understood now. Everyone here was Phainon, and Phainon was mean, no wonder no one was letting him cum. He’d almost forgotten that detail.

Suddenly, he felt himself scream in pleasure when Neikos leaned down and grasped at the undersides of his knees and dragged him upwards, lifting his whole body up and down as if he were nothing more than a cocksleeve. Neikos barely even seemed to be straining under his weight. The stretch, the pounding, the ache in his cock, it almost felt like too much. His legs were lifted above his head and his body was held still as Neikos began jackhammering into him at a rapid pace. Each hit penetrated him deeply, and each time he pulled out was an excruciatingly pleasurable drag as he slammed back in. He moved like he wanted to destroy his ass, his balls slamming against him with every thrust of his heavy cock.

He wrenched a hand from behind his knees and reached upwards, rapidly pulling at Mydei’s cock, finally. and that was enough to have him cumming with a loud moan. His cum dropped down slowly, falling to the floor with a loud plop. Neikos finished around his fluttering walls, pressing him down to the hilt as if he were trying to make sure it took.

Phainon dragged himself away as Neikos carried himself back over to the bed, dragging Mydei off his cock with a thick groan,  half-heartedly spurting out a few more ropes of cum over his back before he dropped Mydei onto the sheets gently, a fair contrast from how he’d been acting mere moments ago. He brushed hair out of Mydei’s face with such soft fingers, and Mydei could not help but lean into the touch. He smiled.

“You love me,” Neikos whispered, almost awestruck, as if the thought was incomprehensible in his fragile mind. “You truly love me, don’t you? Even after I’ve ruined you?”

“What a silly question,” Mydei said raggedly, eyes sliding closed. “How could I not love all of you?”

“You have all of me to love,” Neikos murmured, almost reverently. He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before stepping away, kneeling between his thighs. He stopped, cocked his head, and blinked at the sight.

“Wow,” Irontomb whistled, a tongue reaching out to lick at his lips, almost hungrily, managing to absolutely destroy the atmosphere that had been created. With quick hands, he dissipated Mydei’s make-shift binds. Then, he raised his own hand to nudge at the mess that was Mydei’s ass, before running a sharp finger across the length of his cock. It had barely softened despite how hard he had come. Neikos was in a similar state, his cock still standing hard against his abdomen, flagging only for a mere moment before thickening up again. Neikos let out a long suffering sigh, a hand wrapping around it.

“I can’t believe this, what a mess we’re in.” he grunted.

“I can’t believe you,” Phainon said. He rolled his eyes, shoving Neikos off the bed to sit directly in between Mydei’s thighs in his place.  “Some people will complain about anything. Oh, my golden honeycakes are too soft and fluffy, my dromas steak is too juicy. Man, shut up.”

“You’re deeply irritating, I hope you know that.” Neikos said gruffly. He sat back down onto the king sized bed stiffly, but not before sending Mydei a soft look, love so deep in his eyes it made everything in Mydei ache, not just his ass.

Phainon, though, didn’t spare anyone else a glance, too enraptured by the sight before him. He grabbed at Mydei’s thighs and spread them, grinning at how he weakly moaned, before he pressed himself in, taking Neikos’ place. He pounded into Mydei like he couldn’t stand the thought of not being inside of him any longer, his hands moving to keep his thighs spread.

“So perfect,” he crooned, settling into a deep pace, watching Mydei’s eyes flutter shut. He slammed forward the last couple inches, his balls smacking against Mydei’s ass wetly, fucking into his warmth. Moans tore out of their throats as Phainon’s pace managed to impossibly quicken, his hands tugging at his waist and lifting him slightly off the bed. The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin echoed through the room wildly. Phainon came with a shattered cry, lazily thrusting his hips into Mydei’s wet hole, creating friction against his weeping cock with his abdomen, too soon for it to come again despite it being as hard as ever.

“All mine, Mydei, you’re mine,” Phainon murmured, pressing himself down so they were chest to chest. Mydei felt his eyes roll, dragged back as Phainon hit overly sensitive walls.

Then his eyes slid over to where Khaslana was sitting. He had such an unimpressed look on his face that Mydei couldn’t help but laugh, the sound catching both him and Phainon off guard.

“Wha-?” Phainon grumbled, stilling his hips. He turned his head, moving to look at Khaslana, then Neikos, and finally Irontomb. “That’s so not fair. ⅘ people here are literally me. You’re still all mine, Mydei.”

“I was here first, so really, Mydei’s all mine.” Khaslana said competitively.

“I was here before Phainon, at least.” Neikos mumbled under his breath, likely reminiscing about his own eternal recurrence.

“I’m better than you.” Irontomb said. “I know that has nothing to do with what you were talking about, I just thought I’d mention it.”

“Shut up,” Phainon begged, his hips rutting desperately against Mydei’s ass. “All of you, just shut up. I’m trying to have sex here.”

“This is taking too long,” Irontomb grumbled. He crawled forward, dragging Phainon out of Mydei and making both of them yelp. Mydei felt himself flush as cum dribbled out of his hole in waves. Eyes watched him for every angle, almost desperate just to see.

“Mydei, Mydei, my dear Mydeimos,” Irontomb said, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. Mydei felt his eyes narrow, deeply unimpressed. He knew that look. He knew it very well, infact. Irontomb would never be able to get Phainon’s puppy-dog eyes quite right, Mydei thought.

“What.” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Irontomb smiled, a bright grin weaving its way onto his face.

“Why don’t I give you a gift?” He said, eyes sparkling. “Just a present from me, your favourite Phainon.”

“Realistically you don’t even crack the top 5,” Neikos said mercilessly.

“A … gift? Again?” Mydei asked, slightly hesitant. With how Irontomb was, he truly had no idea what it could be. The range was anything between Lycurgus’ head on a platter to devouring a star system and killing an aeon. He was slightly concerned.

“Yes,” Irontomb crooned. His hands trailed lower, lower, until they landed at the space between his cock and his cum filled ass. “Only if you want it, of course. It would just be a little something from me to you, a way for us to make this more enjoyable for all of us.”

“What.” Mydei said again. He didn’t appreciate maddening riddles. “Speak clearly.”

“Oh for Kephale’s sake,” Khaslana pressed a hand against his forehead, slapping a hand against it multiple times. “He’s asking if he can give you a vagina, Mydeimos.”

Phainon choked on his saliva from where he had been mercilessly thrown.

“Oh.” Mydei said, his chest filling with both horror and, embarrassingly enough, a deep jolt of lust. “You … you can do that?”

“I can do anything,” Irontomb scoffed, slightly offended. “You name it, I’ll get it done for you Mydeimos.”

Then, far too eager, he pressed a hand deeply against Mydei’s abdomen. It made him lurch forward roughly.

“May I?” He asked, breathless, and Mydei was ashamed to admit how vigorously he nodded. He would blame everything on the aphrodisiac later.

“Yes, yeah, whatever you want,” Mydei said, rubbing away the drool that had fallen down his face. He chuckled lightly at how Irontomb’s eyes practically lit up at his words, red light reflecting off the room's walls.

His smile turned sinister then, cold on the edges, as black and red boxes manifested in his hands, glitches travelling down his arm and spreading across Mydei’s stomach, just above his navel.

Mydei’s mouth fell open, a strange sensation wrapping him up like a maddening cacophony, but just as quickly as it had come, it vanished, and Mydei was left feeling vaguely off kilter.

“There,” Irontomb said, smugly satisfied. He pressed a kiss to his abdomen, where a small sun tattoo now rested almost menacingly, pulsing with red and golds. “That wasn’t that bad, no?”

He blinked, and then felt his eyes widen, feeling something new down between his legs.

“Oh wow,” Phainon murmured, staring down in awe at the lower half of Mydei’s body. With deft, curious fingers, Irontomb reached forward, harshly flicking his newly formed nub. Mydei felt himself jerk upwards, back arching as a shocked gasp left his lips at the new sensation.

“You are so odd,” Phainon said suddenly, eyes furrowed. He turned to look at Irontomb. “Quite literally the closest definition to the divine creator we have, and you’re using your world altering powers to what? Give Mydei a womb?”

“I wasn’t like this before,” Irontomb said darkly, eyes lacking any sort of light. He stared off into Mydei’s pussy as if it could provide him with answers. Mydei tried to close his thighs, but someone held them open forcefully. “I used to know peace. Then I absorbed you, we became one, and all I wanted to do was give my THE HUNT program a baby.”

Irontomb shuddered, flicking at Mydei’s clit roughly, relishing in the fragile gasp he released. “I didn’t even care about killing NOUS anymore. That’s how badly I wanted to hit.”

“Can we please not do this right now?” Mydei asked, a small whine leaving his lips as Irontomb pressed a rough tongue against his cunt’s folds.

“Hm,” Khaslana said. He, unlike Irontomb, moved slowly, with purpose. With burning hands, he caressed Mydei’s new lower lips, tracing his folds, before slowly plunging a sharp finger inside his cunt, glancing up at him when he let out a garbled moan.

“Maybe you’re good for something after all, Irontomb,” Khaslana said, pushing his finger deeper and deeper, chuckling lightly at the way slick seemed to spurt out of his pussy with every slight movement. The wet squelching only grew louder as Khaslana added another finger, pushing and pulling it open. After he’d sloppily fingered him to his liking, he leaned down, bringing a hot tongue against his hole and lapping up any excess slick like a man starved. “Mydei, you’ve barely had this pussy for a couple minutes now, and you’re already a leaky mess?”

Mydei moaned, throwing a hand against his mouth as the pleasure managed to almost overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, only to yank them back open when he felt something against his cock, barely even noticing someone pull his hand away from his mouth.

“Phainon,” Mydei gasped, watching him take his entire cock into his mouth. Phainon glanced up at him, mischief in his eyes, before he sank back down, letting Mydei’s cock rest against the back of his throat. He flicked his tongue up and down, stimulating his head until Mydei was bucking up into his mouth, held down only by the force of the worldbearing titan himself. The obscene sound of squelching and moaning filled the air with a vigour. 

“Phainon, you- nghh,” Mydei felt his lips get captured in a kiss, flicking his eyes to watch as Neikos vied to devour his mouth, dragging two hands down to kneed at his nipples, pulling and crushing them between his large fingers, cooing at the way Mydei moaned into his mouth. It was too much, too much, every single part of him being overstimulated. All it took was one quick flick to his clit from Irontomb and he was cumming his brains out again, finishing into Phainon’s mouth and against Khaslana’s face with a ragged gasp, collapsing limply onto the sheets.

Phainon pulled out, nuzzling his cheek against Mydei’s still hard but slightly relieved cock, lapping up any precum that dripped out of it like a faucet and causing it to twitch. “How greedy, all that and you still want more?”

“It’s alright, is that not what we’re here for?” Khaslana asked. Even with slick dripping off his face, he still looked remarkably dignified. With a finger, he wiped most of it off of himself, looking down at Mydei so he could watch him lazily lick it off with fingers, curling his own tongue around his digits. His dick twitched again, making Phainon laugh.

Neikos, who had moved from kissing his lips to mauling his neck like a dog with rabies, hummed plaintively. “You can take more, right Dei?”

“Of course he can,” Irontomb said, a finger moving to yank at his engorged clit with an almost clinical interest, smiling at the way his cunt clenched needily. “He has to. He’s barely satisfied himself, let alone all of us.”

… despite his previous complaints, Mydei was suddenly very glad for the aphrodisiac. He had a feeling he was going to be needing the lack of refraction period.

With surprising ease, Irontomb lifted Mydei’s boneless body, easing his whimpers with harsh kisses as he settled Mydei on top of him, spreading his legs and pushing his hands up against his pussy, spreading his bottom lips wide and showing him off, watching the way those strands of slick dripped off his fingers and fell onto the bed sheets.

Meanwhile, with his other hand, he grasped his painfully hard cock, nudging up against the cunt he’d held open before slowly slotting himself in, pushing until he bottomed out, practically spearing Mydei on it.

“So beautiful,” Phainon murmured, reverent as he traced his hand against the stretched edges of Mydei’s cunt. “So pretty, so pretty. It’s like a flower full of ambrosia.”

Mydei hated how much he flushed at those words, his cock already back to full hardness as Irontomb began to thrust slightly, rutting up into him. 

Khaslana fumbled out of his pants at the speed of light, the soft click of a belt buckle from the pants Mydei had forced him to wear being the only warning Mydei had before hands were pushing his thighs up towards his head to give free access to his hole. Suddenly, almost instantly, his cock was sheathed inside of Mydei’s pussy as well, pushing in at the same time Irontomb thrusted upwards, both of them deep inside of him at the exact same time. 

“No,” Neikos immediately said, batting roughly at Khaslana’s shoulder. “Stop that, not at the same time. It’s too much, you’re going to hurt him.”

“It’s alright,” Irontomb said, a sharp smirk making its way onto his face as he thrusted upwards, making Mydei jolt into his touch. “He likes it, can’t you tell? He needs two cocks to fill him up.”

The moan that fell from Mydei’s lips at the feeling was sinful and wanton, and Irontomb cackled against his neck when he heard it. “Nasty thing.”

“Oh,” Neikos said wildly, licking at his lips. He leaned upwards to kiss roughly at Mydei’s cock, voice still just as soft. “Mydei … why didn’t you tell me you were a whore?”

“Shut up,” Mydei begged, throwing his head up against the bed's headboard, bringing a hand down to tug at Neikos’ hair roughly when he heard him chuckle.

Only for his grip to falter almost instantly. Mydei’s mouth fell open, agape, as the two began pulling out, just to slam back in at the same time. The pace was different. While Irontomb’s thrusts were fast and deep, hitting every spot so quickly Mydei could hardly think straight, Khaslana’s thrusts were steady and harsh, dragging against every inch of his sensitive insides.

Those two cocks battered at two different sweet spots, causing Mydei to thrash in Irontomb’s tight hold that left dark bruises of his hips, loud gasps leaving his mouth as his cunt practically seized. Those hands held him up and then brought him back down, practically bouncing him, letting Mydei meet both his and Khaslana’s cocks with no effort.

Irontomb groaned, pulling his cock out of Mydei’s tight cunt only to thrust back in again without even a moment to waste.

“Mydei, Mydei, if you have a pussy now, does that mean you have a womb as well?” Phainon panted, leaning down to roughly jerk at his nipples. With desperation, he placed his cock in Mydei’s hands, who almost instinctively ran his fist up and down the length. Not one to be outdone, Neikos crawled over to his side, and Mydei did the same for him.”

He gasped, a sharp smile growing on his face. Inside of him, he felt the thrusts inside his pussy falter, only for a moment. He rutted his hands up those cocks a little faster.

“Why?” He asked, practically grinning under the weight of two cocks crushed deep inside him. “You wanna- wanna get me pregnant? Fill me up with your cum and knock me up?”

A sharp, rough thrust into a deep part of him from Irontomb had him laughing in both delight and pleasure.

“Yeah?” Mydei asked, grinding up against the base of both Khaslana and Irontomb’s cocks, choking in pleasure as hands tightened up around his waist. Mydei’s eyes glanced from Phainon’s, practically glowing a bright blue, to Irontomb’s, red and blazing. “You like that?”

“Do you?” Irontomb groaned, angling his cock to push deeper. Mydei’s cunt spasmed around him, and Irontomb laughed, grinding the bottom of his palm roughly against his sensitive clit. “You want me to breed you. You're nothing but a slut getting passed around, opening his holes for anyone with a big enough cock.”

“Ngh, not a slut,” Mydei moaned, his own words turned against him in an instant. He twisted his hands tightly around both Phainon’s and Neikos’ cocks, running his hands up the lengths intermittently. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to seize up when he felt Khaslana take his entire clit into his mouth, sucking it into his mouth and listening to the way Mydei gasped, practically falling apart. Khaslana pulled off with a self satisfied hum when he felt Mydei start to twitch, dragging him away from finishing once more.

“Don’t lie when your wet cunt is taking everything I give you and begging for more,” Irontomb admonished, pulling himself up. With deft hands, he reached down, pulling at Mydei’s hole and sliding a single finger in beside his cock, watching the way the juices almost seemed to flow out. “Hm. At least your bottom lips are more honest than your upper ones.”

Then, with a quick hand, Irontomb dragged his finger back out only to slap Mydei’s pussy hard enough slick flew, catching roughly on his clit. Mydei seized, his holes spasming and his back flying off the bed, a yelp tearing its way out of his lips. Irontomb smiled, truly delighted, as he felt his pussy lips throb helplessly around his cock.

With a desperate thrust, Irontomb lodged the rest of his cock deep inside of Mydei, pulling himself up to the hilt. Mydei choked, a silent scream on his lips as he tried to adjust to the new feeling, slowly pulling himself up and out only to drop Mydei back onto his cock, completely filled up in every way, as if every part of him was raw and used.

His hands twitched, falling off of the two cocks at his side, and he only briefly registered the feeling of light touches on his chest as Phainon began to suckle on his sensitive nipples.

No, not just Phainon, Neikos moved forward as well, looking up at him only briefly before he leaned down and engulfed the entirety of Mydei’s tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue delicately against the hidden bud.

“Fuck,” Mydei hissed, unable to feel any part of him that wasn’t being taken as Irontomb cradled his head against his chest.

Against his stomach, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bulge that seemed to be trying to tear its way out of his stomach with wide eyes. Phainon’s eyes flitted from his face to his abdomen, head cocking at the sight. He leaned forward, pressing both cocks even deeper inside of him, pushing down on the imprint and relishing in the way Mydei keened. He watched as red seemed to almost bounce off his skin, the light from Irontomb’s eyes illuminating the room in a sickly glow.

“See?” Irontomb said in satisfaction, “I knew you could take all of it. Soon enough, your body will open up for my cock like it’s second nature.”

Khaslana leaned back up, and with a pull at Mydei’s wet and sloppy cunt, he slammed his cock back inside the slickened hole, feeling the way it desperately tightened around him, as if trying to keep him there.

“How can you deny how needy you are when you’re like this?” Irontomb asked, chuckling at the way Mydei’s pussy spasmed at the words, watching the way it clenched open and shut. “Fuck, your cunt is so sloppy. It’s dragging me in like it never wants to let go.”

“Shut up,” Mydei begged, feeling himself clench up everyone at the feeling of another orgasm approaching him rapidly.

“Just ignore ‘em, baby, eyes on me,” Phainon crooned, cradling Mydei’s face in his hands.

“Don’t do that,” Irontomb grumbled, shoving into Mydei with another pointed thrust, as if to remind the two of them that he was still there.

“That’s code for ‘please show me love and affection, please pay attention to me,‘” Khaslana smiled meanly, pressing his burning lips against Mydei’s nape and making him shudder. “He doesn’t know how to ask for it, cut him some slack, m’kay? He’s just a baby.” 

”You’re one to talk,” Irontomb said, thrusting hard enough to make the bed shake. “Tell me, Khaslana, did you ever even tell the Mydeimos of the first cycle that you loved him? Did you ever get to feel him around yourself like this?”

“What the hell?” Mydei asked blearily, somehow more shocked at that than anything else that had happened this last week.

It was almost funny how quickly Khaslana's demeanour shifted. With violent hands, he grasped onto Irontomb’s neck, dragging him forward. Mydei groaned as those two cocks inside of him shifted, finding himself sandwiched between two chests, practically folded in half.

“Keep his name out of your fucking mouth,” Khaslana said with saccharine sweetness, eyes terribly cold for someone so full of heat it emanated off of him in waves. The two remained in a standstill, even as their cocks rubbed up against each other inside of Mydei. Then, with a rush, they both began thrusting at the exact same time.

“Oh okay,” Mydei said blankly as he was shoved backwards again, pressed roughly against Irontomb’s chest. He was pretty sure they had forgotten he was here, actually.

“… do you think they’re going to kill each other?” Neikos asked from where was gently cradling Mydei’s thigh. He was so soft-spoken and kind, Mydei could almost forget how many times he’d killed him.

Wait. What did he say?

“While they're inside of me?!” Mydei shrieked, losing his balance and falling face first into the sheets as the thrusts only amped up in speed and power.

“No, surely not.” Phainon insisted, and Mydei dragged his eyes forward to look at him. “No really, I think you’re just making them a little uh, heated.”

“That’s- ah, nice I guess,” Mydei moaned, shaking under the combined force as the two almost seemed to compete with each other. Then, he turned to stare at Khaslana. “Don’t kill each other while you’re fucking my ass, please. Do it later.”

“But it would be so easy,” Irontomb said darkly, still staring up at Khaslana, who glared down at him with the fire of a million blazing suns. “But fine, whatever you desire, dear Mydeimos. I’ll play nice.”

“We’ll settle this later,” Khaslana said angrily, moving to push into Mydei before Irontomb. Mydei whined, something high as he tossed his head to the side.

Irontomb laughed, the sound bursting out of his throat. “Why wait? We can settle this right here, right now.”

“No fighting,” Neikos instantly said, looking up to glare at the two of them. “You heard Mydei, didn’t you?”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Irontomb chuckled. He didn’t bother to still his hips before leaning over, resting his chest against the small of Mydei’s back. He licked a stripe up his neck and ghosted a breath against the lobe of his ear, making Mydei shudder under his ministrations.

“Isn’t it simple?” Irontomb smiled. “Whoever gets Mydei to cum first wins.”

“What.” Phainon said.

“Why is every part of you obsessed with competition?” Mydei asked Phainon breathlessly, ignoring the fact that he was just as competitive.

“You’re on,” Khaslana said, hands gripping onto Mydei’s waist a little tighter.

“What.” Phainon repeated. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Get him, Khaslana.”

The next few moments pass by in a blur. They started moving again, and Mydei moaned, loud and unbidden, trying to push away from the overstimulating feeling. He doesn’t think he had ever been more turned on in his eternal life. 

“It’s so deep,” he moaned, eyes rolling back into his head. Tears welled up in his eyes, trailing his cheeks, and Irontomb, as sadistic as he was, dragged Mydei’s hand backwards just to lap at them.

If anything, the slams into him only seemed to speed up as their orgasms approached, as if desperate to make sure he felt it. He was folded practically in half, and Khaslana leaned forward to grasp Mydei’s lips in a desperate kiss. Mydei’s lips didn’t move back, too dazed and fucked out to react, but Khaslana didn’t seem to mind too much, his tongue brushing against his lips in a mockery of gentleness.

“Not a cycle went by where I didn’t yearn for this,” he said, leaning back up, his hips slamming against Mydei’s own. “I have it now. I will never let it go again.”

A groan shattered itself against his chest. “ You mustn’t leave, Mydeimos, or my golden blood will leak from my soul in rivulets, and I am certain I will crumble these worlds into nothing but stardust and hatred.”

A desperate glance as skin slapped against skin wetly, the sounds leaking into the air in such a lewd way, the sound of his cock sliding into the wetness of Mydei’s cunt, his lips dragging against his own. “Please.”

“What are you still fighting for?” Mydei heard his voice say, barely heard under the sounds of their heat. “You have me, all of me. Accept it or perish, burn or be burned by me.”

A laugh, almost pitiful, lurched its way out of Phainon’s chest, although he wasn’t certain which one. Perhaps it had been all of them. “As you wish.”

Khaslana and Irontomb finished at almost the exact same time, desperately trying to push further than the other. Mydei finished only a couple moments after then, his pussy squirting desperately on their lengths while his cock drooled on his abdomen, finally worn out. Just like that, it was finally over, two cocks drawing out of him and leaving him boneless on the bed.

“…I can’t tell who won,” Phainon admitted. “You both finished at basically the same time.”

“I think Mydei won. He made you both come.” Neikos said, leaving to enter the bathroom. He came back with a small, wet towel, taking the time to gently clean around Mydei’s lips, gently caressing around any parts that may have been too sensitive. Normally, Mydei would get up, limp his way to the bathroom, and figure things out, but tonight? When all he can smell is heavy sex in the air, he can’t even conceptualize the concept of his legs, and he’s so boneless he can’t think straight? He’ll pass for tonight.

More towels, more hands gently cleaning him up. Mydei gently sighed into Phainon’s nape, content. After an hour or maybe a minute, he felt the bed creek under him, hands nestling around his waist.

“Is this … too much?” A voice whispered, lower. Neikos.

“We were just up his ass all night, and you’re asking if cuddling is too much? You’re a real piece of work.” Hands cradled tightly around his neck. Irontomb, then.

“Both of you need to stop talking right now. If he wakes up, I’ll throw you both into an asteroid field.” Oddly threatening. Khaslana.

“Goodnight!! Sleep tight!” Phainon. It was the last thought he had before sleep took him completely, drawing him under.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

When Mydei woke up, everything still ached, and the only people in his bed were himself and Phainon.

Unbidden, a strange sense of sadness welled up inside of him. He knew, logically, that they were all still here, just back to being aspects of Phainon once more, but that didn’t stop the feeling. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

”I think I might like you, Deliverer.” Mydei said plaintively. “I think you might like me too, actually.”

”Mydei…” Phainon whined. “You think? What more could I possibly do to make sure you know?”

“Say it,” Mydei said quietly.

Hands on his face, cradling his cheeks. A kiss was pressed against his nose, and Mydei flushed deeply. “I love you. I adore you completely and utterly. If an Aeon tried to threaten you I’d turn them into soup.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mydei said. He blinked, then leaned closer into his hold. “I love you too. I would also turn an Aeon into soup for you. I mean, I would try. I don’t know how far I’d get. I’m so sorry.”

”No, no, shhh, it’s okay. We can turn them into soup together,” Phainon said gently, and Mydei nodded contentedly.

He sighed, shifted, and felt Phainon lean against his chest. Out loud, he said, “so just to be clear, Irontomb definitely turned the memoria antidote into an aphrodisiac, right?”

“Oh yeah, no, one hundred percent,” Phainon said. “There’s no way the grove managed to mess up that badly. He totally did that shit.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mydei said, then promptly fell back asleep.

Or at least he tried to. He would’ve, if Phainon hadn’t suddenly been bent over between his legs, prying them open almost desperately.

“HKS. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mydei demanded weakly, swatting a hand away. He could not have morning sex right now.

He was about to say more, only to flinch back when Phainon let out a deafening wail, a shriek burning itself out of his throat.

“No!” He said, utterly distraught. He collapsed into Mydei’s arms, dragging himself upwards to sob pitifully. “It’s gone!”

“… what's gone?” Mydei said, far too tired for any of this. “Your other selves?”

“No, no, who cares about that?” Phainon said sadly, looking a little lightheaded. “Your pussy, Mydeimos. It’s gone.”

Mydei blinked. Once, then twice. Then he frowned.

“I cannot stand you.” He said. Then he pulled himself away and tried to go back to bed. Phainon groaned miserably, rolling himself around to spoon Mydei closely.

“I was so excited, too.” Phainon said, sniffles in his voice as he curled up against Mydei’s nape.

Then, suddenly, he perked up, sadness forgotten. He grinned eagerly, dragging a hand down towards his torso, where the sun tattoo had also disappeared. “Do you think you still have the womb? I’d take that.”

The punch he gave Phainon, deep into his upper torso and strong enough to knock him clean off the bed, was, in his honest opinion, more than deserved.