#phainon thinking of himself and 'the deliverer' as two separate people...

[princesscas-ao3]

thinking about how in phainon's mind, aglaea only cares for him because he's supposed to be the savior of amphoreus. and yet aglaea's dying action was to give the last pieces of herself to phainon, to protect him and keep him company. to be by his side as long as possible

[a-midnight-smoke]

Never meant to leave him here like this

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Mydei x Phainon (Honkai: Star Rail)

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content: angst, pining, established relatioship kinda but in separation, exploration of a character a bit

trigger warnings: i guess Mydei talks about ripping his heart out and stuff like that a bit

words: ~1 200

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Listen, this is just me being insane about homosexuals from a gacha game. If two years ago you would have told me I'd be playing a gacha game other than cookie run I would have shot you with a gun and then myself, but here we are.

I didn't even finish the 3.1 update, but I'm done with Mydei's part of the plot and I SCRAMBLED to write some angst about Phaidei. Also, everyone and their mother talked about this but THE BATH SCENE??????? GET THESE FAGGOTS OUT OF MY FACE!!!!!!

I'll probably write a second part where they're fucking but who knows with me.

This is pretty short, just had to get it off my brain before I exploded, ok bye.

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The goodbye was… painful. More so than Mydeimos could have imagined it would be, with the way his chest constricted and ached more than from any wound his immortal body had endured. While looking into those sad, bright eyes the colour of the sky, at the edge of Okhema, the last king of Kremnos wished his emotions were taken away the moment he gained divinity. He wished the bloodlust thrumming under his skin had taken over his mind, had let him throw himself into a senseless, neverending battle against the Black Tide, his body breaking and remolding itself every time he fell. But, he wasn't even granted that momentary respite every ‘death’ brought him before. His body was of the strongest steel and most of his foes did not require him to even stand up from his crimson throne. A flick of his gauntleted hand was enough to overwhelm a swarm of enemies before they even managed to come within fifty metres of him. He still fought with them in close combat on occasion, even if just to keep his physique in prime condition befitting the strongest warrior of this world.

During moments of peace, when even the Black Tide seemed to need a respite from the relentless assault, Mydeimos would wander through his kingdom, abandoned and in disarray. He would arrange the books, and stone slates back on their respective shelves, read through those he found curious and practice his Kremnoan that was average at best. He would clean up the debris littering every space in the fallen kingdom, his godly strength making the task almost menial even when faced with picking up entire fallen statues.

It brought him some semblance of peace, a normalcy that he hasn't been granted since he was casted into the Sea of Souls. 

And if he was busying himself with anything and everything at any possible moment that was his to know and for everybody else to not care about. He needed something to focus on lest his mind remind him of how terribly lonely he was. A single moment when his thoughts weren't occupied and the bright, azure eyes, always brimming with unbridled joy whenever they met his own golden ones would appear in his mind's eye, that grin that was equally infuriating and utterly beautiful on the Deliverer's handsome face.

Yet it was also always in moments where the bloodlust tinged his vision red that those same shining eyes brought him back to his senses, the memory of them and the hope and promise of seeing them again someday. In the next life, he hoped.

The ‘next life’ was something he found himself thinking about sometimes, despite his efforts of keeping his thoughts occupied. Fantasies, because they were nothing more than that, of what life could've been, if they lived in different times. Would've Mydeimos ascended the throne after killing his father, if Nikador hadn't gone mad? Would he have continued the conquests and the millenia old tradition of Castrum Kremnos, and not give his people a new path? Maybe he would've come across Aedes Elysiae, fought against its lone, snow-haired protector and ultimately took him in as a spoil of war? A gift, since it would be a shame for such an exquisite warrior to die in a far away village. Oh, the hatred Phainon would've felt for him, for destroying his homeland, for making him into a spectacle - a gladiator fighting for his life and glory in the arena, while Mydeimos watched from his throne up high. They would've clashed someday in the arena, and the King of Kremnos would have spared Phainon's life, in complete disregard of their traditions.

Over time, Phainon would have grown a reluctant respect for Mydeimos, and maybe, after years of winning every Kremnos Festival up until having to fight the king, they would've spend a night in the royal hot bath, after Mydeimos invited the gladiator to join him, a sign of respect and a protection all the same, not that Phainon would need it.

Mydeimos liked to think they would grow to love each other even then, he wanted to believe that their love entwined them in all their lives, as cheesy and corny as it sounded even to his own ears.

In a different fantasy, Mydeimos imagined he and Phainon would have grown up together, maybe in a world where they didn't have to worry about prophecies, the Black Tide and impending apocalypse. They were neighbours, in a village like Aedes Elysiae. From what Phainon told him under the shade of night, with his blue eyes full of sorrow, their legs tangled on the bed, it used to be idyllic and peaceful. It would’ve been nice to grow up in such a place, Mydeimos thought. Running through fields and laying under the golden sky. It seemed almost impossible to the immortal king, such a life was so removed from everything he grew up among, and yet it was Phainon’s reality even in this life. Loving him would’ve been so easy in that fantasy, he was certain it, at the very least, wouldn't make him want to rip his heart out and give it to the Deliverer.

‘Love’. That was a peculiar concept in and of itself. Gorgo loved her son, she gave her life fighting for his dignity. Mydeimos loved his mother too, he avenged her death. But that was a different kind of love. Phainon was infuriating him, he wasn't a Kremnoan yet his prowess rivalled those of the kings. He was stupidly handsome and charming and people swarmed to him where they feared and despised Mydeimos - despite the king’s attempts at softening his image. He wasn’t a brute, but Okhemans had a hard time believing it. Phainon didn’t. He saw past the rough exterior immediately, saw him playing with children, cooking for and spending time with his people and knew he was soft at heart. Phainon carved a space for himself inside Mydeimos’ chest and the king cherished his place there, as scary as it was, and as much as he now hurt, knowing the distance between them, and not knowing whether they’d have a chance to meet in this life again.

Truth be told, Mydeimos didn't even know how much time had passed since he returned to Castrum Kremnos as its new god. The sky was forever dark and the only thing marking the passage of time was the slow and arduous restoration of the moving city-state done by one lonely god-king. Sometimes, a fleeting thought passed through Mydeimos’ mind that said he should've let his fellow Kremnoans come with him back into their homeland, just so he could have someone to open his mouth to. But that thought always passed as quickly as it appeared. His people were better off forging their new path, and not giving themselves into the cycle of violence of their ancestors. That was his burden to bear. The last Kremnoan king, and the new god of Strife - Mydeimos, son of Gorgo. Destined to warding off the evil plaguing their world, all on his own.

…

“Mydei?” That would've been the case, if only Phainon wasn't a puppy desperate for his attention and a stubborn fool refusing to quit.