#Paths to Deliverance

[dreamsofconsciousnessmetal]

Exilium Noctis | Hate | Kratornas | Margantha | Wrath of Logarius | Paths to Deliverance | Amalekim | Abigail Williams | Gaahls WYRD | Helheim | ...and Oceans

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Music On This Mixtape:

Exilium Noctis: "God's Demise" taken from the album "Pactum Diaboli"

Hate: "Iphigenia" taken from the album "Bellum Regiis"

Kratornas: "Spit on God" taken from the album "Devoured by Damnation"

Margantha: "Blood Moon Sacrifice" taken from the album "Blood Moon Sacrifice"

Wrath of Logarius: "Of the Void" taken from the album "Crown of Mortis"

Paths to Deliverance: "Solitude" taken from the album "Ten"

Amalekim: "Chant I: Ra'al Zorem" taken from the album "Shir Hashirim"

Abigail Williams: "Nonexistence" taken from the album "A Void Within Existence"

Gaahls WYRD: "Time and Timeless Timeline" taken from the album "Braiding The Stories"

Helheim: "Fylgla" taken from the album "HrabnaR / Ad vesa"

...and Oceans: "Prophetical Mercury Implement" taken from the album "The Regeneration Itinerary"

[ano-pane-jiri]

Hynek's little smile. He just wants Žižka to love him be proud

[asvidema]

sunrise

[serevarin]

falling in love.

[burgravineofznojmo]

Black and enduring seperation I share equally with you. Why weep? Give me your hand instead -- promise me you will come again. You and I are like high mountains and we can't move closer. Just send me a word at midnight sometime through the stars.

Anna Akhmatova, "In a Dream"

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

I don't get the impression Henry feels a lot of religious guilt, not from KCD1 at least. Catholicism is ever present, as it would be in 1403 Bohemia, but Henry's general approach appears more, "God may punish me when the time comes but I'm not going to punish myself overly much now." You can play him rigidly devout, I suppose, but the game rewards Henry for taking a groundedly human approach to most things.

[too-many-rooks]

Thinking about if it was Istvan who interrupted Runt before he killed Henry in Skalitz rather than Robard and Theresa.

Thinking about Istvan seeing a useful asset to manipulate Radzig with - and also seeing the potential of another boy he’s just orphaned, who he can shape into a soldier, into a dog.

Thinking about Henry being nursed back to health in Vranik, in the rooms at the top of the hill that Istvan and Erik share; being too out of it to really understand where he is but Istvan worming his way into moments of consciousness and telling him he’s safe and caring for him and starting to cement that bond.

Waking up and realising he’s in some kind of… mercenary camp? But still too much of the niave boy from Skalitz to really understand what they’re doing there; Istvan is being so kind to him, taking care of him, he can’t be a bad person, right?

And Henry sees the surprising tenderness in Erik and Istvan’s interactions, and thinking that even if they’re associated with bandits, two people who care about each other so much can’t truly be evil, right? And perhaps yearning for that kind of attention and affection as well, and perhaps his relationship with Erik and Istvan slowly turning sexual as he’s inducted (/groomed) into their dynamic.

Henry watching Erik in the sparring ring, and Istvan asking, wouldn’t he like to be like him? Wouldn’t he like to be strong? Wouldn’t he like to be in control, and not let anyone dominate him ever again?

And maybe Istvan does still have Sir Radzig’s sword, but he tells Henry this is a man’s sword, that he needs to earn it, to prove himself to Istvan that he knows how to use it, but till then being granted the ‘honour’ of maintaining it for Istvan, serving him like a good little page.

Erik, who’s almost certainly incredibly jealous of the attention Henry’s getting from Istvan, being commanded to train him, to toughen him up. Turning into something of a big brother figure, understanding in many ways what Henry’s going through, knowing that Istvan’s reforging can be hard, but earnestly thinking he’ll be so much better for it.

And all the while Istvan is worming his way under Henry’s skin, sinking his claws into his mind, slowly poisoning him against Radzig, who failed his people, who got his parents killed, who serves a useless king. And of course, having the knowledge about Radzig being Henry’s real father. And perhaps he twists that revelation to make it even more devastating - he tells Henry that Radzig forced himself on his mother, and then threatened Martin to keep quiet about it and force him to raise his bastard.

Meanwhile Radzig, having lost everything, his son disappearing from Talmberg on a suicidal mission to return to Skalitz and not being seen again, is menaced by bandits he can never seem to get the upper hand on, and one day, is confronted by a captured bandit his garrison couldn’t bring themselves to kill, because they recognise the blacksmith’s lad - even when his face is twisted and snarling in hatred, spitting venom at Radzig and promising to kill him for all he’s done, for what he did to his mother, for denying his existence all these years.

(And then Radzig having to de-programme his brainwashed, quite mentally damaged son, but not really having anywhere safe to keep him so taking him back to Rattay in chains and asking for yet more hospitality from Hanush and Capon…)

[nonbinaryeye]

I love interpretation of Henry as righteous knight, of course I do, but his story feels much more satisfying if he falls into "whatever it takes" territory.

Because from the beginning of the first game he sets himself up on a quest for revenge and he never exactly tries to hide that he has no noble purpose in it and that his reasons are fully personal.

He can be consumed by his rage and make all the hard decision, like burning down Semin, torturing people, burning down Maleshov. And, yes, he can be still helpful and kind towards people in need, he can still be loyal and dutiful when it comes to protecting Hans and fulfilling their quest. But he can also slowly internalise that war indeed is a nasty business and to beat them you have to play their game.

And so when von Aulitz ask Henry "How can you know you didn't kill someone's mother or father" it hits you much harder especially if Henry agreed to burn Maleshov down. Because they might be on different sides of the conflict but he has acted exactly like von Aulitz. To be able get his revenge on a monster who destroyed his home, he had to become exactly like him to some extent.

He could have chose to let go, to live a life his parents wished for him. But he chose revenge. And no matter how you play Henry, it changes him. But especially by burning down Maleshov you can make his story to be a full circle.

[witcheringways]

I’m taking a permanent break from Witchering until TW4 drops in part because I feel burned out with Witcher editing and also because I’ve created a substantial archive already and would like to focus on other projects. I will be mostly working on Kingdom Come Deliverance II edits and posting on my @bohemiaboi alt account.

Thank you to everyone who has supported and shared on both tumblr and instagram ; it really does mean a lot to be a part of this amazing community of players, modders and content creators. Feel free to follow on my other blog; everyone is welcome!

Good luck on the path, Witchers! Audentes Fortuna Iuvat! Much love,

{ Witcheringways }

[ano-pane-jiri]

I think this explains their dynamic so well.

Anyway, I said I would write a bit about how I see their dynamic, so:

Žižka is absolutely oblivious. He's all about THE TASK. No time for bullshit.

Dry Devil kinda tries to keep up the appearance that it's Katherine he's interested in - he kinda tries to flirt with her, but doesn't give a fuck when she blatantly shuts him down because he doesn't really care about her romantically. It just feels more "acceptable" to be bantering her and annoying her to make it look like he's interested in her - but really, he's just jealous because he sees her as Žižka's perfect potential partner.

I think Katherine knows. It probably started as a joke because the Devil kept trying to (badly) flirt with her, but she knew he's just doing it ... for the show, for the lads around etc. And she probably finds it hilarious that Dry Devil - who always says the darnest shit, doesn't care, doesn't seem to consider anything as serious or untouchable etc. - just can't be honest about his Feelings. She probably told him "If you wanna fuck Žižka, you should tell him!". Maybe he told her the same, haha.

They both love Jan in their own ways, and, IMHO, they both see each other as Žižka's perfect potential partner. It's the "I know him so well" scenario (idk if you know the musical Chess, but basically, this song is the moment when The Wife and The Mistress meet, and they realize they actually have something in common because they both love The Russian Chess Player; while ultimately neither of them can make him happy or be happy with him). So they are stuck in this weird situation where they both want Žižka, but also don't feel worthy/good enough/wanted (in this way)/brave etc. to make the move.

And Žižka is too focused on THE TASK to realize and solve this is any way.

I tried to get this into the Dry Devil/Žižka fic as well, hence why I said it's unsure whether it is a happy end or not - maybe the Devil's devilish plan is to make Žižka doubt/hate himself so much that he would eventually consider himself too bad/rotten for Katherine, and only good for someone... like Dry Devil. Who knows.

[dreadbornesaint]

tag dump - verses

[opuskeeper]

◓ can cas and phainon both give mydei a pokemon pls

"For Lord Mydei, either Pyroar or Flareon would suit you best." The mere thought of him holding a Flareon made her softly giggle.

"I would say either Entei or Gigalith." His original plan was to suggest something completely different but why be cruel.

pokemon prompt. || @finalism

[harmonysanreads]

Calling phainon "my man" possessively either make him blushing like a school girl or die on the spot idk it's pretty up there with "wife guy" and "breedable"

Both? Both!

This in juxtaposition with Phainon's ‘hero’ status, thus a protector belonging to the whole world, by connotation. It is no secret that you are his, it cannot be kept such even if he wished or never outwardly expresses as. Being loved by a star means to be bathed in its light and if the star wishes to hide you away in its shadow, it'll still burn bright. Phainon has to allow himself to shine, because the people of Amphoreus wish so heartily for a new dawn.

Phainon has learned to not mind. For they inspire him to keep pushing forward against destiny. But at the same time, this fact does not trigger anything particularly special in his heart of hearts. If anything, he must be careful and constantly evaluate himself to not lose sight of why he fights in the first place.

A paragon should not be greedy, should not stray from the path of selflessness — yet, his heart always aches at the thought of parting from you, or worse, having to let you part from him. As the wretched prophecy foretells.

But he's done so much, he's lost so much and he's willed himself to continue sacrificing in service to that prophecy. Just one more moment, let him be in your presence for just another moment, allow him to dream the absence of that impending fate for a little longer and he swears, he swears he won't be selfish again. Just another moment will not hurt, right?

When you proclaim so firmly, my man — it makes something deep in Phainon tingle, it scratches his brain just right. You don't know, but he feels seen, he feels heard. It opens a new window of realization to him, that you've also been battling the same inner war as him. While he masked that internal push and pull with reason and desire with smiles and laughs, you observed it in silence. You contemplated the same dilemma of selfishness as him. For the first time in a long time, he did not feel lonely.

You remain none the wiser to this ureka moment, as he deals with a sudden overwhelming urge to engulf you in his embrace and run away, kiss you senseless. But he can't do that, lest he should risk making you angry. So, the Web of Okhema was filled with gossip later that day, of their Deliverer melting and malfunctioning in utter fluster in response to being, allegedly, ‘claimed’.

[aventurineswife]

🤔 do u have a thought about shrau with amphoreus ?

If I'm not wrong, they just believe in titan as their god right? What about shrau amphoreus with reader as a creator?

Like just Imagine it, when they knew about reader as a creator or aeon reader and how they will react

OKAY OKAY, I MAY NOT BE GOOD AT THIS BUT HEAR ME OUT!

If Amphoreus is a world that reveres Titans as gods, then suddenly discovering the Reader (aka you) as a Creator/Aeon would shake their entire belief system to its core. The Chrysos Heirs, warriors devoted to slaying corrupted Titans and recovering their Coreflames, would have to face the terrifying realization that the entity they’ve been unknowingly serving might be above the very gods they worship.

The Chrysos Heirs—Mydei, Phainon, Castorice—are devoted to prophecy and divine will. If they discovered that the true weaver of fate, the one who oversees their struggles and triumphs, is actually you, their entire worldview would fracture.

Mydei, the Undying Warrior, might react with reverence, but also conflict.

"The Coreflame trials, the prophecy, the Titans... were they mere threads in your tapestry? Have I only been playing my part in a story you have already written?"

He would feel both honored and trapped—knowing that his fate was not his own but also that his suffering had purpose.

Phainon, the Deliverer, might be the first to fully embrace you.

"If you are the one who spins the threads of destiny, then everything we have done… it has been for you, hasn’t it?"

He’d see it as a blessing, a sign that their struggles were leading toward something far greater. He might fully devote himself to you, no longer just as a warrior, but as a disciple.

Castorice, the Daughter of the River Styx, would have an eerie calm about it.

"Death and fate have always danced hand in hand. If you are the one who weaves, then I have been treading upon your strings all my life."

She might not even be surprised—only resigned, knowing that she had always been walking the path you had set.

The people of Amphoreus, especially those who still worship Titans as gods, would be terrified. If they learn that their world is merely a fragment of your design, it could split the faction into two:

Those who believe the Titans are still divine, and you are merely another force in the cosmos.

Those who believe you are the true god—the one above all, the being who even Titans obey.

Some might fall into despair, realizing that their gods are no more than pieces of a larger game board, and that your will can rewrite their fate at any moment. Others might become fanatical, believing that serving you is the only true path.

The Coreflames, remnants of the Titans’ divine power, might now take on an entirely new meaning��if the Titans were once creations under your will, then does that mean their power also stems from you?

If Mydei and Phainon failed the Coreflame Trial, was it because you willed it?

Phainon, who vanished after the trial, might see it as a test from you—a call to prove himself.

Mydei, bound by honor and sacrifice, might struggle with whether his suffering was truly his own choice… or merely an inevitable step in the story you wrote.

The most horrifying realization for them? That every battle, every struggle, every death was something you already knew would happen.

If Mydei has died a thousand times, then you—the Aeon of Fate—must have allowed it each time.

"You… knew? Every strike, every wound, every death I suffered—you saw them all?"

The idea that they were never free, that their victories and failures were written into existence, could be devastating.

Some would see you as salvation rather than as a distant, cosmic force. They’d offer the Coreflames to you as divine tribute, seeing them not as remnants of fallen Titans, but as pieces of a world you once shaped.

The most devout warriors might seek to serve you personally, casting aside their oaths to the Titans and the prophecy.

Mydei, should he fully accept your will, might become your sword of fate, carrying out your judgment across Amphoreus.

Phainon, ever the perfectionist, might strive to prove himself worthy in your eyes, seeking to become your chosen deliverer.

Castorice, attuned to the whispers of death, might become your priestess, ensuring that those who fall in battle meet their end as fate intended.

Once the truth of your existence reaches Amphoreus, the world would never be the same. The Titans' worshippers, the Chrysos Heirs, the Coreflame Trials—everything would shift under the weight of the realization that you have always been watching.

Some will fight for you.

Some will fear you.

Some will desperately seek your favor.

But no matter how they react, one truth remains: they were never beyond your reach.

[hekateanwitchcraft]

Full Moon devotional offerings for Hekate 🌕

On the Dikhomenia, after I give offerings to Selene outdoors under the moonlight, I also leave offerings for Hekate at Her shrine. These offerings usually consist of libations, incense, cakes or fruit, and beeswax candles anointed in fragrant oils to symbolize Her torches and the guiding light of the Moon. On the Full Moon I honor Hekate at Her most heavenly, as Hekate Ourania, as Hekate Soteira, the goddess honored by Zeus, the most high. I ask for blessings, guidance, and deliverance from strife, calling on Her shining light to guide me down the best path.

In this way, She is given honors every lunar month in Her different aspects, as protector of the home on the Noumenia, as the goddess of the restless dead and as pyschopomp on the Deipnon, and as a goddess of the heavens on the Dikhomenia. Thus, as a goddess of boundaries, liminality, transitions, and the in-between, She is honored at the end, the beginning, and in the middle of each lunar month.

[ayuthedemon]

For another eternity

not proof read we die like the Amphoreus cast!, sexual tension but no smut, fluffy and angsty, hurt/comfort but not really??? ~5200 words fem!priestress!reader x Phainon (+Stelle mentioned ヽ(^□^｡)ノ)

Phainon is head over heels for you however you seem reluctend to indulge him at times. Your visions of the chrysos heir's future and your duties as a priestress hinder you to commit to Phainon and make you question the valdity of your feelings until you lose it all.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊＊•̩̩͙✩•

Far on the outskirts of Okhema is a tiny temple; the sun blesses it and the golden treads in an act of diplomacy have sworn to protect it too as part of the city of the heroes.  In it women in white gowns scurry around trying to get every task of the day done while the new young head priestess walks slowly by the white haired knight through the gardens, adored with grape vines and peach trees. “You come here ever so often - every 24 days to be exact - in an attempt to gain the insight about the future from my visions. You should know by now that this is futile, deliverer.” “It’s worth the try, no? Someday I might catch you in a good enough mood where you willingly spill all your secrets.” Phainon laughs, showering you in warmth that if it wasn’t for shade you’d point your finger to the sun above. 

“Either way I’m happy to dismiss my duties for a chat. You should start bothering me every 12 days atleast. The temple would be much safer in the presence of a chrysos heir too.” you joke back sitting on the stone bench overgrown with moos with a view on the tiny pond filled with ducks and their ducklings - it’s the middle of spring after all where life starts to blossom, a new beginning to the cold end before it. “See, my presence only has benefits!” The heir joins by your side and tries to sneak glances when you push back your veil from your face. Like a young pup he can barely mask his excitement, curious to know every corner of the world but naive would be the wrong descriptor. His pointy finger drums on his tigh anxiously, his eyebrows are frowned together and his tongue pushes against the side of his cheek - he wants to say something. “It’s unlike you to hold back your words. What’s on your mind Phainon?”  

“Oh. -Just the same old. It’s - well, are you withholding the truth because something bad will happen?” Sometimes it’s best to stay silent and drum your finger but instead you gently stop his fidgeting with your own gloved hands and opening your lips and inevitably strumming the tune of the forbidden song even as you try to hush them down, push them deeper in the prison of your lungs; “The prophecy does mention that the path of the chrysos heirs is filled with death and causualties, no? Bad things will happen no matter.”

“But there is something else, right? The prophecy is just so vague and you must have found something. something maybe worse than death even.” It’s like watching a big stone rolling down to hit a village - how could you let him hurt so much, maybe not knowing the truth is worse than the truth itself.

“You should stop. There is reason behind my decision to withhold it from even the rest of the heirs much less you.” Fingers squeeze around his before they retreat completely leaving them cold to the springbreeze. Leaves shake under Aquila's breath and you haven’t succeed in calming the blazing flame of the sun’s son. 

“It’s that bad? Does it mean the Flame-Chase will be fruitless in the end.” Blue eyes desperately search for reassurance in your own but you can’t - you can’t lie neither can you point him to the clear path your world strides on - and so you breath out the air in your lungs, your tongue moving on acord - a reflexive action one would fall under when a familiar melody, so entwined and etched into the brain, would play that it forced you to sing; “No. O Kephale no, but nova era’s face might differ from the mask we put on it.”

Have you been put under a spell? Have the golden treads found a way to squeeze out your heart and poison your mind? Quickly you stand up pained betrayal painted across your features. You are disappointed in yourself; How did you slip in a dance that grew so familiar over the years, one that is burned into your muscle memory? stupid. careless. “I’ve said too much. Excus me.” 

A hand stops you with a strong grasp around your wrist - of course the heir wouldn’t let you flee when he just cracked you. “Please don’t leave. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have pushed on but please don’t make our time together end so abruptly.” You turn back to face him again, those pleading  blue eyes have seemingly become your weakspot however you can’t seem to calm down. He takes your other hand hanging by the side of your hip, clapsing his hand around yours in a secure ball, thumbs massaging over the back of your hands, traveling up and down from your wrist to your fingertips. “I enjoy the presence of my savior beyond my mission to feed my curiosity.”

“Phainon of  Aedes Elysiae, I trust you know that the head priestess is off limits even to one of the heirs. Beside I thought I told you on multiable occasions to stop calling me your savior I was merely fullfilling my then duties as a maiden of the holy temple by patching you up that day.” Hot pink color adores his cheeks but he doesn’t stop touching you and you don’t fight against it when he pushes under your gloves, slowly peeling them off you, tracing shapes into your skin. 

“I know. But won’t you give me a chance before I inevitably lose myself to the role of a demigod? Or will you only be allowed to have me once I reach this status? Maybe a look in the future will assure you that I’ll surely succeed in this milestone set by the propehcy?” Phainon gulps down a big lump in his throat but his determination doesn’t falter, his longing overwhelms you and you don’t fully register your actions when you reach out to cup his face in your now bare palms - you’ll relish in this skin to skin feeling till your death bed. “We have time. If you truly long for my love it’ll stay with you even as a demigod, I’ll stay with you. Don’t rush dear delieverer, the worldbeares gaze is set on us two.” A gentle chaste kiss presses to his forehead, white lashes flutter close not daring to watch it end; deep down he knows he'll lose you to the prophecy or your stubbornness. 

“I don’t want to wait.” His hand finds the way to yours again, once more holding you in place. “You’ll live.” you chant, slowly slipping away. Even in the absence of physicality you know that mentally you’ll never be able to leave him, escape him because you have grown to miss his ways every night that followed your meetings in the gardens, his voice, his warmth, those eyes that never knew how to look in any other direction than yours. Titans you hope the rest of the maidens are always occupied enough not to observe the charming knight following you to all your favorite spots near the temple. 

“Tomorrow moring, once the first sunshine greets Okhema, wait for me by the gates. I always wanted to try the baths and what better opportunity than to enjoy the hot waters after a meeting with Aglea mhm?” Your form comes to sit again and you playfully hit him with your elbow as he collects your gloves from the ground, tucking them away into his coat. A sad smile is plastered across  his face - the kind that feels off, the kind that his face isn't sculpted with the purpose to do. "Yeah. I'll be waiting for you there.”

Pinky fingers brush against each other, ghost touches and unspoken promises linger in the air. “How about I escort you directly from the temple?” He grins wide like a cat, excited at his own idea, proud he came up with it. 

“ Oh I wouldn't dare to ask, you must be a busy person after all.” You try to throw the bait, hoping for more enthusiasm to come.

“Not all! I’d be honored to!” his fist connects with his chest and he somehow looks more like a noble knight than he did before. 

“ Why, if you insist, then I shall meet you here first thing in the morning. Goodbye, Phainon of  Aedes Elysiae until then.” You make your way back giggling girlishly - the kind that would be unfitting for a woman of your status and age. The man watches on, hexed by you and addicted to your sweet laughter.

.

.

As it has been for an eternity the sunny skies stay clear with only speeks of fluffy clouds ; it makes you want to thank the sky Titan in a prayer. Today you leave your chambers dressed more casual: a chiton cloth is wrapped over your head to your arm, silver jewellery compliments your simple choice, a bag hanging from the shoulder carrying your light toga for the baths. It was a hassel dressing searching left and right, down and up for your gloves only to remember that he still had them  - both the bareness and the reason for it leaves you a little bashful. How unbecoming of you. 

Amidst the many pillars the white haired hero is waiting, leaning his back against one of them,  practicing a nonchalant way to greet you. “Shall we get going?” Phainon flinches, surprised at your voice echoing through the still empty halls. “Y-yes! Of course!” 

He sticks out his arm for you to grab and you don't hesitate to indulge - it's just a polite gesture after all. On the way to the holy city you start to chatter lightheartedly; reminiscing your past together as two students of the Grove of Epiphany. “You really fought bravely for my attention.” “I might have made a fool of myself but it was worth it in the end, no? “ Yes, yes it was; nowadays you can't imagine a world without his presence in your life, appearing routinely to squeeze out the truth within the prophecy out of you but ending up spending the day casually like two friends. Maybe there is a possibility you failed to consider that could lead to your happy ending. 

Phainon is left by himself for at least an hour; the meeting with Aglea is successful yet leaves you in a sour mood. As usual he's waiting for you by doors already, noticing the little frown you wore. “Is everything okay? Should I go in and talk to Aglea for you? Bet if I vouch for you some more, she'll be convinced in no time.”

“No, that won't be necessary. I guess I just got a little sad with the matter at hand.” Phainons head tilts to the side as if he is a confused puppy and you observe as his mimic mirrors yours into an upset pouty face. “What was your discussion about then if you don't mind? “

“I, We, the Temple will have to move to the city. The black tide is too grave of a danger and not even the golden threads can guarantee our safety anymore. It's just such a shame to leave a place that is considered by so many souls as ‘home’, it's my home, always been. How am I supposed to break the news? This has always been a possibility yet this-“ a big hand comes down your shoulder; a quick flinch then reality frees you of the dark spots inside your mind. When did you start sweating? Shaking? And where has your breath gone? “Easy there. We'll find a way. Together. But today is all about your leisure so let's cast the worry for tomorrow and take that bath you wanted. It certainly always helps me unwind my nerves. " 

It's funny how the tables between you two keep turning; one second you are his comfort, the next second you're in need of his soothing words and small touches. “O-okay. You're right.” Fingers snake up your shoulder to find hold onto his solid form, in hopes that you could share some of his strength. “Together.” you repeat, you pray so that the weight of your responsibility seems lighter, even if just for the moment. “Together.” Phainon affirms squeezing your hand, guiding you slowly to the private bath area exclusively for the chrysos heirs. 

In between you slip away to change since you weren't as shameless as your companion to undress right in the middle of the room, in front of you. Eventually you reapproach his figure, deep into the hot waters already, back relaxed against the edge of the pool. Slowly you sit yourself down at the edge next to him, only allowing your legs to dip in. You let a surprised gasp when a head of white hair leans against the plush of your thigh followed by a satisfied sigh from his side. “How come that you never allow yourself to fully dive in even with the little things?”

Your fingers itch and twitch to run through his hair and scratch the back of his nape but you don't because you know better not to indulge, otherwise you might spiral down further. However you let him continue pressing his cheeks against your bare skin. “I tend to believe that it makes them so much better when I finally allow myself to.” He nuzzels his head so that his nose hits the side of your thigh, eyes closed in ecstasy. 

“But, for me to do that I'll need you to let me, my lord.” With two gentle taps at his head he lifts himself off you, looking up at you with those blue eyes like a cat that is offended that you have hushed it off your lap to do chores. Yet it doesn't just stop with an innocent glare, now you feel muscular arms wrap around you pushing you down into the water by force causing a big splash around you. 

“Phainon!” You exclaim going from clawing at him for dear life to slapping him across his chest. He laughs, satisfied with going through with his impulsive idea. “Well I just thought; why just let you when I can out right help you? “ His eyebrows wiggle funnily and his touch still lingers around your waist. “You're impossible.”

He doesn't move, you're trapped within the marine blue as he stares back intensely at you. “You're really pushing it today, aren't you?” 

“A little, yes. Can we hug properly at least?” his point finger taps in a rhythm against your waist, his eyes sparkling in anticipation as he switches left to right from his feet causing the water to move with him. “I guess, if it doesn't go beyond a hug.” With a swift move of your arm you pull him against you, pressed chest to chest, one of your hands guides his head against your shoulder and the other squeezed the upper back muscle. Phaninon needs a few seconds to steady himself from the surprise; he probably should've seen it coming but there was something devine and unreal about this moment - a moment in which you so rarely actively touched him back without him needing to balance the fine line you have set. Gently yet firmly his arms wrap around your form, his nose inhales the flowery scent on your neck which consequently earns a small yelp from you at the hot breath on the sensitive spot of skin. The two of you sway with each other,  neither wanting to let go, to let this moment fade into the passage of the past. 

Just when Phainon’s fingers turn wrinkly from under the water do you stop and decide to spend the rest of the day differently. You feel his gaze running up and down your form, hungrily admiring your naked legs just before you would disappear to change back into your casual clothing and you aren't much better either trying to memorize every hard earned muscle of his upper body. If someone demanded you to sculpt his statue you'd have no problem deciphering the placements of the many battle scars without the need of the model. 

Right at the entrance to the bath house Phainon is already waiting for you, conversing with an oddly clothed silver haired woman. Something unpleasant churns in your stomach when you watch the pair laugh with each other. Are you jealous? You shouldn't be after all Phainon isn't yours nor are you his - you don't owe each other anything of the sorts. Besides, it's unfair the way you get all possessive whilst being the one pushing him away from you. You should be glad Phainon is taking interest in others. 

To avoid being caught standing awkwardly and staring, you approach, trying to force on a little polite smile. “Ah! There you are, let me introduce you to one of the Travelers from afar. This is Stelle. “

She takes your hand gently pressing it against her lips as if you're a noble lady. “The galactic baseballer at your disposal miss.” Cheeks flushed you sheepishly  answer with your own name letting the trailblazer hold your hand in hers before remarking smugly; “Phainon wasn't exaggerating at all when he described how amazing you are. Maybe I'd even go as far as to say that he didn't do you justice.” You just might faint, burying yourself deep in the ground. Seriously you don't know what exactly has your heart racing more; that the handsome traveler who has become this world's hero seemingly overnight is showing interest in you or that the white haired heir is talking about you to others in such manners. 

“Oh my, you flatter me, Stelle.” Quickly you fan your face to get rid of the heat accumulating on your face making Stelle's grin grow prouder. “Well, a mission is waiting! Have fun you two! -but not too much fun. “ They shot finger guns at you two before sprinting off somewhere. 

“She really is something.” You watch her sprint with a finger to your lip, amused by the travelers strange antics. “Sure.” It comes out more monotone than Phainon would've liked to, a little salty and bitter even making you physically recoil at this unfamiliar tone of voice. Could it be that Phainon was being jealous too? It shouldn't surprise you since he is plainly obvious and direct about his liking towards you yet it stirs something in your guts nonetheless. 

Instead of consoling him with words or teasing him you decide to hook your arm around his, smiling assuringly;”Why don't you lead the way? Amphoreus must have more to offer than just baths I assume.” Though you doubt anything would beat the view of Phainon bathing.

“Yes! Of course!” He beams, warmth coursing through the atmosphere as if he were the sun and Titans your poor heart wasn't getting a break. Once more the moral hammer slams down your desires and the two of you continue on a stroll through the holy city. Every now and then your companion would point something out (mostly places he and Mydei have had one of their competitions, describing each fight in great detail. Though you doubt he was as often victorious against the crown prince as he claims. ) 

Like the gentleman he is Phainon escorts you back all the way but not until you two make a stop at one of spots claimed by the black tide on the outskirts to gaze upon the starry skies together. You try to rub the exhaustion out of your eyes smiling to yourself. “Thank you for the day. However I don't think you should become a city guide professionally any time soon. You're horrible.”

“You're so mean. I would do amazing.” Immediately you shot him a raised eyebrow watching his pouty face turn more thoughtful over time, really thinking about your current exchange. “T-though it wouldn't be a job I would look into in the first place anyway, I guess.”  and you start laughing at that. 

Lazily you let yourself fall into the comfort of the grass, petting the soil beneath in small motions, humming content to the song of the night. “Will I-” he plops down next to you, eyes on him, his hands over his chest, thumbs playing nervously. “Will I ever get to hold you the way I’ve always wanted?”

Is he trying to rip your heart out? Break its fragile porcelain shell and leave it to pieces? Ripping muscle tissues ring in your ears - something is torn, something is hurt. Is this path of pain really worth it to upkeep your sworn faith? To fight your inescapable fear? Something that seems so distant and abstract compared to the directness of the admiration towards the man you'd possibly even find loopholes to give into. The Titans have forsaken you, sending you the man who is prophesied to end up lonely and longing for more into your life. Tears stream down your face, a total opposite to the expression worn before. But why? Are you sad? Frustrated? The day has been so great, no? 

“Oh, Phainon. I don't know what to do anymore. What I want. What I should do. I just don't know. I really hope someday you will be able to.” 

. 

. 

Truth always finds a way, catching up to you as if you were prey, the stone on the clear path that makes you trip and fall flat on your face. It's embarrassing and you haven't even lied, only withheld it. Maybe silence wasn't gold after all. You stand on in the crowd of people still and frozen as Anaxagoras points his finger at you exposing that you could confirm his thesis that the world was a never ending cycle of reincarnations. However again you withhold the details only ever agreeing or disagreeing; the people don't need to know that their supposed savior has failed approximately 40 cycles before. They already know that your fortune isn't the future but your memories of the past that allow your foretelling, which is bad enough. 

Don't look at him. For the twentieth time you chew at the flesh of your lips, this time too hard making blood drip down your chin. You gulp down the metallic taste with the ball of salvia accumulating down your throat leaving your mouth dry. And yet nonetheless you find yourself looking at him anyway; he isn't looking back at you at all, seemingly finding the rest of his surroundings much more interesting than his professor's grand performance. 

Your silence is pardoned in the great scheme of democratic justice with a slap on the wrist compared to Anaxa's death sentence yet the process stays humaliting, degrading even, as you are forced to give up your title of a priestess in front of everyone to be rid of your sins. By then your head is buzzing and ears are ringing whilst you bite off the loose skin around your fingernails, dizzy from the situation, angry that all along you have always denied yourself the temptation to uphold some greater moral values only to be robbed in every direction. 

Titans, where are you even supposed to stay the night? You can't just go back to the place assigned to your sisters of the holy temple that you no longer are a part of. Your body shakes, the view from the garden of life gets blurrier by seconds and it can't be helped as you start to hysterically cry into your palms. Everything is lost; your title stripped, the friendly temple maidens now a distant fairytale, your dignity trampled on and him…

Oh, Phainon. It will take awhile till you’ll win him back. The yelps are muffled by your hands closing around your mouth tightly, back hunched to quell the ache in your belly. 

A big hand comes down your shoulder causing you to jump in surprise; “Oh I'm sorry I must have been crying so loud. I won't disturb any further.” The same voice you have grown to associate with the sunny days at the pond calls out your name in a quiet manner you'd use to soothe a startled animal. You recognize the blur of white hair in your vision and everything comes down crashing all over again, repeating small apologies in his direction. 

He pushes you against his chest wrapping his arms around you. “Hey, I’m not mad… maybe a little upset still sure -but I think you had enough unfair punishment for today, no?” He says with a sad smile, his fingers comb through your hair in great comfort and his grip around you doesn't flatter. The heir allows himself to bury his nose at the crown of your hair, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I already asked Lady Aglea to prepare a room for you. You'll be just fine.” He pushes the small of your back, guiding you inside, his larger statue shielding you from the eyes of onlookers. Still you were sniffling, snot running down your nose and your eyes puffy and red from the crying. Every now and then you get a pitiful pat or rub on your shoulder. 

When he opens the door to your presumingly new temporary home you can't help but grab at his sleeve like a child looking for attention. “I know I'm not exactly in the position to ask but- can you stay a little longer?” You lightly tap away the liquids on your face with the bell sleeve of your free hand, trying to regain some dignity. 

“I wasn't planning on leaving.” black leather boots invite themselves in, letting the action speak for itself. Slowly not to cause more noise than you had done before you close the entrance door admiring both the nice interior and the man sitting on the bedding. “Thank you.” You stay there back pressed against the door, putting distance between you two. 

He stands up again taking a step closer but keeping the space you have created as it was - he wouldn't dare to overstep, waiting till you decided to cross the line you drew. His mouth opens but other than a surprised noise doesn't come to be as you dramatically half limp throw yourself into his arms. For a second you flinch at how hesitant Phainon seemed, hands only respectfully supporting enough weight that the both of you wouldn't come crashing down the ground but it lacked what the embrace during the baths had. And then finally as if he had read your mind he pulls you closer, holding onto you as if you could fade to dust any second, in need of being held together. But how could you judge his neediness when you both are so deprived of each other. 

A kiss to your forehead causes you to push out a content hum out your throath. Phainon tests it out again; kissing the tip of your nose making you chuckle quietly. Your finger hooks around the black choker on his neck pulling him down so you could peck his lips. 

“Do it again.” He commands as you pull back, only for you to slot your lips against his for the second time. And then a third, a forth until you urgently tap his chest. Phainon continues to look excited however there is a mixture of concern lying under. “What is it?” 

“I-I think we need to talk first. I want to make it right this time - tell you everything. There are some things that were left unspoken during the trial that you should probably know. It'd be only fair.” Nervously you twist whatever fabric you can grab from under Phainons armour in your fists, eye contact becoming increasingly hard to hold. 

“It's fine really. I mean whatever happened to ‘there is a reason behind my decision to withhold’? Besides, I think you had a point; some stones are better left unturned.” Phainon kneads the skin around your hips, tilting his head to find your eyes somehow. 

“You'll be okay knowing since Anaxa’s findings haven't scared you off much either.”

“But what if this will?” He's right, what if THIS will? You'd probably freak out if someone told you that you have lived through every existing cycle before as you do now and the woman you love is molded out of the memories of his past lover(s). It's weird, too confusing. Something you might read in a romance novel and sigh over dreamily however this isn't a book but the reality in which you two live. 

“Then let's keep it silent for now. Maybe the two of us need time processing the big bite of today's events before diving into the deep waters.” You're determined to one day spill it all out tell him how scared you are to lose him and your life to the prophecy, to be reshaped again with the world's memories and doomed to live for a tragic love story between you and the deliverer. From the first moment deep down you always knew there was no avoiding fate, death is as certain as the yearning in your heart for the loneliest man in the universe in every lifetime you are given. 

“Yes. Let's do that.” Phainon agrees playing with your hair around his finger, melting you away with his charming smile like a flame to a wax candle. 

You shake away whatever spell he had casted on you, pulling him into another kiss; much more intense, much longer than your little stolen pecks from before. It was his time to sigh pleased into your lips. When you pull away you don't even get to catch enough oxygen before the heir tilts your head at your nape slightly gripping into your hair to bestow you with an open mouth kiss, licking at your underlip for permission. 

Of course you give him whatever he wished, it'd be cruel not to at the moment. It's strangely intoxicating as the tips of your tongues press against each other and your lips move to an unheard rhythm, a rhythm no matter if it turned louder would be overwritten by the thuds of your heart slipping out your chest. 

Again you pull away after what both feels like eternity and mere milliseconds at the same time, slightly biting down at Phainons lips to bask in his small pants. “This won't be the last time we do this right?” You almost laugh at how desperate he sounds with those big round puppy eyes of his. “Titans I hope not. Someday you'll be the end of me but until then I'll let you hold me however you desire.”

He is the end of you and funnily your beginning too. You're a star, molded into perfection by his hands and you wonder what woman you'll be in the next life, if you'll fight tooth and nail against life to mayhaps someday reach your happily everafter or whether you'll give up and embrace the tragedy to live for the fleeting moments with your star crossed lover. For now you don't know, which leaves you to shoot wild guesses whilst putting your head on your favorite sturdy shoulders, breathing in the scent of mint and firewood. 

Today, this version of yourself selfishly decides that the tragic ending to your title and the breath of your lungs is a worthy price for love, for the man who'll feel the consequences the most. Like you must have done a million times before, you speak to make it reality, to make it the truth that can be traced back and its impact be felt from the outside too; “I love you.” you crave into stone, burn into his heart and tie the final knots of fate for another eternity.