Chapter Text
Mydei never really understood what his father expected of him when he sent him away from Castrum Kremnos. The whole thing had unfolded too quickly, like a decision made long before anyone bothered to tell him.
“Your reputation is not great, Mydeimos,” King Eurypon had said, fingers steepled, voice infuriatingly calm. “People are wary of you. They think you’ll start a war the moment someone looks at you wrong. They see your temper…”, he hesitated, choosing the right words, “...and they do not like it.”
Mydei had barked a laugh at that, low and sharp.
“And Your Majesty thought kicking me out was the best idea?” he’d snickered, crossing his arms as if shielding himself from the sting beneath the joke.
Gorgo had tried to interject then, stepping between father and son like she always did, but even her patience couldn’t soften Eurypon’s decision. The king’s mind was sealed long before the conversation began.
So three days later, Mydei packed his things in a silence that settled like dust over everything he touched. He said his goodbyes to the few people who mattered —family, friends, the rare souls who didn’t flinch at his presence— and tried not to think too hard about the fact that this felt more like exile than guidance.
At dawn, he mounted his horse and left the capital behind, riding south towards Aedes Elysiae, a tiny village tucked at the very edge of Amphoreus. Rumor said it was peaceful.
Mydei wasn’t sure if that was supposed to comfort him or punish him, since he was not used to staying still. Stillness left too much room for thought, and he preferred his mind occupied with motion, strategy, anything but the echo of his own doubts.
While passing by the first stretch of open fields, Mydei loosened his grip on the reins, letting his shoulders ease for the first time since the argument. Golden grasses swayed in slow waves, brushing against one another with the soft hiss of wind over silk. The sky here was wider than it ever felt within the walls of the capital and, for a brief, quiet moment, he allowed himself to breathe.
He believed his father meant well with all of this. Eurypon wasn’t cruel; just impossibly stubborn, convinced that distance would temper his son’s rough edges. And maybe a village where nothing ever happened would smooth him into something less sharp.
But Mydei couldn’t pinpoint why he felt this strange tug in his chest —something between resentment and longing, as if he were leaving behind more than just stone walls and familiar faces; as if he were being pushed toward something he wasn’t ready to name.
The road stretched ahead, long and empty. With every step his horse took, the capital slipped farther from view, and the quiet of the countryside grew heavier, almost expectant.
He wondered what waited for him in Aedes Elysiae, but before he even got to form a thought, something slammed into the side of his horse with a dull thud.
Mydei swore, jerking the reins as the startled animal danced sideways. Instinct had him shifting his weight and reaching back for the long spear strapped to his saddle, only to find a man on the ground, tangled in a mess of fishing nets and wildflowers, blinking up at him like he was the one who had been ridden over.
“Titans above, sorry!” the stranger sputtered, pushing himself upright. His silver hair was messy, and his clothes were damp as though he’d crawled out of the riverside. “Didn’t think anyone actually used this road in the morning…”
Mydei cut him off with a scowl. “Didn’t think anyone would be lying in the middle of it.”
The stranger laughed as if nearly getting trampled was a charming inconvenience. “Wasn’t lying. I was… ambushed.”
“By what? A net you threw yourself into?” Mydei deadpanned.
“By gravity,” the man said proudly, as though it were an acceptable answer. He brushed dirt off his tunic and offered a grin that was far too bright for this hour of the morning. “Name’s Phainon.”
Mydei raised a brow but didn’t offer his own name. Instead, he looked the man up and down —the nets, the muddy boots, the confident stance that didn’t match the disaster he’d just witnessed.
“You always greet travelers by launching yourself at their horses?” Mydei asked.
“Only the interesting ones,” Phainon shot back, hands on his hips while smiling wildly. Mydei felt a flicker of something. Whether it was annoyance or curiosity, he couldn’t tell.
Phainon squinted at him, as though assessing him right back. “You’re headed south, right? Toward Aedes Elysiae?”
Mydei frowned. “And if I am?”
“Then I’m going the same way.” Phainon’s grin turned competitive, sharp around the edges. “Race you to the next bend?”
Mydei snorted. “On foot? You’d lose.”
“Maybe,” Phainon said with a grin, “but I still plan on giving you a chase.”
He said it with such confidence that Mydei felt his own competitive streak shift awake, stretching like a cat ready to pounce.
“Fine,” Mydei said. “Try to keep up.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Phainon said, and Mydei had the strange, unwelcome feeling the man wasn’t just talking about the road.
Phainon didn’t wait for Mydei to give a proper signal. The moment the words left Mydei’s mouth, Phainon spun on his heel and shot off down the dirt path with the chaotic enthusiasm of someone who absolutely did not think this through.
Mydei blinked.
“…He’s actually running.”
For a heartbeat, he just stared at the absurd sight of the man sprinting ahead —nets still half-draped over one shoulder, hair bouncing, laughing like the whole world was an inside joke only he understood.
Then something in Mydei’s chest snapped.
Competitive instinct. Territory instinct. Pure spite instinct. Hard to tell.
With an exasperated exhale, he nudged his horse forward into an easy trot, not enough to barrel past Phainon, but enough to loom behind him, close enough that Phainon would feel it.
Phainon glanced back mid-run, eyes bright, breathless but still grinning.
“Oh, come on! That’s cheating!”
“You challenged someone on a horse,” Mydei pointed out dryly. “Sounds like a you problem.”
Phainon laughed a little breathless. “Then get off and run!”
Mydei raised a brow. “You really think you could outrun me?”
“No,” Phainon admitted, then added, “But I’d like to see you try.”
HKS.
Mydei swung off the saddle in one smooth motion and landed on the dirt with a quiet thud. Phainon’s eyes widened, surprise flickering into delight.
“Oh,” Phainon said, backing up a step as Mydei rolled his shoulders. “You’re serious.”
“You wanted a race,” Mydei said, tying his horse’s reins to a fencepost. “You’re getting a race.”
Phainon’s grin returned full force, bright enough to rival the morning sun. “All right then. First to the bend.”
Mydei stood beside him. “You sure you can handle losing?”
Phainon shot him a sideways look, breathing hard but smiling like he’d been waiting for someone to challenge him like this for a very long time.
“Lose? To you? Please. You sure have a conspicuous physique, but I’m betting you don’t have the speed to reach me.”
Mydei huffed a quiet laugh —more reaction than he intended to show.
They crouched slightly, the air between them tightening in anticipation.
“Ready?” Phainon asked.
Mydei smirked. “Try not to trip this time.”
“That was one time!”
Mydei didn’t have time to laugh, because Phainon bolted again. “You little—!” Mydei shot forward after him.
Their feet pounded the dirt path, gravel kicking up behind them. Phainon was fast but Mydei’s strides were longer, trained. They fell into a rhythm neither of them intended: Phainon darting ahead with reckless bursts of speed, Mydei closing the distance with predatory calm.
Halfway to the bend, Phainon called over his shoulder, breathless, “You really are terrifying!”
“And you talk too much,” Mydei shot back, gaining on him.
“Talking is a strategy!”
“For what? Losing faster?”
“For throwing you off!”
“It’s not working.”
“It is kind of working!”
“Shut up and run”, Mydei warned, a smile almost making it to his face.
They were so close enough now that Mydei could hear Phainon’s breath and under the rising sun, with wildflowers brushing their legs and the road stretching wide before them, Mydei realized he was enjoying this, which was kind of absurd.
Mydei closed the last bit of distance between them, matching Phainon’s pace stride for stride. Their arms brushed once, twice —each time accidental, followed by Phainon’s breathless, incredulous laugh.
“You…,” Phainon panted, “you are not allowed to be this fast! You’re cheating at running!”
“How?” Mydei asked, deadpan. “By moving my legs?”
“YES!”
Mydei rolled his eyes so hard he nearly stumbled.
The bend was close now, curving around a cluster of tall cypresses, sunlight splintering between them. Phainon dug deep, pushing himself into one last reckless burst of speed. Mydei matched it effortlessly, legs burning, blood pounding, lungs full of clean morning air that tasted almost sweet.
They hit the bend at the exact same moment. A pair of shadows converging, two sets of feet skidding in the dirt. Both of them ended up laughing, breathless but triumphant.
Phainon stumbled sideways into a patch of grass, hands on his knees as he gasped for air.
Mydei bent forward, palms braced on his thighs, chest rising and falling in heavy pulls. He wasn’t used to running for fun. He wasn’t used to laughing while he did it, either.
Phainon lifted his head, hair sticking to his forehead, grin wide and wild.
“Okay,” he wheezed. “Okay. That was… I haven’t run like that since… well, ever.”
Mydei swallowed a grin he didn’t mean to show. “You kept up,” he admitted.
Phainon blinked, stunned. Then he lit up like someone had just handed him a crown. “You saying that feels like winning.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“It was absolutely a compliment.”
Mydei grunted, looking away.
They stood there a moment, catching their breaths, morning light settling soft and golden around them. Mydei felt… lighter. A little dizzy, but not from the run.
Phainon wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, still smiling. “So… Mysterious Horse Guy.”
Mydei stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then tell me your name.”
“No.”
Phainon blinked. “No?”
“That’s what I said.”
Phainon threw his hands into the air. “How am I supposed to keep calling you something? You’re clearly not going to answer to ‘Hey you.’”
“Try me.”
Phainon groaned loudly, flopping back into the grass. “Titans above, what kind of person refuses to share their name after a race like that?”
“The kind who didn’t ask for company.”
“C’mon,” Phainon scoffed. “If you didn’t want company, you wouldn’t have gotten off your horse.”
Mydei opened his mouth and closed it again. HKS.
Phainon sat up, brushing grass off his elbows. “Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll guess.”
“You won’t.”
“Oh? Watch me.” Phainon tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… You look like a—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“I know it would’ve been wrong.”
“Okay, but let me try at least one!”
Mydei crossed his arms. “No.”
“I’m not leaving this bend until you tell me your name.”
“Enjoy living here, then.”
Phainon gaped at him for a full two seconds and then burst out laughing. “You’re impossible.”
Mydei shrugged. “And you’re persistent.”
“That’s basically the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s not?”
Mydei felt a laugh tug at his chest again. He exhaled instead, steadying himself.
Phainon leaned toward him, grin softening but eyes still mischievous. “Come on, you already know mine. It’s only fair.”
Mydei hesitated. He thought of his father, of Gorgo, of guards and councilmen and the whispering citizens who recoiled at his shadow.
He thought of Phainon’s carefree and unguarded laughter.
He didn’t want that to change.
“…I’ll tell you someday,” he said finally.
Phainon blinked slowly, and all of a sudden a smile spread across his face —not teasing, but gentle. “Someday, huh?”
Mydei didn’t meet his eyes. “If you stop asking.”
“Not a chance.”
Mydei groaned. Phainon beamed.
They stood there, side by side, the quiet morning settling around them like a warm cloak. Mydei’s horse neighed impatiently from behind the bend, and Phainon perked up.
“Come on, Mystery Guy,” he said, already heading back toward the road. “We’ve got a village to reach.”
“Do not call me that.”
However, Mydei still followed him, slow but steady, wondering how a complete stranger had managed to wedge himself so firmly into his day.
Phainon glanced back once, walking backward with no sense of self-preservation. “You’ll tell me eventually,” he said, winking.
Mydei felt heat rise behind his ribs.
“We’ll see,” he muttered.
They reached the road again, the bend now behind them, the run lingering in their lungs and legs like a shared secret neither quite knew how to name.
Phainon led the way, humming some uneven tune as he walked. Mydei followed with his horse at his side, watching the strange man ahead of him kick stones, tug leaves off bushes, and almost trip twice while doing both. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward. It was… oddly companionable.
“Where exactly are we going?” Mydei finally asked.
Phainon pointed ahead without looking back. “My place.”
Mydei frowned. “Your…?”
He grinned over his shoulder. “Try not to be impressed.”
“I’m not.”
“You will be.”
Mydei snorted softly but said nothing.
They reached the farmhouse just as the sun climbed higher, golden light spilling across the stone walls and tangled vines. The sheep wandered lazily nearby, unbothered by their arrival. Phainon stopped at the edge of the porch, chest heaving, grin still wild and a little triumphant.
“Welcome,” he said, spreading his arms as though presenting a castle rather than a modest home. “To the incredible, slightly crooked, entirely glorious Phainon’s farm.”
Mydei’s eyes swept over it all: the sun-bleached wood, the curling vines, the uneven stones of the porch, the smell of warm earth and something sweet he couldn’t name. For a moment, he just… stood there.
It wasn’t the capital. There were no polished floors, no grand halls, no wary courtiers whispering behind fans. There was only light, air, and the quiet hum of life.
Phainon nudged him gently. “Come on. I mean it, you can stay. My place is your place for as long as you like.”
Mydei’s chest tightened in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. He opened his mouth to refuse but found himself swallowed by the calm warmth of the space. The farmhouse didn’t demand anything of him. It didn’t judge. It didn’t expect him to perform, to command, to be anyone but himself.
“I… alright,” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual. “Just for a while.”
Phainon’s grin softened, almost shy now, and he stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.
Mydei let himself step forward, his boots scuffing softly against the porch. Inside, the farmhouse smelled of woodsmoke, dried herbs, and something warm that made his chest loosen despite himself. Sunlight pooled on the floor in lazy rectangles. He realized, with a small, unspoken surprise, that his always-tensed shoulders felt lighter.
He glanced at Phainon, who was already bustling around as if it was normal for people to just show up at his home, and couldn’t help a tiny, reluctant smile.
He wasn’t used to this: to the quiet, the comfort…, the feeling that maybe, for a moment, he could just exist. And somehow, Phainon had made it feel effortless.
For the first time since leaving the capital, Mydei didn’t feel like he was running from something.