All the Stars we Swore to Keep

by AroAce__Arsonist

Summary:

I have returned with yet another dragon rider AU, only this time, it’s HTTYD.
Can you tell what my favorite thing was in primary school?
Anyways
Phaidei has been consuming the majority of my thoughts since the last quest. Hoyo let them be happy please
This story has already been fully written and will be updated twice a week.

Notes:

Hello hello, it is I
Write the fanfics you want to read, and so I bring you a HTTYD AU of the pairing that has taken over all of my fyp's
Enjoy

Chapter 1: The Seaside Village

The sea crashed against the rocks, waves reflecting the setting sun with an almost blinding light. Seagulls soared high above, circling the water in search of a last meal.

Only to be swept up into a pair of jaws and crushed.

Phainon watched as Kephale ate his catch from where he was seated on one of the cliffs. The wind was sharp and cold, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The Stormcutter flapped his mismatched wings, the sun casting a warm glow over the yellow and deep blue membranes. He landed next to Phainon with a thud, shaking off whatever droplets of salty water had clung to his scales, before moving to lay down next to his rider.

“Think we can ever make it past the horizon?” he asked the dragon, reaching out to pet the plated snout. Kephale gave a noise that was somewhere between a grumble and a coo before licking the hand at his nose. Phainon couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping the spit off on the grass beneath him. “Yeah. Maybe someday.”

“What are you planning?”

Phainon didn’t need to turn his head to know who that voice belonged to. He only sighed softly as Kephale got up and walked over to Cyrene, nudging her with his head as a greeting before going to fly with Oronyx. Mem stayed with her, comfortable on Cyrene’s shoulder.

“I was just thinking about going out there,” Phainon pointed at where the sun kissed the horizon. The sky had shifted, rosy hues mixing with darker blues as the night grew closer. “Explore the world beyond Aedis Elysiae.”

“Hmm,” Cyrene sat herself down next to him, her legs hanging over the edge of the cliff. The Terrible Terror on her shoulder climbed down into her lap to get petted. “You should, you know. You still have your entire life in front of you. Go do something with it while it’s not too late, you don’t have to be stuck here.”

“You say that as if we live in a prison,” Phainon laughed. “I don’t feel trapped here. I just.. want to see what else is out there. Beyond our home. But I won’t be upset if I never get to go there. Aedis Elysiae is our home, and I will never grow tired of it.”

Cyrene smiled, and Phainon couldn’t make out what was going on in her head. Mem turned around and hopped over her legs to sit on Phainon’s thigh, pressing her little paws against his arm in a demand for attention. He gently scratched behind her curled horns until she settled down again.

“Well, whatever you do,” Cyrene finally spoke after a few long moments. She turned her head to Phainon, her smile growing happier. “Know that I will always be there to support you.”

Phainon beamed at her. He should’ve expected that from her, though. Cyrene had always been by his side, a constant reassuring presence even when Phainon went ahead and did something stupid. She was his voice of reason.

“Thank you, Cyrene,” he said. “You could always join me if you want.”

“I’ll have to think about that,” Cyrene nodded and moved to get up. Mem blinked open her eyes and quickly flew up to reclaim her spot on the girl’s shoulder. “We should get back to the village, though. It’s getting late, and they were making dinner when I went looking for you.”

Phainon followed after her, patting the grass from his clothes and looking up to see where Kephale and Oronyx were flying. They seemed to notice their riders’ intent, and returned to the cliff to let them climb onto their backs.

“Race you back to the docks?” Phainon grinned at Cyrene, grabbing onto the reins of Kephale’s saddle. Cyrene laughed, taking hold of the handles on her Death Song’s leather seat.

“You bet!” the words hadn’t even fully left her mouth before Oronyx shot up into the sky. Phainon didn’t waste a second before following after her with Kephale, the wind in his eyes and in the direction of home.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

The evening air was pleasantly warm against his skin as he wandered through the wheat fields of home. Phainon had eaten his fill and decided to take a walk, leaving the bonfire and his people to their meals. Kephale had stayed behind as well, content to rest on the side.

Reaching the open spot in the field, Phainon smiled to himself at the sight of the battered training dummy he and Cyrene had made a few weeks ago, when Phainon had obliterated the last one. He picked up the wooden sword laying in the dirt, giving the fake weapon a few spins before striking at the faux enemy. While he never had to use the sword techniques he’d been teaching himself, it would do good to practice.

Besides, if he ever planned on exploring the world, Phainon would need to be able to defend himself, even without Kephale’s help.

He stayed there for a while, hitting the dummy with various amateur moves. The sun had long since dipped under the horizon, but its warmth hadn’t left yet, and it made for a nice summer’s evening with the addition of the crickets singing into the night.

The pinpricks of claws on his back had Phainon pause, turning his head to the small dragon climbing up using his clothes. He chuckled and gave Mem a scratch under her chin.

 

“Come to join me, little friend?” he smiled, but it faded when Mem seemed more anxious than comfortable. Frowning, Phainon turned to the direction she had come from.

Only to see flames rising high above the huts.

His grip on the sword tightened when he ran back. Mem had let go and flew ahead, likely to find Cyrene again. The wood would not hold out against a real weapon, but Phainon had nothing else, no other choice.

The smoke was thick, making his eyes tear up and closing his throat with a burning sting. Every breath hurt, and he swiveled around to see where his people were.

“Cyrene!” he called out, only to be met with the roaring of dragons and the yelling of people. He ran towards the nearest noise.

The door to the hut was already kicked open, barely hanging from the hinges. Inside, a stranger had stabbed their sword through another’s stomach, blood spilling to the floor. Phainon recognized her scream immediately.

“Livia!” Phainon charged at the stranger, hitting them with the wooden sword. Livia was dropped to the floor with a thud, her head hitting the floor hard as the invader turned around. Phainon took a step back, glancing from them to Livia and back.

Their clothes weren’t familiar to him. Black with orange details, and a crest he didn’t recognize. Their face was hidden behind a mask. None of it mattered though, not when the stranger lifted his sword to attack Phainon as well. He tried blocking it, but the wood splintered when the iron blade struck it. Letting out a frustrated yell, Phainon balled his fists and managed to land a few hits on the invader. While he managed to his them a few times, punching their nose hard enough to knock their head back, his upper hand was only short-lived. Grabbed by the throat, the stranger rammed Phainon back against the wall of Livia’s house, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs. He wheezed, clawing at the offender’s arm, but his blunt nails did nothing to the thick clothing they wore. He saw Livia’s terrified face, still lying limp on the floor, blood seeping out of the wound from her stomach.

Phainon had never felt so homicidal.

And yet he couldn’t yell, couldn’t scream for help he wasn’t sure would come. Oxygen had left him, and the smoke burned down his airway with every inhale he tried to make. He would die and not even be able to see his murderer’s face. He would die knowing he couldn’t protect his people.

The ceiling caved in, wood crashing down accompanied with Kephale’s roar. The invader was knocked aside by his tail, and Phainon coughed on his first breath. But there was no time to rest. He quickly got up and rushed over to Livia, cradling her paling form in his arm as he ran out of the house.

The person who attacked him was only the start. Countless people broke into the homes of his people, coming out with bloody swords. Their dragons were held down by nets and traps, wailing for help and snapping at their captors. Phainon’s knees gave out, and he dropped to the floor, Livia still bleeding in his arms.

“Livia? Livia, can you hear me?” he asked, shaking his friend’s body. But her eyes were already empty, lifeless. Her blood soaked through her clothes, seeping into Phainon’s, dripping onto the dirt. “Livia, wake up! Livia!!”

His cries attracted the attackers, and three of them made their way over. Phainon only looked up in time when Kephale returned, standing in between him and the invaders. The dragon roared, before sending a spiral of fire their way. Once those were dealt with, he turned back to Phainon and shook his head.

“No.. no, we can’t leave them here!” Phainon protested, still holding the corpse that was once his friend. “We have to protect them!”

But the more he looked around, the more hopeless it seemed. Fire ate away at the huts. His people lay dead or dying on the ground. Their dragons were trapped, and those who weren’t had fled or tried in vain to help. The smoke obscured his vision, made him almost choke.

Kephale wasn’t having any of it, though. The dragon was often smarter in the heat of the moment, seeming to know what would be the best course of action. He was so different in that regard, compared to Phainon.

And so, having made his decision, the Stormcutter opened both pairs of his wings and flew up. His talons curled around Phainon’s frozen form, and his rider found himself carried up into the sky. He watched Livia’s body shrink the further he was taken up.

“No, no no! Kephale, go back! We can’t leave!” he cried, struggling against the hold. The only noise in response was a loud snarl, but Kephale didn’t change his course. The smoke cleared the more altitude they gained, and Phainon could finally breathe again.

“We have to go back..” he whispered, voice hoarse from yelling. Finally, he let his tears fall down to the ocean. He’d stopped struggling by then, paralyzed in the claws of Kephale.

A small movement caught his attention. Phainon blinked to refocus his eyes, watching the pink dot get closer. His eyes widened.

“Kephale, wait!” he ordered. While the large dragon didn’t stop, he did slow down enough for the Terrible Terror to catch up. Phainon reached out his arms, taking Mem into his arms and holding her close to his chest. “It’s alright, it’s alright.. I got you..”

Phainon looked back at the flames engulfing his home, growing smaller by the second. The smoke rose high into the sky, and he could see a few dragons who’d made it out fly off to safety. They were too far for him to recognize any of them, to see who managed to escape the bloodbath.

But Kephale refused to turn back, and so Phainon could only watch helplessly as the town he grew up in disappeared into the distance.

Chapter 2: Of Flesh and Blood

Notes:

I'll be updating the post schedule of this fic from one a week to two a week, only because I'm impatient as hell
So this fic will be updated every Wednesday and Sunday

The scent of blood hung thick in the air, sticking to the roof of his mouth and tasting of metal. There was a clicking noise followed by the sound of someone falling to the ground with a grunt. Mydei didn’t have to look back; he knew that person would be dead before he even tried to get up.

The gargled cry behind him was clear proof of that.

He tore through the soldiers like they were just a simple hindrance to him. Mere obstacles on his path to reach his actual target. Mydei might’ve shown them some shred of mercy if it weren’t for the man they took commands from.

The soldier fell to the blood-soaked earth and Mydei didn’t even spare a glance at the red stains on his gauntlets. Not when the man he had been searching for stood right there, mere steps away.

“Eurypon,” he growled, voice low and clear in threat. The chief didn’t look impressed as the distance between them shrank.

“Mydeimos,” his father greeted him. “I thought you had died. Have you finally grown a backbone?”

His voice grated Mydei’s ears. He wanted to tear out the man’s vocal cords and feed them to the titanwing Triple Stryke still fighting his father’s forces behind him.

“You left me behind in the forest,” Mydei accused, stepping closer still. “You abandoned me to die. All because of a dream a healer had said would come true.”

𝘉𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘳.

“You sent out your men when you heard of me,” he continued, flexing his fingers, the claws on his gauntlets gleaming in the evening light.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘥.

“You killed my companions,” a swipe at the chief’s head. A kick to his stomach. “My friends.”

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦.

“And now I have come for 𝘺𝘰𝘶,” he kicked Eurypon down to the ground, placing a foot on his chest to keep him down.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.

“Are you proud, father?” he asked, leaning down to pick up the blade that had fallen from the man’s hand. He straightened his back, the metal 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 of the weapon echoing as he aimed it at Eurypon’s throat.

“The king of war, who so prided himself in his strong family,” the blade inched closer to skin. “Laid to die by his own flesh and blood. How ironic.”

But Eurypon only smiled.

“You’ve grown into a fine warrior,” he coughed. “Worthy of taking over in my stead. Worthy of the Kremnoan name.”

Mydei’s expression hardened, brows furrowing. He sliced the sword against his father’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down into the dirt.

“I don’t want your legacy,” was the last thing said. With a quick move, he pierced the beating heart, ribs breaking with a loud crunch. There was no air left in Eurypon’s lungs to utter any final words. The sword was left there, pinning the chief to the ground as Mydei walked away.

He found his dragon again when he was just finished pulling one of his tails out from the chest of a soldier. Mydei idly rested his hand on the beast’s snout as he watched the life bleed out of the nameless man, eyes growing glassy within seconds. He leaned down to close them.

When the stars appeared in the inky veil of the night sky, Mydei turned back to the one companion who had never left his side. Climbing onto Nikador’s back, he took to the sky to hover over the land that was a battle field a mere hour earlier. There were too many bodies to bury on his own, but even if they worked under the despicable rat that was his father, they didn’t ask for this. Mydei would give them a burial.

And so with a tap of his foot to Nikador’s side, the corpses went up in flames.

Mydei stayed behind until the flames dimmed to embers, until the flesh was gone and only bone fragments remained. Only his father had been left untouched, the moonlight reflecting off the blade that pierced his chest.

“Come on,” Mydei grumbled, leaning slightly to the side. “We’re done here.”

Nikador gave a huff and turned, flapping his wings to leave the ruined village behind.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Rain pelted down on his face, soaking him to the bone in seconds. His clothes and hair stuck to his skin, the droplets running down and into his eyes. He wiped them for the millionth time.

They’d been flying for a long time now. The storm had only started up a few hours into their journey, but it had worsened quickly, much to both of their dismay.

Nikador had voiced his displeasure multiple times already, all of which Mydei had agreed with. He didn’t like the water any more than his dragon did, but there was no land in sight, and so they had to keep going. The lightning hadn’t gotten too close yet, but neither of them wanted to stay long enough to find out if it would channel to a dragon other than a Skrill.

Mydei was pulled out of his own mind when Nikador made a noise. Narrowing his eyes, he could just barely make out the silhouette of trees. They wasted no time in losing altitude to land, Nikador stumbling onto the wet grass as they slid to a stop. Mydei swung his leg over the dragon’s back and dropped onto the forest floor.

“I guess we’ll be staying here for the night,” he mumbled to himself, looking up at the dark sky. The rain was still falling heavily, but most of it was held back by the branches reaching out like claws. The leaves rustled above, almost louder than the thunder.

Walking over to one of the smaller trees, Mydei sat down with his back against the bark. Nikador curled up around both him and the tree, tails coiled protectively around his rider. Mydei patted his head as a silent show of gratitude, before he allowed sleep to pull his eyes closed.

He wasn’t certain how long he’d slept, but it might have been hours. The clouds were still obscuring the sky but they were a lighter gray than those he went to sleep under. Rain was still falling but in lesser quantities, more like a drizzle than a downpour. Mydei opened his eyes and looked around, but the back of his neck still prickled. He knew that feeling all too well.

He was being watched.

Nikador must’ve sensed it too. Slowly, he pushed himself up with his claws, shaking the rain off of him. He growled, head turning in an attempt to see who or what was lurking between the trees. Mydei followed his lead, standing and adjusting the gauntlets on his hands.

The first arrow was caught, and the second evaded. Nikador let out a roar and charged in the direction they were shot from, branches snapping when he moved through them. Mydei watched his dragon disappear between the trees, but he was given no moment to rest.

Turning quickly, he grabbed hold of the wrist holding a sword. He knocked his attacker back, overwhelming them with strikes of his own. It wasn’t much of a challenge to work them to the ground, Mydei was used to fighting much stronger opponents.

A snapping twig betrayed the other person sneaking up on him, and Mydei just barely managed to block the attack with his gauntlet. The clang of metal echoed through the forest, and so did the strikes that followed. Mydei was too caught up fighting the aggressors to notice Nikador hadn’t returned yet.

Not until a deafening roar pierced the air.

Fending off the two attackers and sending them sprawling to the ground, Mydei rushed to make his way to Nikador. He’d never heard the dragon call out like that, not so loud and seemingly afraid.

Nikador had never been 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥.

Mydei could see a few arrows sticking out of the dragon’s hide. They’d been shot with precision, aimed between the plated armor that should’ve blocked them. These hunters knew what they were doing, and they didn’t seem shocked to see Mydei arrive.

“You must be its rider,” one of them, presumably their leader, spoke up. He stepped between Nikador and Mydei, looking much too at ease. “I’m impressed. Not everyone can tame a Triple Stryke, much less a titanwing.”

But Mydei had no time for idle conversation. “Let him go.”

“I’m afraid I won’t do that,” the hunter shook his head. “You see, I have a quota to reach. And your dragon will help me reach it.”

“Over my dead body,” Mydei took a step closer, shoulders tense and ready to attack. To his frustration, the hunter didn’t move an inch.

“Maybe not that,” he shrugged. “But it can be over your dragon’s.”

Mydei didn’t get a moment to figure out what that meant, not when one of the hunter’s subordinates took their sword and aimed it near Nikador’s throat. The dragon growled, lifting his head but dropping it not a second later, like it was too heavy. Mydei’s confusion must’ve shown on his face.

“Dragonroot arrows,” the hunter explained simply. “One is usually enough, but this beast was far from usual. It has a killing intent that is exactly what we’re looking for.”

“What can he do for you, other than tear your men to shreds?” Mydei asked. He couldn’t get closer, not with Nikador’s life on the line.

“It will be useful,” the hunter merely hummed, turning his back to Mydei. He had half the mind to stay still, remembering the blade from which Nikador’s life hung. “In the arena.”

So, they captured dragons for fighting. Mydei couldn’t say he hadn’t heard of it.

“He won’t do anything for you without me,” he said, unable to do anything but let his arms hang by his sides. “He’ll sooner bite your head off.”

The hunter let out a thoughtful hum, calmly walking back to the trapped dragon. He stared down into Nikador’s eyes, watching the fatigue from the dragonroot arrows take hold.

“I suppose that would be an issue,” he mused, glancing back at Mydei. “Considering my men haven’t returned, I’m assuming you can fight?”

Mydei’s jaw ticked. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he did answer that question, but it was the best option if he wanted to stay with Nikador. “.. Yes.”

“Good,” the hunter nodded curtly, facing his own men again. “Load it up! We’re going back. And give our.. guest, a place to rest. He might need to preserve his strength.”

The look Mydei gave him would’ve incinerated him on the spot if it could. Instead, he followed the hunters back to their ship, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into this time.

Chapter 3: Strategy

Notes:

Honestly didn't know what to call this chapter so excuse the lame title

I know I don't reply to all of them but I really do see and appreciate all your comments, your support really motivates me to write more!

The wheat lined the corners of his vision, swaying gently with the wind. The sky spread above in a large blanket of light blue, sparse white clouds dotting the vast surface. He’d been there way before the sun had shown itself at the horizon, needing time alone to lose himself in his thoughts.

Rustling reached his ears, alerting him of the approaching presence. He already had a feeling of who it was before she appeared in his view.

“Hey there Snowy,” Tribbie smiled down at him. “Agy told me to come and get you. She has something important to discuss.”

Phainon pushed himself to sit upright, turning to look properly at her. He didn’t need to ask how Aglaea knew where he was; her Fireworms were everywhere, always keeping tabs on whoever lived in the large town of Okhema.

It had been a few years since the invasion of Aedis Elysiae. Kephale had dropped Phainon and Mem only when his wings couldn’t carry him anymore, and they’d been found by a few strange dragon riders. They were taken into their home, treated like they had always belonged there. The people had been friendly and welcoming, even when Phainon had been distant towards them in the beginning.

Okhema itself was very different from Aedis Elysiae. It was bigger, and settled near the sea of a large island. A second village was built on the higher levels of the island, balanced on the cliffs, named Dawncloud. The villages were on good terms, though the people of Dawncloud tended to keep more to themselves. And then there were the wheat fields that reminded Phainon so painfully of his past. They were his favorite place on the entire island.

It was nice. But it would never be his home, not truly. Not without Cyrene to be there with him.

“I’m coming,” he got up, patting the bits of wheat and dirt from his pants. Tribbie had already returned to the Zippleback nearby, waiting next to Kephale. When Phainon climbed into the saddle, she had Janus move closer to ruffle his hair and get rid of the last of the wheat. “Thanks, Tribbie.”

“No problem,” the girl chuckled, nodding to Trianne and Trinnon before their two-headed dragon took to the sky. Phainon patted Kephale’s neck before he flew up after them, returning to civilization.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Their dragons went off to go play as Phainon made his way up the steps leading to the great hall. Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon had been talking about what had happened that morning while Phainon was away. It was mostly idle conversation to fill the silence, but he appreciated their efforts nonetheless.

The great hall was relatively empty when they pushed the doors open. Aglaea sat at the head of the long table, Hyacine to her left and Castorice to her right. Anaxa was standing over a map, and Cipher was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, Phainon. I’m glad you could make it,” Aglaea’s smooth voice greeted them. She motioned at the empty chairs lining the long wood. “Please, take a seat.”

Phainon sat down next to Anaxa, watching the map spread out on the wooden table. Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon took place across from him, next to Hyacine. “So, what’s this about? Another hunter attack?”

“Not precisely,” Aglaea sighed, threading her fingers through each other to rest her chin on them. “While there will be hunters, this operation will be different. We will be targeting a dragon fighting arena. I need all of you to be on your guard constantly. These dragons are used to violence from humans. We do not want to hurt them, we only need to set them free and destroy the arena.”

“Seems simple enough,” Phainon commented, but he suspected there was more to it. At least, if Anaxa’s huff of humorless laughter was any indication.

“Simple in theory,” the strategist said. “But they will fight back, and we don’t have the full layout of the base. We will essentially be going in blind. Aglaea’s little spies won’t be able to help us with scouting without the high risk of being captured.”

“Something I will not allow to happen,” said woman added. “And neither will I allow anything to happen to you. If the danger becomes too big, we will retreat. We can always go back to finish the job.”

There was a collective agreement around the table, confirmed in murmurs and nods. Phainon gave one of his own. Aglaea had always been stern, but they all knew it was because she cared about them. Not just as a chief, but as a family.

“Anaxagoras has a map with the outside layout of the arena,” she continued, motioning at the yellowed paper with ink drawings. “We only know where the entrances are, and where the fights happen. Other than that, we are at a disadvantage.”

“So everyone needs to be on high alert,” Anaxa repeated. He tapped the map at what Phainon could read was labeled as ‘Entrance 1’. Anaxa’s finger slid over the paper to point at the other 3 as well. “These are the entrances. They are guarded by two at all times, our plan is to take them out simultaneously before their shifts are over. That way, we have the best chance of getting in without being noticed immediately. With the cover of night, we should be able to get there unseen.”

“How far away is this arena?” Castorice spoke up, not taking her eyes off the map.

“If we leave after lunch, we should get there by evening,” Anaxa answered. “It’s a few hours long of a flight, including a few short stops to let our dragons rest. I suggest everyone goes to eat something before we depart.”

“If anyone has any doubts or objections, you are welcome to voice them,” Aglaea cut in, ignoring the pointed look Anaxa gave her. Everyone at the table knew how prickly he could become if his plans were questioned. But the explanation had been clear, and no one raised their hand to speak. Aglaea nodded.

“Very well. I will see you all after lunch at the stables,” with a wave towards the door, everyone was dismissed.

Phainon hadn’t even stepped foot outside before Mem flew towards him, landing on his right shoulder. She’d been doing that ever since they had fled Aedis Elysiae, taking her spot where she’d usually sit with Cyrene.

His melancholic expression was noticed by Castorice, who walked up and placed her hand on his shoulder. When he turned his head, he received a gentle smile.

“Are you alright, Phainon?” she asked, soft as she always was. He tried to return her smile, but he couldn’t convince himself that it was done in the same happy way he usually did it.

“I’m alright, thank you for asking,” he answered, reaching up to scratch Mem under her chin. “Just.. lost in thought, still.”

Castorice hummed, extending her arm towards the small dragon. Mem smelled her gloved fingers before licking them, and got a few pets over her head.

“I know you haven’t been willing to talk about your past, or.. anything that troubles you,” she started, dropping her hand to her side. “But I hope you know that we’re here for you. For whatever reason that may be. We’ll help.”

Phainon couldn’t find the words. For a few moments, he stood there, silent as the statues on either side of the doors to the great hall. In the end, he could only sigh softly, his smile turning more gentle and less forced.

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “Thank you, Castorice. I appreciate it.”

“As long as you’re aware,” she replied, giving Phainon a last smile before she turned to walk down the steps. Mem settled further on his shoulder, letting out a soft squawk.

“Yeah, we should probably get something to eat too,” Phainon mumbled to the small dragon, descending down the stone stairs to walk between the houses. Kephale was likely still off flying somewhere with the other dragons, but he’d return when they had to leave, Phainon was sure of it. In the meantime, he’d keep himself busy finding both himself and the Terrible Terror on his shoulder a good meal.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Kephale stood still as Phainon adjusted the saddle, buckling the leather straps purely by muscle memory. It was still the same saddle he’d used in Aedis Elysiae. The same saddle he’d made together with Cyrene and improved time and time again. The material was worn but still sturdy, thanks to the saddlemakers of Okhema. Phainon had insisted on keeping it, and they had done a wonderful job at upholding his request when they took care of it.

“Is everyone ready?” Aglaea asked, arms crossed over her chest as she oversaw everyone getting ready for the flight. She would not be joining the raid, staying behind to keep an eye on Okhema while their flyers were gone. So would Anaxa, he had relayed all his information to Castorice before they’d regrouped at the stables. She would be their informant tonight.

“Yes,” came the affirmation as one by one, everyone climbed into their saddles. Kephale twisted his head to look at Phainon as took the reins, a look on his face that Phainon had long since discovered was a request for confirmation. Phainon gave his dragon a reassuring smile and nod, paired with a gentle hand on his neck. “Ready.”

“Good luck, all of you,” Aglaea nodded. “May your return be victorious.”

With those parting words, the riders took to the sky, riding the wind in the direction of their target.

Chapter 4: Champion

Notes:

Lowkey almost forgot to post this one oopsie

Cheers erupted all around him, deafening to his ears. It was too loud, too much. He’d heard the noise so many times over the years, and yet it had always grated his ears.

He didn’t understand what was so fun about watching a fight you couldn’t participate in.

Even less when he knew it was Nikador in that battle.

He knew his dragon would be fine. Nikador had been the reigning champion of the ring for years now, after having adjusted to his new position as entertainment. Mydei had been allowed to stay with him, if he did the opening acts of human fights and guarded the place the rest of his time. Those spars couldn’t even be called actual fights, but at least they helped him lose some of his pent up frustration.

Finishing up the bandage around his bloody knuckles, Mydei stood up from the crate he’d been sitting on to grab his gauntlets. He’d been allowed to keep them, it wasn’t like he could get far in an uprising without risking Nikador’s life.

And Mydei was not planning to lose any more companions.

The fight was over before it had even truly begun, but they’d figured out that Nikador didn’t have to make quick work of his opponents. Drawing the fight out created suspension, made the crowd of spectators go wild when one finally did gain the upper hand. Nikador had gotten good at playing his part, dancing around his match only to overpower them quickly and end it. The crowd loved it every single time.

That was what must’ve happened when the visitors went ballistic, the yelling followed by a triumphant roar. It wouldn’t be long before Nikador would be returned to his stable, if it could even be called that, and Mydei would be able to sit with him again.

The titanwing was already there when Mydei arrived. The space where he was kept had no comfort, only a source of water and stone on every surface. Nikador’s tails, as per usual, had been chained with dragonproof metal once more.

Mydei didn’t say a word, didn’t need to, when he sat down next to his friend. He reached out to pat his head, eyes trailing to the fresh cut on the dragon’s cheek. Another scar added to the collection. It was nothing new.

Nikador picked up and swallowed his fish in one go, tongue flicking over his teeth before eating the next one. Only the victor would get dinner, and the body of the loser would be discarded. Rarely did the arena keep the night’s losing dragon, only if it’d show potential to become better. Otherwise, its lifeless heap of scales would be sold to the highest bidder.

He could only hope Nikador would not meet such a fate.

They had no plan, no way of escape. Mydei was alone, all of those who could’ve helped were long gone, dead even before he’d gotten to the arena. Nikador was strong, but there were other, stronger dragons out there. With every arrival of new contestants, Mydei would analyze the Triple Stryke’s chances. Every time, they had been positive. But his luck might run out soon.

“Good job,” he mumbled, words only meant for his companion. Nikador glanced at him, before nudging a fish towards Mydei with his snout. With a quick flame, the meat was cooked, probably burnt; but it was better than nothing. While Mydei did get food as a guard and would have insisted Nikador take it, he knew the dragon didn’t like his meat cooked. Mydei ate it if only not to waste the fish.

“What do you think your next fight will be?” he asked to fill the silence. Nikador laid his head down on the stone, but Mydei knew he wouldn’t be sleeping this soon. “I saw a Razorwhip arrive today. And a Rumblehorn.”

Nikador huffed, bound tails curling around both himself and his rider. Mydei smiled softly at the protective gesture. Even with everything they’d done in the arena, their instincts towards each other never changed.

“Yeah, I think you’ll be fine,” he added quietly, leaning against the titanwing’s side. “None of them are a match for you.”

He wasn’t retrieved for guard duty that evening, left to rest at his dragon’s side.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

The hallways were always quiet at this hour. The last fight had ended hours ago, and most life had returned to their beds for the night. Only the guards stationed at the entrances were still alive, making quiet small talk in order to stay awake.

Mydei hadn’t been able to sleep much. Nikador had long since fallen into slumber in his sorry excuse for a stable, his last fight had dragged on for much longer than usual. Mydei wouldn’t admit that he had been growing concerned for his dragon. Nikador had won in the end, but who knew what new dragons he’d go up against? Mydei would rather not find out which species would be his friend’s downfall.

His footsteps echoed through the silence of the corridor, a backdrop to Mydei’s thoughts. His shift wasn’t supposed to start for another two hours, but he doubted he could catch any sleep in that time. Not if he wanted to avoid his brain conjuring up images of his friend’s lifeless body.

Passing the corner, though, he paused in his step. The guards that were supposed to be on duty lay motionless on the floor, a single man standing between them. Silver hair had a warm glow cast on it from the torches lining the walls. He didn’t look like it’d taken him a lot of effort.

No matter. Mydei wasn’t weak like them.

Blue eyes turned their attention on him, but Mydei was already moving. There were no words, only the clang of metal on metal. The man’s sword clashed against Mydei’s gauntlets, and with every strike, sparks flew out from between their weapons. Mydei had to admit that it had been a while since he fought someone who could actually pose as a challenge.

Grabbing hold of the blade, Mydei gave a short tug at the weapon, causing the other man to let go. He threw the sword to the ground with a clatter, stepping closer as his opponent backed away.

“You get one chance to explain yourself,” he said, his expression stern and showing no room for argument. He kept walking until the man’s back hit the wall, and then he reached out to close his hand around his throat. “Talk.”

The man was silent, too long for Mydei’s liking. His eyes were widened, lips parted in an attempt to form words. Mydei’s hand tightened around his windpipe.

“𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘬,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “Before I make sure you never talk again.”

“That’s an awfully violent threat,” the man huffed, putting up a smile as if the claws of Mydei’s gauntlet weren’t pricking into his skin. He held onto Mydei’s wrist, like that would make him loosen his grip. “Okay, okay okay, no need to do that-”

“Explain yourself,” Mydei’s patience was growing thin the more this stranger tried stalling.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” the man let go of Mydei’s wrist to instead hold up his hands in what he probably hoped was a placating gesture. “We just want to set these dragons free.”

Now that made Mydei pause.

“You.. want to help these dragons?” he asked, needing confirmation even if the only sound had been the man’s voice. There was no way he could’ve misheard.

“Yes,” the man nodded. “These fights are inhuman, it’s not right to set these animals up to battle each other to the death! You can see that, right?”

Of course he would think Mydei supported this. How could he know any different? He’d fought the man on sight. Naturally, he’d believe Mydei saw nothing wrong with this place.

But he saw everything wrong with it.

Releasing the man’s throat, Mydei stepped back to give him space. The stranger’s hand moved to cover his neck, an instinctive response to the threat of being choked.

“And what will you do if these dragons are free?” he asked. “Use them for your own gain?”

He had no base for his accusation, only the need to protect Nikador against any further injustice. The man shook his head.

“No, no using on our part. We will simply let them free and then torch this place,” he answered. Mydei searched his face for any sign of deception, but he found none. The man’s expression showed nothing but sincerity, and a hatred towards what happened at the arena. “I swear on my life.”

“It better be on your life,” Mydei hissed. “Because I will kill you if I ever find out you were lying.”

“Yeah, of course,” the man moved slowly, like Mydei was an unpredictable animal that could attack any moment, to get to his sword. He crouched down to grab the handle but didn’t show any telltale signs of intending to attack again. “So, will you let me do this?”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. Alone or not, he assumed this man had some sort of plan. No one would go in without background knowledge.

“Do you even know where they keep the dragons?” Mydei crossed his arms over his chest. Judging by the stranger’s hesitant look, he didn’t. Mydei sighed and pointed down the corridor.

“There are stables down that hallway, on the right. Go left and you’ll be met with the other guards,” he explained. “Don’t get caught, or you might end up facing me again. And if that happens, I won’t be so merciful.”

The man looked dazed, and Mydei figured it was from surprise. He couldn’t blame him, no one would think a guard would just help out with no intention of ratting them out. In the end, he only nodded, and turned to rush down the hallway.

Mydei waited until he was out of sight, before he quickly went back the way he came from. If this was his chance at leaving this godforsaken arena, he would rather die than leave Nikador behind.

Chapter 5: How Fast are Triple Strykes?

‘Why am I even doing this?’ was all Phainon could think as he ran down the corridor. ‘Why am I trusting someone who 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 here? Oh gods take me now, he’s just leading me somewhere easy to corner. I’m going to get caught, and Aglaea will have to come up with something to save me.’

Skidding to a stop, Phainon’s eyes widened at the sight of dragonproof bars. Behind it were a few; he could see a Singetail and a Monstrous Nightmare. In the back, he made out the silhouette of a Snaffefang. The poor guy didn’t even look like he was an adult yet.

‘Oh,’ he thought. ‘So he was telling the truth.’

Analyzing the bars, Phainon tried to figure out how to get it open and let these dragons go free. When he noticed the lock, he patted his own pockets, despite knowing none of them were given any keys.

“Shit,” Phainon muttered, looking from the lock to his sword. He might have to break it open with his weapon, but he didn’t know how sturdy the metal was, and the noise would surely alert all the guards the pretty man told him about.

Why was he still thinking about him?

“Looking for these?”

Phainon whipped around, only to see no one behind him. He couldn’t have been hallucinating, right? He did hear a voice.

“Yoohoo~” said the invisible person, and suddenly Phainon could see keys dangling in the air. When it finally clicked, he smiled and shook his head.

“Cipher,” he said, placing a hand on his hip. “I didn’t see you at the meeting. I thought you were skipping this one.”

“Ugh, I was there alright,” the gray haired woman finally appeared, the Changewing behind her materializing as if from thin air. “I just went ahead to scout. You know Aglaea wouldn’t let me do this if she knew about it.”

“Right,” Phainon nodded. The chief had always been protective, even more so towards Cipher. “The keys?”

He caught the ring when it was tossed over, and Phainon made quick work of the lock. Stepping into the cage, he held up his hands in an attempt to seem non-threatening, even if these dragons could incinerate him on the spot.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” Phainon whispered, closing in on the Monstrous Nightmare. It snarled, and he was quick to shush it. “Shh, I’m going to get these chains off you, alright?”

With slow movements, Phainon crouched down next to the Nightmare’s leg, looking through the key ring to find the fitting one. Once he found it, he unchained the dragon and stood up, stepping back. “See? We’re here to help you.”

Confused, the Monstrous Nightmare turned its long neck to inspect its leg. When it found itself unchained, it returned its attention to Phainon and gently nudged him with its snout. Phainon was careful of its teeth when he placed a hand on its snout.

“There we go,” he murmured, petting over the deep red scales. “Cipher, can you lead them out of here? I’ll go search for more.”

“On it,” came the affirmative. Once Phainon released the three dragons from their shackles, he waited until they disappeared around the corner before he continued his way.

‘I only got this one hint from that guard,’ he thought while walking through the torch-lit corridors. ‘Let’s hope I can find the rest on my own, without being caught.’

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

“That’s all of them,” he muttered to himself, watching the last dragons fly off into the night. The Deathgripper had been the hardest to deal with, almost alerting the guards with its snarling and growling. Phainon had narrowly evaded the corrosion of his head when it spit acid at him.

“Phainon!” Hyacine called out from Aquila’s back. The Light Fury looked uneasy from what Phainon could see.

“Hyacine, what is it?” he turned to face her more. Kephale shifted where he sat behind him.

“Cassie is in trouble! Come on!” Hyacine answered, already turning back to where she came from. The base around the arena was huge, that’s what Phainon told himself as he climbed into the saddle and followed her. That’s why he hadn’t noticed.

A magnesium blast into the air startled both of them, and when they looked down, they saw Thanatos covered in nets. Guards surrounded both dragon and rider, and even being able to fight, Castorice was severely outnumbered.

“We got all the dragons out, right? No issue torching the place now,” Phainon said to Hyacine, only seeing her nod from the corner of his vision when he dove down. Kephale roared, right before sending a sea of flames upon the guards. Castorice stepped backwards to her dragon, the fire creating a barrier between her and some of the hunters. Hyacine and Aquila took quick care of the other ones with a few well-aimed plasma blasts.

Kephale flew lower, and Phainon jumped from his back to help Castorice get the nets off her dragon. He cut through the rope with his sword while Castorice used her scythe, and soon she got onto Thanatos’ back to fly off. Phainon ran towards the cliffs, shaking off any guards who tried to follow him. When he jumped over the edge, he only fell for a few moments before Kephale swooped under him to catch him and flew up again.

“Is everyone okay?” he asked once he regrouped, Castorice still a little spooked but she seemed better now that they were up high. Hyacine nodded and Cipher flew up to them as well. “Where’s the triplets?”

“There!” Hyacine pointed back at the arena. When Kephale turned around, Phainon could see the Zippleback’s form quickly fly towards them. Behind her was another dragon, and Phainon briefly worried if they had forgotten one. Upon closer inspection though, that assumption was wrong.

This titanwing Triple Stryke had a rider.

Phainon didn’t waste any time. A normal Triple Stryke could take out most dragons, let alone a titanwing. Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon wouldn’t stand a chance if that rider caught up to them.

Kephale flew up, then dove down between the triplets and the Triple Stryke to confuse it and hopefully draw its attention to himself. It seemed to work, because the dragon instead gave chase to him.

The Triple Stryke was about as big as Kephale, so if they did end up fighting, they might be able to hold out until the others came to his aid. Phainon hadn’t looked back to see if they were following him and the other rider, but he assumed it wouldn’t take long.

Glancing over his shoulder, he tried to see what the rider looked like. He had to push his hair aside to keep it out of his eyes, and he was surprised to see a somewhat familiar face.

‘Why did he let me free those dragons just to chase us afterwards?’ he thought, turning back ahead to focus on aerial maneuvers. Lowering down to fly right above the sea, Kephale made use of the stone structures protruding from the water. Twisting over, under and past the rocks, Phainon was sure he could shake them off like this.

So he was surprised to see the Triple Stryke appear in front of them.

“Shit,” he cursed as Kephale dove down, narrowly evading the snapping jaws. Phainon could hear the guard say something to the dragon, but he couldn’t hear what it was, already too far away for that. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it when they turned and followed after them again.

Phainon, admittedly, didn’t know much about Triple Strykes. They weren’t common near Aedis Elysiae or Okhema. What he did know was that one should stay away from their three tails at all times. Those were their most dangerous weapons. And since this one was a titanwing, they’d better pay extra attention to that.

Apparently, Triple Strykes were also fast. Faster than Phainon had predicted. With no more rock structures to zigzag between, it only took a few seconds for the guard to get nearer. Phainon tightened his grip on the reins, ready to turn and fire when they got too close.

A yell followed by a roar caught his attention, and he dared glance back over his shoulder. He could see Aquila flying up, carrying the guard despite her smaller frame, and the titanwing quickly altered its course. Aquila was already weighed down by carrying both Hyacine and the rider, and so Phainon turned to help her.

They managed to get closer before the Triple Stryke got to Aquila. Truthfully, Phainon had no idea how they could help. Firing would risk Hyacine as well, and that’d be the last thing Phainon wanted. Kephale had already made up his mind, reaching out with his talons to grab the titanwing’s tails right at the base of the stingers. He dragged it back, making it roar out and twist to attack with its claws. Aquila dropped the rider, only for him to be plucked from the air by Thanatos.

Kephale couldn’t defend his weaker underbelly to the Triple Stryke’s claws, so he had no choice but to let go. It only roared shortly before continuing to give chase after the one who took its rider.

“This makes no sense,” Hyacine said, hovering next to him in the air. “Why would a dragon protect someone who put it in that arena?”

“I have no idea,” Phainon shook his head. “But we’ll figure that out later, he’s gaining on Castorice. Is Aquila okay?”

“Just tired, we’ll have to rest shortly when we go home,” Hyacine answered. Phainon gave her an affirmative as he had Kephale fly after them again. They sped up when the Triple Stryke snapped its jaws at Thanatos’ tail, but Phainon knew they couldn’t get there on time.

“Cas! Drop him!” he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth to sound louder. Before Castorice could answer, he added. “It’s going after its rider! Just drop him!”

At that, Thanatos opened his talons to let go of the guard. Just like Phainon thought it would, the titanwing dove down to catch its rider, and then flew off to one of the stone structures. Phainon had seen cleaner landings, but now that he really looked closely, he could see that the titanwing was wounded. It must’ve been the adrenaline that made the chase possible.

Kephale descended onto the stone with much more grace, lowering his head to let Phainon slide off. He unsheathed his sword and took a few steps closer, stopping right outside of the Triple Stryke’s range.

Upon seeing the weapon, the titanwing pushed itself up on its claws and turned to face Phainon, baring its teeth. The three tails untwined, all of them held high in a clear warning and threat. But that wasn’t what caught Phainon’s surprise.

No, it was because the dragon stood so protectively in front of the guard that Phainon paused.

“I want answers,” he said, lifting his blade. He was met with a snarl from the dragon, one which Kephale responded to in kind, and a glare from the guard. “Now.”

The silence lasted a few moments. Then, slowly, the guard stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on the side of the Triple Stryke’s head. It seemed to get the message and backed down, but didn’t stray far. “To what questions?”

“Let’s start with why you were chasing us,” Phainon replied, lowering his sword now that he didn’t see any intentions to fight. He could hear his friends behind him, the wings of their dragons flapping as they landed on nearby plateaus.

“Because I’m unfamiliar with this archipelago,” the guard crossed his arms over his chest. His chest that, Phainon just noticed, was barely covered in clothing. He tried not to stare. How had he not seen that when they fought?

“Nonsense. You worked at the arena,” he gritted his teeth, hand tightening on the handle of his weapon. The guard seemed unfazed.

“I worked there out of obligation,” he replied, and Phainon hated how he couldn’t tell if that was a lie or not. “It was the only way I could stay with Nikador.”

“Who is-” Phainon caught himself before he could finish his own question. He glanced to the side, watching the titanwing keep an eye on both of them. “That’s your dragon?”

“Why do you think he put so much effort into getting me back from you?” the guard grumbled, and Phainon had to admit that he made a point. A titanwing would rather eat someone they didn’t trust instead of letting them on its back.

Phainon opened his mouth to ask another question, but both he and the guard were distracted by the painful sounding noise the Triple Stryke let out. He took a step forward, only to collapse onto the scarce grass of the plateau. The rider was near him in an instant.

“His last fight was a close call,” the rider explained before Phainon could even ask. “It’s why we followed you, hoping you could help.”

Phainon paused. He looked from the titanwing to the rider, and then back at the others. Aquila jumped from her ledge to land next to Kephale, and Hyacine got off her back to walk over to the injured dragon.

“Let me see,” she said, kneeling down next to the rider. She took a closer look at Nikador’s injuries, determining how bad they were. The following minutes were silent, but Phainon could see the anxious tension in the rider’s shoulders.

“He’ll be okay, but only he receives medical attention,” Hyacine concluded when she stood up again. “We can take you with us, but you’ll have to ride on one of our dragons for the trip.”

“If that’s possible,” the rider agreed immediately. “I’ll repay you after. Just help him. Please.”

Hyacine nodded and turned to Phainon. “Kephale is the only one who can carry him the entire way home. It’s only a matter of who he- uh, what’s your name?”

The rider looked from Hyacine to Phainon and then back at Nikador. “... Mydeimos.”

Hyacine nodded. “It’s only a matter of who Mydeimos will be riding with. Aquila can’t carry two people that long, Janus and Polis already have three people to take along. That leaves Cas and Ci- oh, nevermind, Cipher is already gone… that leaves Cas and you, Phainon.”

Phainon glanced back at Kephale. The Stormcutter didn’t seem like he objected to it. “We can carry Mydeimos along.”

“Alright,” Hyacine clapped her hands together. “If Kephale gets too tired, let us know. I’ll go with Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon to get rid of the arena. Let’s go.”

Kephale lowered his head to let Phainon climb on again. Aquila ascended already while Mydeimos walked over. Phainon held out his hand. After a short stare, Mydeimos ended up climbing on without Phainon’s help.

“Please don’t strangle me during the flight,” he tried to joke, but the short hum he received wasn’t very reassuring. Kephale flapped his four wings, gently picked up Nikador’s worryingly limp body, and then flew back in the direction of home.

Chapter 6: All Healed Up

Notes:

The chapter is late because Ao3 was going haywire at my dorm, I couldn't start it before being sent back. I actually feared they saw my hours on this site and thought hell no we gotta put a stop to this
Take this as a possible warning that the chapter for next Wednesday might be postponed to Friday

The flight back to this group’s home was too long for his liking. Phainon, as he’d heard his friend call him, did not shut up for longer than five minutes. For all his bravado during that aerial chase and how he confronted Mydei afterwards, he really just reminded him of an excited dragonet.

His dragon flew steadily, at least, considering it was carrying two people and a titanwing along with its own weight. Mydei didn’t remember its exact name, something with a K. He would hear it again, he was sure.

Hours must’ve passed, their flight only disturbed by a short break for the smaller dragons, before an island appeared in the distance. It was shrouded in morning mist, but Mydei couldn’t recognize the shape, so he could conclude that he’d never been there before.

Carefully, the Stormcutter lowered Nikador to the ground near what Mydei assumed were the stables. Before even landing properly, he swung his leg over the dragon’s back to jump down onto the grass. The girl from before said something about getting the healers, but Mydei wasn’t paying attention. Nikador took all of his focus.

“Hang on a bit longer,” he murmured, kneeling next to his head and placing a hand on the scales. “You’ll be fine.”

Behind him, he heard the Stormcutter land and its rider’s feet hit the ground. The footsteps that followed got closer, and he felt the presence of a hand hovering over his shoulder before Phainon ultimately decided not to push his luck.

“Hyacine will take care of your dragon,” he said softly, and Mydei knew that he was trying to be reassuring. “But you’ll have to come with me for a bit.”

“I’m staying with him,” Mydei answered gruffly. He refused to leave his friend’s side, not when he needed him most. “Whatever you need me for can wait.”

Phainon hesitated, but in the end, he only sighed. “Alright. I’ll come check up on you every once in a while.”

With those parting words, he walked away, his dragon following after. Mydei stayed with Nikador, listening to the titanwing’s heavy and raspy breathing. He could only hope those healers would arrive soon, otherwise he’d have to say goodbye to his last friend.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Days passed, and only when more than a week went by did Nikador’s condition really improve. Mydei had been asleep when the feeling of something rough and wet woke him up. He had to wipe the spit from his eyes before he could open them and look, relief flooding his system when he saw Nikador standing.

“Good morning to you, too,” he smiled, pushing himself upright to stand. Nikador nudged his nose against him, nearly sending him sprawling on the stable floor again, but he managed to hold on and stay upright. “Glad to see you’re doing better now.”

Walking past his head, Mydei made his way to the stable doors to push them open and let Nikador outside. He hadn’t been able to leave the stables since he was brought inside to heal up, so Mydei expected him to have some leftover energy.

And he was right, seeing as Nikador ran into the field next to the stables to roll in the grass. Mydei wasn’t in the mood to smell like earth, though, so he remained standing near the side. He already reeked of stable as it was, he’d have to see if he could wash himself and his clothes somewhere soon.

“I see he’s feeling better,” a gentle voice came from behind him. Mydei had gotten used to Hyacine’s presence, seeing as she was the primary healer for the dragons on this island. Mydei had long since stopped feeling wary towards her, after she had saved Nikador from almost succumbing to his injuries.

“Just from this morning,” he told her, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Nikador roll around in the field. He furrowed his brows, head cocked to the side. “What is this grass?”

Hyacine hummed shortly, looking up from the book she was holding to Nikador. “Oh, that’s dragonnip. We keep it near the stables to help calm dragons who can’t sleep or rest when they need healing. He might get a little woozy from it, but it’s harmless.”

Mydei couldn’t help but be reminded of the dragonroot arrows used at the arena. “Are you sure it’s okay with this much?”

“Mhm,” Hyacine nodded, confident in her answer. “We sometimes let our dragons loose here after a mission. It helps soothe their nerves. The only incident we’ve had so far was when Zagreus came from the field straight to the fish supply, and then he ate until he fell asleep right on top of it. We had to call Cipher to get him, but even that took a few hours.”

 

The way she spoke made it seem as if Mydei belonged here, like they were all acquainted. It made him feel conflicted. He convinced himself that it was just the way Hyacine spoke, that she was like that to everyone.

“Oh, right, you don’t know everyone yet,” she mused. “How about this; I’ll bring you to Aglaea for a talk, she’s the chief, and then I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

Mydei glanced at her, and he couldn’t bear to look at her beaming smile and say no. He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before turning them back to Nikador.

“Alright.”

Hyacine seemed pleased with that. “Great! Come on, I’ll take you right away. Aglaea has been wanting to speak with you since you got here, but I told her she’d have to wait until your dragon got better. She didn’t really like that, but just be polite and you’ll be fine.”

“I’ll try,” Mydei grumbled, following Hyacine when she turned and walked away. As they walked through the village, Mydei tried to ignore the looks the inhabitants gave him. Hyacine went on about their village, occasionally pointing out a specific person or shop, and giving the explanation that came with it. Mydei only paid half a mind to what she was saying.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

The conversation went on for longer than Mydei liked. When he stepped outside the great hall, the sun was already lowering beyond the huts. Aglaea hadn’t trusted him at first, which he thought was a fair point, he was a stranger who worked at the arena after all. She had been more intimidating than the man next to her with a crossbow, the few Fireworms, and the Dramillion combined.

He was beginning to feel hungry, but he could hold out a bit longer. Now, he wanted to get back to Nikador, since he hadn’t told the dragon when he would be back. And so he made his way back to the stables.

He wouldn’t admit that he got a little lost, but he finally did reach the dragons’ sleeping place again. He recognized Phainon and Kephale, the latter communicating with Nikador in some way. He saw the signs of agitation, before they disappeared when Nikador noticed him. The Triple Stryke quickly made his way over, and Mydei patted his snout.

“Were you disturbing my dragon?” he asked the white haired man, who gingerly rubbed the back of his neck.

“No? I mean, I told Kephale to leave him be, but there’s only so much I can do to stop him,” Phainon sighed. At least his dejection seemed genuine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy him. He was getting restless so I gave him some dragonnip, but he didn’t want to take it, and then Kephale tried it his way and- well, you saw that.”

Mydei grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head lightly. “It’s fine. He was just worried about where I was. Your chief spoke to me.”

“Yes, Hyacine told me,” Phainon nodded. “What did you talk about?”

“Why do you want to know?” he replied sharply. Phainon held up his hands in that same placating gesture he used back at the arena.

“Just curious,” he answered. “I know a thing or two about those conversations, I’ve had one myself. I just wanted to know what you discussed, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Mydei regarded Phainon with narrowed eyes. Whereas he’d compared Phainon to an excited puppy during the flight back here, now he looked more than a kicked dog in the rain. He sighed.

“Your chief allowed me to stay here if I wanted to,” he said, recalling Aglaea’s emotionless words. “If I did, I’d have to familiarize myself with your people and your rules.”

Phainon seemed to perk up at that. “And? Will you stay?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Mydei rolled his eyes. “I told her I’m going to wait a few days and see. If I want to leave, she said I’d be free to go.”

He decided to ignore the flash of disappointment over Phainon’s face, for it was quickly overshadowed by a determined look and a smile.

“Well then, I suppose we should make sure you like it here, huh?” he shrugged, and Mydei was glad that happiness wasn’t contagious. He wondered how Phainon’s face didn’t hurt with how he was always talking or smiling.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, but he didn’t exactly wait for Mydei to answer when he walked past, motioning at him to follow. “Come on, I reckon it’s dinner time by now.”

“What about Nikador?” Mydei asked, turning on his heel but not yet following the other man.

“I’m going to leave some fish for every dragon in the stables, don’t worry! The great hall is just a bit too small to house every villager and dragon,” Phainon was already moving to get the barrels out from the stock hut. Mydei glanced at Nikador before going to help Phainon, and then went with him back to the great hall, all the while Phainon talked his ear off.

By the end of the evening, Mydei was ready to go deaf.

Chapter 7: By the Pomegranate Tree

The pomegranate tree at the orchard next to the wheat field usually stood lonely, but when Kephale had landed, Phainon could make out two forms nearby. He slid out of the saddle, landing on the dirt with a thud and then walked over to them with Kephale close behind.

Mydei had settled on one of the tree’s sturdier branches, leaning back against the trunk. Phainon had never found it comfortable to sit on, but Mydei seemed to feel right at home. Nikador looked up from the fruit he was eating, only to go back to it when he confirmed who they were.

“Enjoying the shade?” Phainon asked, stopping near the tree. Mydei looked down, and while he didn’t say anything aloud, Phainon heard the affirming mutter. Phainon took the lack of rejection as a sign that he could sit with him, so he lowered himself on the ground to lean against the base of the tree.

The shadows under the dense foliage made for a good shield against the sun, regardless of how warm it was. Phainon had always laid in the fields between the wheat, reminding himself of home, refusing to forget.

Cyrene was still out there, and by the gods, he would find her.

“So, Mydeimos,” he said to fill the silence. Nikador was still eating, crushing the pomegranates under his nose before licking up the seeds, and Kephale had sat down to sunbathe. “How did you like your first night here?”

When a silence followed, Phainon was unsure if he was heard or not. He tipped his head back and opened his mouth, but before he could repeat himself, Mydei spoke up.

“It was.. fine,” he heard the sigh. “I’m not used to so many people sharing meals and talking to me.”

“Did you not talk much with the other guards at the arena?” Phainon furrowed his brows. He couldn’t imagine being somewhere and not having at least one person he couldn’t talk with. “Or did you not have many friends?”

That question might’ve offended Mydei, judging by the glare sent his way. Phainon was about to apologize, but he was beaten to it again.

“I’m not a very social person,” Mydei explained, and Phainon was pleasantly surprised that he was talking about himself. He’d thought he’d have to pry all the answers out of Mydei. “I didn’t have much contact with people growing up. I had five friends and Nikador. That was it.”

“Ah, like that,” Phainon nodded. “I’m sorry if that was offensive. I was just curious.”

“I know,” Mydei let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve said that after every question you asked me last night.”

Phainon pursed his lips together. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been talking. He supposed it was because he found some start of camaraderie in Mydei, considering their fight and chase from a week ago. It had been a long time since Phainon found someone who could keep up with him in a physical fight.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, pulling his knees further up to his chest. The last thing he wanted was to make Mydei feel pressured with his questions and end up leaving. Phainon wouldn’t blame him if he’d go just because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“... It’s fine,” Mydei eventually said, and Phainon would’ve missed it had the fields not been so quiet. “Your constant chattering actually helped me.”

“Helped you?” Phainon repeated, adjusting his position so he could look up at Mydei more easily. “How?”

Mydei glanced down, only to look away shortly after. “The villagers don’t seem to like me very much. They kept looking at me weirdly. I don’t normally mind it, but..” he paused, sighing. “Your questions distracted me. I suppose I should thank you for that.”

“Oh,” Phainon dumbly replied. He hadn’t noticed the stares the villagers gave Mydei. He’d have to talk to them about it. “Do you even know how to say thank you?”

“HKS, I just said it,” Mydei cussed, and Phainon frowned at the foreign word. It didn’t sound like a compliment, but he let it slide.

“You just said you should thank me,” he chuckled. “That’s not the same.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t!”

“Just accept it, Deliverer,” Mydei rolled his eyes. “That’s all the thanks you’ll see from me.”

“I don’t think I can accept that,” Phainon shook his head, still smiling as he stood up. “But I think I know another way for you to show your thanks.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Mydei raised a brow, but Phainon could see the interest in his expression.

So, Mydei liked being challenged. Phainon could do that.

“Let’s spar,” he put his hands on his hips. “Right here. If I win, you apologize properly.”

Mydei huffed what Phainon assumed was a laugh, moving to drop back to the ground. “And if I win?”

Phainon hadn’t thought that far. “Then… you can pick something for me to do in return.”

“You’re so confident you’ll win that you didn’t even consider losing?” Mydei drawled, an amused smirk playing on his face. “Bold. I like it.”

Phainon couldn’t help the feeling of pride swelling in his chest. He didn’t even know why he liked Mydei’s approval that much. Perhaps it was because they were equal in strength, or that he actually posed a challenge. Any other option was quickly pushed down.

“Alright then, Mydeimos,” Phainon stepped back, into the wheat field. “No weapons, just bare hands. No serious injuries. The winner is the one who can get the other to yield first. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mydei agreed instantly with a nod, dropping his gauntlets in the dirt near Nikador. He stepped forward, following Phainon into the grain. “I hope you’re ready to lose, Deliverer.”

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Phainon was not, in fact, ready to lose.

With his arm bent and pushed against his own back, he’d been forced to the ground with Mydei pinning him down. Mydei fought like his life depended on it, like it was his only purpose, like it was second nature to him. The second Phainon had announced the start of their spar, he had already lost.

“Do you yield?” came Mydei’s deep voice from above him. Phainon was still trying to breathe with his lungs crushed between the weight of his opponent and his own ribs.

“Never,” he managed to reply. Wrong answer, apparently, because the pressure only increased.

“Do. You. Yield?” Mydei asked again, and he sounded like he’d actually break Phainon’s arm if he didn’t, despite their agreement of no serious injuries.

Phainon had no choice but to slap his free hand repeatedly against the ground.

“I yield! I yield,” he admitted, breathing a sigh of relief as the pressure on his arm relented and Mydei got back up. Phainon took the hand that was offered to him and stood, patting wheat and dirt from his clothes.

“You really weren’t joking about me losing, huh,” he grinned, holding his aching shoulder and rotating his arm to check for any possible issues. Mydei upheld the spar rules, at least.

“I don’t joke,” Mydei crossed his arms, and Phainon wondered how he didn’t look all that disheveled except for the wheat in his hair.

“I figured,” Phainon murmured, shaking his head lightly. “Say, how about a bath? I think we’ll both benefit from one, don’t you agree?”

Mydei paused, even if he wasn’t saying anything. He considered the offer and nodded. “Lead the way.”

The hot springs were a short flight away, at the higher parts of the island. Kephale and Nikador landed nearby, and Phainon handed one of the robes to Mydei.

“We’ll go get you some extra sets of clothes later,” he said, turning around to change. Mydei did the same, if the sound of clothing was anything to go by. Their own clothes were dropped near the side and the two of them entered one of the hot springs, sitting near the edge to lean back against it.

Phainon let out a pleased sigh as the warm water engulfed him, soothing the aches he got from their sparring. Mydei seemed to do just fine, keeping an eye on their dragons nearby.

“So, where’d you learn how to fight like that?” Phainon asked after some minutes of nothing but the sound of the wind, water, and the distant noise of dragons and people. Mydei, as usual, didn’t answer him immediately.

“.. I’m from a line of warriors. While I spent the majority of my life away from them, I picked up a thing or two over the years,” he explained. Phainon listened intently, and he wondered which line Mydei was talking about. He could name a few, but he knew there were many more.

“Can I ask which one?” he decided to ask. The worst he could get was a no, right?

Mydei sighed, he’d been doing that a lot, Phainon noticed. Only this time, he seemed torn.

“.. Kremnoan,” he simply said. Mydei seemed both proud and hesitant about it. Phainon remembered that it was likely because Kremnoans were known to raid other villages, taking what they could and burning the rest to the ground.

Phainon had played with the possibility that it was Kremnoans who attacked Aedis Elysiae. But the invaders of his homeland bore none of their signature colors, and Phainon would have recognized their crest if it were them.

“I can see it,” he blurted out, and Mydei looked surprised. But how could he not? Mydei had the build for it, as well as those tattoos. Not many lines had those, especially not in such a vivid red color. “I didn’t- I mean, no, I did, but-”

“Spare yourself the embarrassment, Deliverer,” Mydei interrupted, but couldn’t hide the ghost of a smile. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Phainon nodded, and he figured he should just drop the subject lest he make a bigger fool of himself. Instead, his mind went back to the nickname Mydei had been calling him over the past few days.

“Hey, why do you call me Deliverer?” he glanced sideways at the other man. “You know my name is Phainon, right?”

“I know,” Mydei hummed. He didn’t look like he was going to edit that bit in his vocabulary, though. “It’s because you have this savior complex around you. You seem like you’d do anything, regardless of the risk to yourself, in order to help others.”

And Phainon… didn’t know what to do with that. How did Mydei know that? Was he really that good at reading people, that he figured that out a mere week after meeting? No one else had told him that so directly, so either they didn’t notice, or Mydei was just not someone who held back around others. He figured it was probably the latter, considering how he’d been during their spar.

A new, longer silence fell over the hot springs. Phainon had no words left and Mydei didn’t seem intent on carrying on their conversation.

Both of them were pulled out of their quiet at the sound of snapping jaws. They looked up to see Nikador growl at Kephale, teeth bared and pupils slitted. Kephale stepped back, lowering his head much like Phainon so often used his hands to placate Mydei.

“Is your dragon always this nosy?” Mydei asked, disapproval clear in his tone.

“Oh, no, he’s just friendly,” Phainon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Nikador must not be used to non-violent behavior from other dragons..”

Mydei gave him a sidelong glance but nodded nonetheless. “He isn’t. Years of being the champion in a fighting ring will do that to you.”

Phainon shouldn’t ask, he really shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Mydei was speaking from experience. He recalled the words he’d said during the raid.

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭.

Did he mean that how Phainon now thought he meant it? Was Mydei also forced to fight there? He wouldn’t put it past those who organized it all. People fighting to the death seemed almost as exciting as dragons fighting to the death.

“Are you..” he stopped himself, repeating mentally that he 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬, but his mouth was quicker than his inhibitions. “Did you also have to fight in that arena?”

Mydei froze, his entire posture going rigid at the question. Phainon knew he was too curious for his own good, and he fully expected Mydei to shut the question down, get up, and leave. He wouldn’t even be upset if the other man decided a punch to the face would be an appropriate response, because it would be.

“... Yes,” he admitted quietly, almost silent. His gaze hardened, then, and he glared at Phainon. “And that is all I will say about it.”

“Alright,” Phainon nodded, and now he dropped the subject completely. Mydei seemed almost haunted by the admission, and the last thing Phainon wanted to do was force him to relive those memories. His questions could wait until Mydei was ready to answer them. He’d wait years if he must.

“Want to go get something to eat?” he asked instead, easily falling back into a more easy conversation. “We can get you some fresh clothes after. My treat.”

Phainon guessed he must’ve done the right thing, seeing as Mydei’s shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “Alright. Take the lead, Deliverer.”

Getting out of the spring, he rolled his eyes at the nickname. But if Mydei wanted to call him that, then maybe it wasn’t too bad.

Chapter 8: Between the Sea, the Sky and the Earth

Summary:

We're getting somewhere

The wind rushed past his ears, whipping through his hair and making his clothes flutter. Nikador dove, then turned, followed by a barrel roll through the narrow passage through a stone structure. He could hear the flapping of wings behind him, and then a delighted laugh as Kephale rushed past them.

“Slacking off, Mydei?” Phainon grinned, and Mydei wasn’t even given the chance to respond before the Stormcutter sped up to put some more distance between them. He shook his head and gave chase, unwilling to let this end with him losing.

Flying low over the water, the rush of wind caused salty droplets to rise up and hit them in the face. Nikador caught up to Kephale, and flew up right in front of the Stormcutter to make him slow down. His tactic worked, and he used the advantage to get further. Phainon would be right behind him within seconds, so they had no time to waste.

Nearing the island, Nikador folded his wings to gain speed, rapidly approaching land. The telltale sound of Kephale doing the same told Mydei that it would be a close call. Whichever villagers were unfortunate enough to be close had already cleared out of the way, and for good reason. Both dragons opened their wings at the last possible second, sliding over the grass until they slowed to a stop, stumbling all the while. Both Phainon and Mydei caught their breath, then looked at each other, before Phainon burst into laughter and Mydei chuckled.

“It’s a draw, again!” Phainon almost doubled over, both from his laughing and from heaving for air. Mydei was briefly worried that he’d fall from Kephale’s saddle. “Seriously, how many draws can all those competitions end up in?”

Too many, apparently. This was the sixth competition they had this week, and it hadn’t even been three days yet. At this point, Mydei was just waiting for Aglaea to come and scold them for their ‘spectacles of folly’. Her words, not his.

“Think we can make it through lunch without a stern talking to?” Phainon asked as they slid out of their saddles and landed on the field. Mydei shrugged, already walking towards the stables so Nikador and Kephale could take a rest.

“If we’re quick and quiet,” he answered, but they both know they weren’t capable of that. Phainon always drew out his competitive side, and the villagers had gotten used to their shenanigans over the years. Mydei couldn’t say he had made a mistake when he decided to stay in Okhema.

“You? Quiet?” Phainon nudged his arm with his elbow, that stupid grin still on his face. “It’s not like you to joke, Mydei!”

“Says the one,” Mydei playfully shoved Phainon by the shoulder. “It wasn’t me who talked so loudly over dinner once that even Castorice asked you to quiet down.”

“But wasn’t it you who challenged me to that drinking game?” Phainon raised a brow, sounding everything but accusing. “I remember quite well how you told me ‘there is no word for holding back in the Kremnoan language’, and then you downed four cups in one sitting! You’re the one who initiated that!”

“It’s true, there is no word for holding back in the Kremnoan language,” Mydei smiled. “And neither is there one for giving up.”

“You’re starting to make me believe there are no words in the Kremnoan language at all,” Phainon sighed as they finally reached the stables. While Kephale and Nikador drank from the stream, they set to put some fish in both their stables so they could eat something before resting. “Really, how many words are missing already?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” Mydei simply shrugged, already making his way back to the village. Phainon quickly walked after him, switching the subject to anything his mind landed on. Mydei listened, used to the backdrop of Phainon’s voice after all these years.

The sun already hung high in the veil of blue, a handful of clouds scattered over the sky. The townspeople went about their days as normal, and Phainon and Mydei managed to grab a quick bite before Aglaea could find them. Although, with her Fireworks scattered throughout the island, it wouldn’t be long before they’d get her latest lecture.

They had decided to give Nikador and Kephale a break, instead taking their walk in the direction of the docks. Mydei had gotten used to the village’s rhythm in his time there, and today was usually when tradesmen would arrive to sell their items and tell their tales. Not that Mydei paid that much attention. Phainon recalled them to him anyway, and he’d rather listen to him than to those sailors.

As he thought, the first few ships had already sailed into their harbor and docked. A small number of villagers had already descended to see what they had in store. Phainon took his hand to drag him along, checking out a few inventories and occasionally asking Mydei if he wanted something.

“Do you want to listen to some stories, Mydei?” Phainon asked, chewing on a mouthful of fruit that Mydei hadn’t bothered remembering the name of. It was orange and round, and he resisted the urge to wipe the sap from Phainon’s mouth. At least he seemed to like it.

“Just say you want to,” he replied, taking his attention off it. “You’ll repeat them for me anyway.”

“That is true,” Phainon nodded in agreement, taking another bite from the fruit. After swallowing, he opened his mouth, surely to continue talking. He paused when the pink Terrible Terror landed on his shoulder. “Hey there, Mem. Want a piece?”

Mydei glanced over to see him pluck a piece from the fruit and hold it up to the small dragon. He couldn’t say he was overly fond of the little thing, but he had adjusted to her. She was usually close to Phainon when they weren’t having a competition, so he didn’t really have a choice in that matter.

Mem swallowed the piece in one bite, only to make a grimace at what Mydei assumed was an unpleasant taste. Phainon only chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you’d like it.”

With a squawk, Mem spread her wings and flew up, making her way over to one of the ships that had arrived a little later. Mydei recognized the sails as those of the Astral Express, a small group of rogues who traveled all around. Phainon had always enjoyed listening to their stories the most, and so it came as no surprise that the white haired man was quick to follow Mem. Mydei let out a small sigh and walked after him.

“Friends!” Phainon greeted them cheerfully, arms spread out to accept the almost tackling hug from the twins. “I’m glad you could make it again! How’s the world?”

“It’s great! Err, well, maybe not all the time,” Caelus answered, shrugging a shoulder as they stepped back to part. Stelle made some animated movements with her hands. “It’s great if you don’t count all the problems we have to solve. We actually 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 got back from solving another issue!”

“Really?” Phainon asked, and the gray haired pair wasted no time in recalling everything about their expeditions. Mydei stood to the side, picking up a few words.

“Not that much of a talker either?” he turned his head to look at the person who asked. It was just the start of a conversation from Dan Heng, if he remembered his name correctly. “Me neither.”

“As long as they get their words out, I suppose,” he answered, crossing his arms over his chest and returning his gaze to Phainon, who was laughing at something Caelus had said. “I could never deal with 𝘵𝘸𝘰 Phainon’s.”

“I have no idea how we do it either,” Dan Heng sighed, leaning back against the wooden doorway to the inside of the ship. “You grow used to it, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Mydei repeated with a short nod. The story seemed to go on for ages, and Mydei kept himself entertained conversing with Dan Heng or Welt when suddenly, Stelle dragged Phainon past him.

“We also found this Death Song! She was really injured, but we patched her up. We don’t know if she can stay with us though, so we were wondering if you guys could take her in,” she explained, Phainon nodding all the while. Mydei decided to follow them to see for himself.

Below deck was darker, the only light coming from small windows in the sides of the ship. The ship rocked gently with the waves, but it wasn’t enough to warrant the need to hold onto something. They passed a sleeping Hobblegrunt, and a Zippleback and Snow Wraith that were eating some fish. Dan Heng, the twins, and March’s dragons. Stopping near the back, Mydei peered over Phainon’s tense shoulder.

The Death Song didn’t seem to be doing bad, though there was still a splint on her left wing. She looked up when they noticed them, her eyes zeroing in on Phainon. She pushed herself upright and stepped closer, pushing her head against Phainon’s stomach to nudge him. He could only absently pet over her head.

“Wow, she wasn’t this affectionate with us,” Caelus commented, but Phainon didn’t give a reply. Mydei went to stand beside him to see his face. Of all things, he hadn’t expected to see shock written all over Phainon’s features.

“Where..” Phainon started after a few moments, clearing his throat to get the sudden hoarseness out. “Where did you find her?”

“To the south, I don’t think the archipelago had a name,” Stelle answered. “There wasn’t much life, it was as if there had been a giant fire that burned everything.”

Phainon remained quiet, then. Mydei figured there was more to this, that Phainon knew this Death Song somehow. Perhaps it had to do with the past he so insistently refused to talk about. He didn’t even look up when Mem came from above the deck, flying over to the Death Song and crawling all over her like they were reunited after years of separation. Mydei assumed it must’ve been something like that.

“She can stay here,” he said, turning back to Stelle and Caelus. Phainon still seemed dazed, petting the Death Song as if he was moving on autopilot. “We can make a place for her.”

“Thank you,” Caelus nodded, to which Stelle added. “We just need her to stay somewhere until she heals up, but I know you wouldn’t have any issues if she ends up wanting to leave.”

“I’ll go get Nikador and then we’ll move her to the stables,” Mydei placed a hand on Phainon’s shoulder, though the touch didn’t pull him out of his own head. When there was no response, Mydei sighed and went back up to do just that.

Moving the Death Song hadn’t been a hard task. She looked like she understood their intentions, and so she allowed Nikador to pick her up and carry her to the stables. By then, the crew of the Astral Express got themselves ready to move out once more, waving both of them goodbye as they sailed into the distance.

Phainon hadn’t said a single word since he saw the white dragon. Both he and Mem hadn’t strayed from her side, and even Kephale began acting the same way. Despite wanting, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 answers, Mydei left Phainon on his own. He’d talk when he was ready, and Mydei would have to respect that and give him the space to do so.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

When the sun began lowering in the sky again, Mydei returned to the stables with food for both of them. He’d taken the brunt of Aglaea’s scolding, the fields they had crashed into that morning having taken some damage, but she ultimately let him go when he explained why he had to go back to the stables. He walked over to Phainon, who was sitting cross-legged near the now sleeping Death Song, and gently kicked him with his foot.

“I brought dinner,” he informed. “Come outside to eat. You’ve been in here for hours.”

Phainon didn’t move immediately, and Mydei was already prepared to physically drag him outside. Before he could, Phainon got up, dusting off his pants with a small ‘alright’.

Outside, Mydei sat down near the field of dragonnip, placing his own plate on his lap and handing Phainon’s over when the other man joined him on the ground. They ate their meals in silence, not feeling the need to speak yet despite the sombre tone. Only when they put their empty plates down did Phainon finally say something.

“I know that dragon,” he spoke, barely audible over the wind rustling through the grass. “Her name is Oronyx. She’s from my hometown.”

He had heard Phainon mention his hometown briefly a few times. It was always when he introduced himself, never during anything else. And he had never elaborated on it. ‘It’s just a small village in the south,’ he always said.

“You never talk about Aedis Elysiae,” Mydei commented, nearly missing the slight look of surprise on Phainon’s face. He likely hadn’t expected Mydei to remember its name.

A foolish assumption. Mydei could hardly forget anything Phainon told him.

“There’s not much to talk about,” he murmured, gaze sliding back to the horizon. “A small village in the south. That’s all it ever was.”

“Was?”

“Yeah..” he paused, looking conflicted. For a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, this was the one thing he had never revealed anything about. Although, by the use of past tense, Mydei could assume why that was.

“You don’t have to tell me if you wish not to,” he said. He had never pushed Phainon to speak of his past, of his struggles, and he wouldn’t start now. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

“No, I.. I want to tell you,” Phainon turned back to him, but his eyes couldn’t meet Mydei’s. “I.. want to tell someone..”

Mydei didn’t comment, didn’t say anything. He only reached out to cover Phainon’s hand with his own, hoping it would be interpreted as a reassuring touch. He wanted Phainon to know that he was there for him.

And after a few deep breaths, Phainon let the dam break.

Chapter 9: No More Tears to Cry

He told Mydei all of it.

Every detail was laid bare. About Cyrene. About how they’d met their dragons. About how they shared one last evening meal. About how Phainon had gone into the wheat fields to practice his sword skills, not knowing those wouldn’t be enough only minutes later. About how the smoke had filled his lungs, and about how he had screamed and cried. About how he thought everyone he loved was dead as Kephale carried him and Mem to safety, and about how he had ended up at Okhema.

Mydei knew all of it now.

And he hadn’t gotten up and left.

Phainon managed to hold back on crying for now, despite the pressing feeling behind his eyes. He didn’t want Mydei to worry too much, didn’t want anyone to worry too much. He was a protector, he wasn’t weak, he wasn’t.

𝘚𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

Mydei still hadn’t said anything, and Phainon wasn’t sure if he wanted him to. Comfort was not his strong suit, they both knew that very well. But the hand that moved to rest on his shoulder did more than words ever could.

A silent reminder that Mydei was there, that he hadn’t left him when he was most vulnerable. That he didn’t leave Phainon to wallow in his own head.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he eventually said, deep voice softer around the edges in a way neither of them ever thought possible.

“It’s not your fault,” Phainon replied. He hated the crack in his voice and pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes like he could physically push back his tears. “It’s only 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳'𝘴.”

The men who had come to raid that night, the men who had turned his beloved home into a pile of ash and left everything drenched in blood.

“I know,” Mydei whispered. Phainon pushed down the idea to tease him for the softness in his voice. Now wasn’t the right time.

Then, “If you need to cry, then cry. There’s no one here but you and me.”

To say Phainon was dumbfounded would be an accurate description. Eyes widened slightly, looking at Mydei with a parted mouth but unable to respond with words. When he finally found those again, he stammered.

“Mydei, I don’t-”

“You do. So don’t hold back.”

Mydei looked at him with an intensity that made Phainon want to cower. He wanted nothing more than to cry, to scream, to tear something apart.

“Are you afraid I can’t take it?” Mydei added after Phainon’s lack of response. “I’ve been by your side for years now. I can handle all sides of you, the good and the bad.”

But Phainon still had no idea what he should’ve said. Anything that came to mind seemed unfit for the situation, and he was sure he’d regret all the words he’d say afterwards.

Mydei’s sigh was the only warning Phainon received before he was pulled closer, arms wrapped around him to ensure he couldn’t escape the embrace. And that was all it took for Phainon to finally, just like that, break down in tears.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Neither knew how long Phainon cried. The sun had long since set, and no one had passed by to remind them of the time. Mydei hadn’t moved away, hadn’t shown any signs of being uncomfortable. Phainon only wanted to cry more at that.

His throat was sore when he pulled away from Mydei’s embrace, wiping the remnants of tears from his face. All the while Mydei was silent, waiting until Phainon felt ready to speak again.

“I’m sorry,” he rubbed at his nose, blinking any remaining wetness from his eyes.

“For what?” Mydei’s voice was still quiet, still soft. Like Phainon would shatter if he spoke any louder.

“For.. that,” Phainon answered. “I usually don’t let other people see me like that.”

“I figured as much,” came the reply. “You carry too much on your shoulders. It was a matter of time before that weight would’ve crushed you.”

“What a way with words you have,” Phainon chuckled, internally cringing at how broken that sounded. Mydei shifted and stood up, but before Phainon could even begin to think he was leaving, a hand was offered to him.

“Come on,” Mydei pulled him up. “You need some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Right,” Phainon nodded, walking along with Mydei to the village. The way back was quiet, but it was comfortable rather than sad. Mydei hadn’t let go of his hand yet, but Phainon didn’t like the thought of losing that physical touch that grounded him.

“Mydei,” he said when they reached a hut that wasn’t his own. “I don’t live here.”

“I know,” Mydei nodded, not seeing any issue with it apparently. Of course Mydei knew, they’d been to Phainon’s hut and Phainon had been to Mydei’s. He had recognized the door when they stopped in front of it. “You can sleep here tonight if you want to.”

That had never been offered to him. Mydei’s 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 remained unsaid, and maybe it was better that way. Phainon decided it would be better to nod and go along with it.

He also didn’t want Mydei to leave him alone right now.

The hut was warm when they stepped inside, Mydei closing the door behind them. The curtains were left open, the moonlight enough to light their way. Mydei only released Phainon’s hand to grab them both something to wear for the night, and Phainon took the clothes with a nod of thanks.

“Where do I sleep?” he asked once he had changed into the surprisingly comfortable sleepwear. Mydei never wore a shirt outside, so Phainon wasn’t all that surprised to see that he also slept without one. The pointed finger at the bed made him pause.

“... What?”

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Mydei asked, but answered his own question before Phainon could even try. “I don’t have anywhere else for you to sleep. Besides, the bed is big enough for two. We’ll fit.”

Phainon shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sure, he’d gone to the hot springs with Mydei, and they had sparred until both were red-faced and panting, but sharing a bed was a different story.

“Are you.. sure?” he asked, but he already knew that was a stupid question. When had Mydei ever done something he wasn’t sure of?

“I am,” he replied, already sitting down on the mattress. “Come on. I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

Phainon sighed quietly, dragging his feet over to the bed. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to share a bed, he just didn’t want to think about the implications.

…

Hold on.

He didn’t mind sharing the bed? Did he think that right?

But he had already laid down with his head on the pillow, the blanket haphazardly thrown over both of them. Mydei was on his back, but his eyes were already closed, so he couldn’t see the storm of emotions crossing Phainon’s eyes. Even as the room grew as quiet as the village outside, the only sound coming from their breathing and the nightly noises of crickets and the sea, Phainon couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Safe to say that he didn’t catch much sleep that night.

Chapter 10: Against Her Word

Oronyx took no time to heal. Only three days had passed before the splint could be taken off her wing, and a few hours later she was already soaring through the sky with Kephale.

Phainon stood on the ground, letting the two dragons catch up after so many years apart. He had already spent enough time with Oronyx while she was recovering from her wing injury, so he let them have this moment.

The sound of rustling grass pulled his eyes away from the Oronyx and Kephale to instead look at Trinnon. He smiled gently at her, walking over to take the seemingly heavy bucket of fish from her.

“Thanks, Snowy,” the girl smiled back, walking together with Phainon to Janus and Polis’ stable. There was already a bucket there, but no dragon, so he assumed the food was for when Trinnon’s sisters would return from a flight. “I see Oronyx has been doing well?”

“She’s doing great,” Phainon nodded as he set the bucket down. “I bet she was dying to stretch her wings again. I’m glad she’s doing okay.”

Trinnon definitely picked up on the somber undertone in Phainon’s voice. Despite still being rather young, the triplets were much smarter than anyone initially assumed. “She’s from your hometown, isn’t she?”

Phainon paused. There was no use denying it; everyone probably already assumed something like that. “Yeah..”

“Snowy,” Trinnon started, and he could already hear the accusation in her tone no matter how sweetly she spoke. “Please don’t do anything rash, okay? Come talk to someone before you go out to look for more survivors. Please?”

Phainon looked back up at Oronyx and Kephale, still flying high enough that their shadows didn’t reach the grass. “I’ll try.”

He missed the conflicted look on Trinnon’s face, only heard her small ‘see you at dinner’ before she left.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

“I want to go look for her,” Phainon said, both hands placed on the table. Aglaea regarded him with her usual indifferent expression. “I 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 to go look for her.”

“For who, Phainon?” she asked, her arms crossed as she raised a brow.

“Cyrene,” he replied. His finger impatiently tapped on the wooden surface. “She’s my friend, from Aedis Elysiae.”

“I thought you said everyone in Aedis Elysiae was gone,” a rare trace of empathy laced Aglaea’s words. “How would Cyrene still be alive?”

“Because that Death Song, Oronyx? That’s her dragon,” Phainon could hardly contain the desperate tone in his voice. “She’s still out there, I know she is. Please, Aglaea. I have to find her.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” the chief asked. “I can’t let you take all the riders with you. Okhema would be near defenseless, Anaxagoras and I can only hold back foes for so long.”

“Then let me go alone-”

“Absolutely not,” she denied instantly, standing up from her chair. “You will not go on this wild goose chase on your own.”

Seeing Phainon’s dejected posture, she reached over to place a hand on his shoulder.

“You can look for her later,” Aglaea tried to sound reassuring. “When you have an actual plan and aren’t working on emotions.”

Phainon stared at her for a few seconds, more protests ready on his tongue. But he only sighed, nodding. “Alright,” he mumbled, turning and walking out of the great hall.

A short silence followed after Phainon shut the doors, the only noise coming from the crackling of the torches illuminating the large room.

“You know he’s just going to leave regardless, right?” Mydei asked, walking out from behind the support beam he was hiding.

“I know,” Aglaea turned to him. “Which is why you will go and stop him.”

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

The night was quiet, and Phainon’s footsteps sounded much louder than they actually were to his own ears. He’d tried making it through dinner without looking too off. He had even challenged Mydei to another spar for the next day.

A spar that would have to be postponed until Phainon returned.

The stable doors opened quietly, thanks to the meticulous care put into the building. Most of their dragons were asleep, but Phainon had talked about this to Kephale and Oronyx after Trinnon left. The Stormcutter opened his eyes when Phainon approached.

“Come on,” he whispered, stepping aside to let Kephale leave the stables and then going to where the Death Song laid. “Pss, Oronyx. We’re leaving.”

With a quiet, cat-like noise, Oronyx opened her eyes and stretched her back. Tucking her wings close to her body, she slipped past Phainon to sneak after Kephale.

Outside, the moon and stars were the only light Phainon had to get Kephale’s saddle on. Adjusting the straps under his sternum, he made sure the bag he’d packed for the journey was secure.

“Going somewhere, Deliverer?”

Phainon almost jumped out of his own skin. How had he not heard Mydei approach? Or maybe he hadn’t approached at all..

“Did you really wait there to scare me?” he asked, tipping his head back to properly look at the figures on the roof of the stables. Phainon hadn’t even noticed that Nikador wasn’t in his stable, instead hiding somewhere until he could climb atop the roof and startle the shit out of Phainon.

“I know you well enough by now,” Mydei started, stepping forward to drop to the ground. He walked closer to Phainon and folded his arms. “To know you’d do something like this.”

Phainon huffed and turned back to Kephale. “Whatever Aglaea told you to do, it won’t work. I’m going, Mydei. Whether you support that or not, I don’t care. I have to do this.”

“Look at you, finally thinking about yourself for once,” Mydei stepped to stand at Phainon’s side. “But I didn’t come here to stop you, however foolish this plan of yours is.”

“Then why did you come here?” Phainon asked dryly. “To wave me goodbye? I appreciate it.”

Mydei sighed and shook his head, pointing his thumb back at Nikador. Phainon glanced over, but his eyes widened in surprise. The titanwing already had his saddle on, an extra bag attached on the back.

“You..”

“I’m coming with you,” Mydei informed, and his tone left no room for protest. Not that Phainon had any words to say. “Someone will have to watch your back, right?”

He couldn’t even get a word in before Mydei had already gotten onto Nikador’s back, settling in the saddle and taking the reins. When Phainon still didn’t move, he tilted his head to the side. “Well?”

That single word pulled Phainon out of his confusion, shaking his head and tightening the bag straps one final time. Kephale lowered his head to let Phainon climb on, then moved so it would be easier to take off. Mydei held out a hand.

“After you,” he simply gestured.

Taking a deep breath, Phainon looked at Oronyx. “Go on. Lead us back to Cyrene.”

The Death Song cooed, then made a short sprint before jumping up and flapping her wings. Kephale and Nikador followed her lead, and Okhema grew ever smaller behind them.

“We are going to be in so much trouble with Aglaea when we get back,” Phainon grinned, glancing sideways at Mydei. He seemed to share the sentiment.

“She’ll turn around when she sees we got back with your friend,” he smiled back. Phainon couldn’t help the warm feeling from swelling up in his chest. Mydei was confident that they would succeed. It only solidified Phainon’s determination.

Okhema soon disappeared far behind them, but they would return soon. Phainon was sure of it.

Chapter 11: Useful

Notes:

Depending on my wifi situation Wednesday, the next chapter might be postponed to Saturday. I figured I'd warn you guys beforehand

The scent of rust hung thick in the air. She hadn’t dared touch the bars, for she didn’t want to risk an infection. Dying slowly to tetanus in a dark cell was not how she planned to go out. At least the little Hobgobbler in the corner would keep her company.

The loud clang of metal on metal made her look up, blue eyes no doubt dull. The guard unlocked the celldoor, stepping inside to roughly pull her up by her arm. She didn’t say a word as she was escorted through the dirty corridors. She’d learned long ago that speaking unprovoked only brought more trouble.

The iron chain dome over the sand circle gave no shelter to the sweltering sun. Dragons in cages were suffering under the relentless heat, no water within reach. Whenever one would act out, a guard would be quick to shut them up with a hit of the blunt side of their weapon.

They stopped in the center of the arena. Before them stood a man she had never seen before. The upper half of his face was covered by a mask, but she could see his white hair. It was so different from the tint she missed so dearly. His attire was similar to that of the soldiers, but she doubted she could ever see black robes in a good light again. Not after they had eradicated Aedis Elysiae.

“Commander Lygus,” the guard bowed his head, but he was ignored.

“You must be Cyrene,” the tall man spoke, circling around her. Cyrene only followed him with her eyes. “I’ve heard of you. You’ve done wonders with these dragons.”

“I wonder why that is,” she said, and the guard that had escorted her tightened his grip on her arm in warning. The commander only hummed.

“I know that our methods are.. not to your liking,” he stood back in front of her. “But we are not gentle people.”

“Well maybe you should be,” Cyrene looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “These dragons are creatures made of flesh and blood. They aren’t machines for you to use and discard.”

She assumed the only reason she still had her head was the hand Lygus lifted. The guard lowered his axe.

“No,” the black-clad man simply said. He turned on his heel, leisurely stepping towards a caged Thunderclaw. The dragon growled, pupils slitted as they focused on the threat. “Don’t you see? We are superior to them. They are merely beasts we can use, like cattle. We are the smarter race, are we not?”

“Don’t you dare compare me to you,” Cyrene clenched her fists. She had been angry for many years now, but it had never been this hard to control. “These dragons are a thousand times more compassionate than you will ever be.”

“Compassionate?” Lygus huffed a laugh, though Cyrene failed to see the humor in the situation. “They burn down villages, steal our food. They act out of greed and destruction.”

“They are trying to survive,” Cyrene protested, taking a defiant step closer before the guard could grab her shoulder to stop her. “You’re the one acting out of greed.”

“These beasts are useless unless man gives them a task,” Lygus hadn’t left the Thunderclaw’s side, regarding the animal like it was a lamb for the slaughter. “Which is where I come in.”

“You are a selfish bastard,” Cyrene hissed. “You can’t use them for your own goals, you have no right to take control of their lives!”

Lygus merely chuckled, turning back to face Cyrene. “I already am,” he said. “And you are helping me do it.”

Her fists clenched so tight her knuckles were white. She had been forced to calm dragons down, essentially train them and make them more pliant, for the years after she was taken from her homeland. She had unwillingly aided this man in whatever goal he wanted to achieve. She had helped him create a dragon army, and she just now found it out.

“Now now, don’t look so upset,” Lygus continued. “You are part of something great. Your ability to read dragons and control them is the whole reason you are here. It’s why we attacked your little village.”

Cyrene could feel her blood boil, and it wasn’t because of the sun. She gritted her teeth and rushed forward, lifting her fist to punch him across the face.

Her wrist was caught, and the stone walls of the arena spun around her right before she was pinned against the Thunderclaw’s cage. Lygus’ arm pressed against the back of her neck, keeping her there.

“Go ahead, show me how you do it,” he taunted right next to her ear. She wanted to recoil in disgust. “Or do I have to send my men out to find your Death Song?”

Cyrene froze. Lygus chuckled again, a grating noise to her ears.

“You think we didn’t know?” he continued. “I know you tried escaping a few weeks ago. I know one of my soldiers hit that beast’s wing with the catapult. I know they found you, but no trace of that little butterfly. It would be a shame if we captured her again, just because you refuse to cooperate, hm?”

Cyrene scoffed. “Like you wouldn’t do that regardless.”

“You have my word,” came the answer, but she wasn’t sure how fully she believed that. It was better than the guarantee that Oronyx would be hunted down again, though.

Slowly, Cyrene reached out her hand through the dragonproof metal. The Thunderclaw began growling again, baring its teeth. Cyrene shushed it gently.

“It’s alright,” she spoke softly, trying and somewhat succeeding in ignoring the arm pressing her to the cage. “I won’t hurt you.”

The Thunderclaw hesitantly leaned closer, smelling Cyrene’s fingers. She didn’t move, allowing it to choose if it wanted her to touch it. A few minutes passed before she felt warm scales press against the backs of her fingers.

“There we go,” she murmured, smiling softly despite their positions. She gently ran her hand over the dragon’s snout. “You’re okay.”

“Incredible,” Lygus behind her said, and Cyrene had almost forgotten he was even there. She sighed in relief when he stepped back, releasing her. “See, this is why I need you. None of my men have this patience.”

Cyrene didn’t turn back, not yet, just petting the Thunderclaw to calm it down. “I’d rather you kill me.”

“There is no need for such rash decisions, my dear Cyrene,” she could hear the smile in the commander’s tone. She wanted to gag. “You will be very useful to me.”

She glared over her shoulder. “Go to hell.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lygus grinned, and Cyrene didn’t like his expression one bit. “You’re already there.”

Chapter 12: Beneath the Raining Clouds

Notes:

These bitches so gay
Good for them, good for them

Mydei had flown through storms before. He knew how unrelenting the rain was, how treacherous the winds could be. How it felt when you could see nothing but endless gray ahead and the dark blue ocean beneath.

“We need to land,” Phainon had said when they saw the ominous clouds in the distance. Oronyx had led them in this direction, but even she looked like she’d rather be anywhere but in this weather.

But there had been no land in sight for hours now, and Mydei wasn’t sure how many more they’d have to fly.

He wiped the water from his eyes for what must’ve been the hundredth time, only for the rain to pour back over his face. Phainon wasn’t faring any better, and all three dragons were looking for only one thing now; land.

As they say; hope springs eternal. Kephale let out a roar, then dove to his left. Oronyx and Nikador followed suit, and soon the silhouette of a strong structure came into view. It was barren and devoid of any vegetation, but there was a hollow in the side that looked like it’d fit them all. Kephale was the first to enter, opening his mouth to light a stagnant flame for light. Phainon and Mydei slid from their backs onto the stones to let the dragons shake the rain off their scales.

“It’s better than nothing,” Phainon shrugged. Mydei assumed his optimism came from the fact that he finally had a lead to find his friend. He nodded in agreement.

“Let’s rest here until the storm lets up,” he said, rummaging through his bag and taking out some yak meat he had packed for the journey. He handed half of it to Phainon and they both sat down near the end of the cave. Kephale, Nikador and Oronyx all curled up to close their eyes while their riders kept an idle conversation going.

Mydei asked Phainon to talk about his homeland. Phainon’s eyes lit up as he told him all about Aedis Elysiae. About the golden wheat fields surrounding the huts, and the glittering sea stretching as far as the eye could see. Phainon spoke of the dream he had, to explore the world beyond. He laughed at his own sword practice, and how little he realized he really knew when he first began training with Castorice at Okhema.

He didn’t talk about the night he lost everything, and he didn’t need to. Mydei wanted him to sleep without those memories plaguing his mind.

They managed to catch a few hours of sleep while the storm raged outside.

 

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

The following days had consisted of about the same routine. They’d fish for breakfast, fly for a few hours, pause to get lunch if they could, and then continue until nightfall. Then they’d find the nearest place to sleep for the night before they continued. Some nights, the only protection they had against the wind were their dragons’ wings.

Their current stop was on a forested island. The weather had been kind to them during the day, but gray clouds were quickly rolling out from the west. They weren’t as dark as those from the first day, though, so they didn’t expect more than a small drizzle.

Phainon had gone out to collect some extra firewood while Mydei set it up, having Nikador light a small flame for when he got back. It would burn long enough for today’s fish to cook before the rain got to them, and hopefully the tree under which they sat would hold the droplets back a little longer.

Phainon returned a little while later, dropping the sticks he’d gathered nearby before sitting down next to Mydei. Mydei silently handed him some of the fish he’d already cooked.

“This is so good,” Phainon mumbled around a mouthful of food, like he had said every day when Mydei prepared dinner. “You should cook more often at Okhema. Where’d you even learn this stuff?”

“I help out in the kitchen occasionally, when I’m not busy,” Mydei shrugged, taking a bite from his own fish. When they finished eating, he prepared the next two, and handed the rest to the dragons.

The rain reached them shortly after, pouring down lightly. It was hardly worth seeking shelter from, even if Oronyx dramatically shook her head and moved to hang from one of the tree’s branches.

Phainon stood up, leaving the shelter the leaves provided to stand under the sky. He spread his arms, head tipped back to face the clouds, letting the rain drip down his skin.

“What are you doing?” Mydei asked, leaning back against the tree. Phainon gave a chuckle in response.

“I’m enjoying the rain,” he answered, turning his head to look back at Mydei. “I have a good feeling about this, Mydei. I couldn’t have made it this far without your support.”

Mydei’s chest tightened at that, but he pushed it down in favor of looking to the side. “Did you expect me to let you do this alone? HKS.”

That stupid grin still hadn’t left Phainon’s face. “You know, you keep calling me that, but you never told me what it means.”

“It means scoundrel,” Mydei sighed. “Or hyena, whichever translation you prefer.”

“Oh,” he ignored the twitch in Phainon’s brow. “I’m assuming that’s Kremnoan?”

“It is,” Mydei nodded. Looking back at Phainon, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt when he saw his arms had dropped a little. “I called you that in the beginning, back when I didn’t like you yet. It just stuck. I don’t mean it in a derogatory sense anymore.”

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

That seemed to lift Phainon’s spirit again. He smiled again, all traces of sadness gone. “Join me?”

Mydei raised a brow. “What?”

“Join me,” Phainon repeated, holding out a hand towards Mydei. He seemed so hopeful that he would, and Mydei couldn’t find a fibre in his being that wanted to refuse.

Slowly, he walked over, stepping into the rain that had evolved into a downpour. Phainon didn’t look like he cared. When Mydei got close enough, he took his hand, pulling him even closer. Before he could even think, Mydei had placed his hands on Phainon’s waist to steady himself. He decided not to comment on the brief smug look on the other’s face.

“Hi,” the bastard smiled dumbly.

“Hi,” Mydei, just as dumbly, repeated.

“Would you join me for a dance?” Phainon asked. Mydei failed to see where this came from, but once again, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He could only nod, and then allow Phainon to adjust his hand placement.

Phainon swayed them to a nonexistent tune, holding Mydei as if he were something fragile. Mydei only followed, he didn’t know enough about dancing to predict what Phainon was going to do next. He lifted his arm, then, still holding one of Mydei’s hands, and guided him into a turn. Then he pulled him close again, chest to chest, face to face.

“Isn’t there usually a dip in this dance?” he asked, earning another little laugh from Phainon.

“I’m still getting there,” he smiled, and the small squeeze he gave to his hand had no business making Mydei feel things. As he said, Phainon held Mydei to lean back into a dip. They stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other as the rain continued to fall around them.

“Thank you,” Phainon spoke softly, only for Mydei to hear. “For doing this with me. I appreciate it.”

“I’m dancing with you in the rain,” Mydei replied, fighting to keep the flush from reaching his ears from how close they were. “We’ve done far more strange things.”

“I know,” Phainon pulled him back up. “But still. I’m really glad you’re here with me, Mydei.”

The air grew heavy, and not because of the weather. Mydei made the mistake of briefly glancing down at Phainon's lips, but he saw Phainon do the exact same thing. Neither of them moved, but Phainon was the first to say something.

“We should probably sit back down,” he murmured. They still stood there, clothes drenched by now. Holding each other like they were the only thing that mattered. “Get some rest.”

“We probably should,” Mydei nodded in agreement. His tongue darted over his lips, and he didn’t miss the way it caught Phainon’s attention. “But you don’t want to. Do you?”

“No,” Phainon swallowed thickly, gaze trailing over Mydei’s face until they stopped on his eyes. “Can I..”

Mydei furrowed his brows when there was no elaboration. “Can you..?”

Phainon bit the inside of his cheek, then decided he should just throw it out before he could overthink it. Mydei almost didn’t understand a word with how quickly it was blurted out. “Can I kiss you?”

Mydei paused, despite neither of them having moved so much as an inch for the past few minutes now. “.. What?”

He had to know if he heard it right. He had to know he didn’t imagine it.

“I want to kiss you, Mydeimos,” Phainon repeated, more clearly this time. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now. I just never had the courage to ask-”

Noticing the beginning of a ramble, Mydei quickly shut him up by pressing their lips together. Phainon froze, his grip on Mydei’s hand tightening ever so slightly, as if afraid squeezing any harder would hurt. Mydei pulled back, barely, their noses brushing together.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now, too,” he said quietly. He could almost see and hear the gears turning in Phainon’s brain, trying to catch up to the situation. He knew he processed it when his eyes lit up.

Mydei had never seen such a beautiful shade of blue.

“Mydei,” he murmured, the fingers on his waist twitching before he lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from Mydei’s face. “I.. don’t know what to say.”

“I figured,” Mydei leaned his face into the touch, just a little. “For someone who talks a lot, you get flustered easily.”

Phainon let out a low noise that sounded a suspicious lot like a whine, leaning his head forward to rest it on Mydei’s shoulder. “You’re so mean, Mydei.”

“Yeah yeah, I like you too, idiot,” Mydei carded his free hand through soaked white hair. “But we’re going to get sick if we stay under the rain much longer. Come on.”

It seemed to take a lot of willpower on Phainon’s part to pull away, but he never once let go of Mydei’s hand. Not that he minded. They returned to the shelter of the tree, near the now extinguished fire. The sky had darkened by that time, though the moon was obscured by clouds. Leaning sideways against each other, Phainon idly traced his fingers over Mydei’s hand.

“So,” he spoke up after a while. “What are we now?”

Mydei had to think about that. They’d been friends and rivals for the past few years, but this was something new for both of them.

“How about partners?” he answered, looking at Phainon and the way his eyes brightened.

“I like partners,” the white haired man nodded, lacing their fingers together. He leaned his head on Mydei’s shoulder, sighing wistfully. “Good night then, partner.”

Mydei rolled his eyes, but he let Phainon rest against him. After a while, he leaned his head on Phainon’s. “Good night, Phainon.”

He missed the way Phainon smiled right before they fell asleep.

Chapter 13: Salvation

The lands before them were barren, devoid of any shade of green. It was like Stelle had described; as if a giant fire had burned through, leaving everything a dry mix of dirt and ash.

“Looks cozy,” Phainon commented, looking through his telescope. They’d landed a few minutes ago on a higher point of the island, where they had a visual of what seemed to be an arena settled near the coast. “Think we can waltz in and ask if they’ve seen Cyrene?”

“If you think that armada and those guards look welcoming, you’re free to go ahead and try,” Mydei answered from beside him. “It looks like a private operation, no guests allowed in or out.”

“They have dragons in cages there,” Phainon noted. “Big ones. I can see a Thunderclaw and a Rumblehorn.”

Mydei hummed next to him, holding a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “We’ll have to either sneak in or infiltrate whatever operation this is.”

Phainon’s response was a nod, and he continued scouring over the settlement to see if he could spot anything. This was where Oronyx had led them, but she refused to go any closer than this. They both could guess why.

“Cyrene is probably held somewhere there,” Phainon pointed at an entrance in the side of the sand circle. “We just have to get her and then free those dragons.”

“We might not have the chance for that, Phainon,” Mydei frowned. “It’s a miracle Oronyx even got out of there in the first place.”

“We can’t just leave them there,” Phainon lowered his telescope to look at the other man. “Whatever they’re using those dragons for, it’s definitely not something good.”

“We’ll try,” Mydei reassured. “But you have to accept that we might not have enough time. We’re only two men and three dragons against all of that,” he motioned at the settlement.

Phainon sighed and sat back. “I know. I just want to help them.”

“We will,” Mydei’s hand came to rest on Phainon’s knee, the gesture soothing some of his nerves. “But we need a plan first. Come on.”

~~~~~☆~~~~~

 

Night had fallen over the island, and their boots crunched on the gravel they walked on despite their efforts to stay quiet. They stopped near the docks of the settlement, a few people still on duty. One of them looked up, and Phainon didn’t need to know who he saw when he yelled, “Dragon!”

With most men’s attention on Nikador soaring above, roaring to catch their attention, Phainon and Mydei only had to wait. The soldiers grabbed their arrows, bolas and nets, calling out to their colleagues to come and help. Mydei had reassured Phainon that Nikador would be fine; he had Kephale and Oronyx as backup if the need came.

When enough men had left their post to go after the titanwing they saw, Phainon and Mydei snuck in through the now unattended gate. The hallways were empty, illuminated by torches on the wall.

“Good luck,” Mydei whispered, branching off to get to the sand circle. He would free as many dragons there as he could while Phainon searched for Cyrene.

His footsteps echoed and the torches crackled, but other than that, Phainon himself was the only sign of life. The dragons he passed were on a smaller scale, but a Speed Stinger was still dangerous, so Phainon was careful when he forced open the lock to set the two of those free. He didn’t wait to watch them sprint off towards their freedom.

Scouring the hallways, his frustration grew when he saw no indications of people being held there. The hallway stopped with a dead end, and Phainon could either return from the way he came or go out via the door on his right, where he would end up in the arena. He rushed out towards Mydei, who was calming down the Rumblehorn they’d seen that afternoon.

“I can’t find her,” he explained quietly. Mydei placed his hand on the Rumblehorn’s snout before he broke the lock and set it free. He then pointed to another door.

“The corridor is split into three parts. The guards sleep there,” he moved his hand to gesture at a different gate. “I think there’s still some cells in there.”

“Thank you,” if there was time, Phainon would kiss him. Instead, he forced himself to run where Mydei pointed, set on finding Cyrene.

Like Mydei said, there were indeed more cages there. Most were empty, the majority of the dragons kept in the sand circle, but he still freed the Night Terrors and juvenile Typhoomerang when he spotted them.

The hallway’s dead end appeared from the curve, and Phainon felt his hope plummet. If Cyrene wasn’t here, he’d have to check the third corridor, where all the remaining guards were. He would be too nervous to keep them asleep.

He reached the final cell, spotting the tiny Hobgobbler near the bars. It was certainly small enough to crawl through them if it wanted to. He frowned.

“Phainon?”

And then he could feel his breath catch.

Once vibrant blue eyes were dull. Her pink hair was matted, clothes torn and dirty. Her voice was hoarse. But she was there.

“Cyrene..”

“Phainon,” she repeated, pushing herself upright to walk over to the bars. She held the iron, unable to get closer with the barrier between them. “You found me..”

“You’re alive,” he couldn’t raise his voice any higher than a whisper. “I didn’t, I can’t- you’re 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.”

“We don’t have much time,” Cyrene urged. “Whatever distraction they have won’t keep all the guards away for long.”

“Right,” Phainon nodded, snapped out of his daze. He used his sword to destroy the lock, opening the cell. Cyrene stepped into the hallway, and Phainon couldn’t wait any longer to hug her tight. Words couldn’t describe his relief now that he finally could hold her again.

“We have to go,” Cyrene stepped back. “They’ll be back.”

“Come on,” Phainon took Cyrene’s hand to pull her along, only to stop when she stumbled. They couldn’t waste any more time, so he got her on his back and ran to where Mydei was freeing the last dragon in the arena.

“Mydei, let’s go!” he called out. The lock he was working on cracked, and the titanwing Razorwhip inside pushed it open with its own snout. The light of the moon and torches shone off its metallic hide when it lowered its head to nudge Mydei.

“We don’t have much time,” Cyrene spoke from where Phainon held her on his back. “He’ll get here any second now-”

Interrupted by a loud clang of metal, all three of them turned to the gate that had fallen shut. The Razorwhip roared, sending a bright blue blast in its direction, but it only made a dent in the metal.

“I was wondering where that Triple Stryke had come from,” a voice spoke from behind them. Phainon could feel Cyrene tense on his back. “They don’t usually spend time around these parts. Few dragons do.”

Phainon lowered Cyrene so she could stand and so he could unsheathe his sword. Mydei flexed his hands, gauntlets reflecting the fire from the torches. The white haired man before them didn’t look impressed.

“Your efforts are.. admirable,” he spoke, leisurely circling around them and the Razorwhip. “Never have I seen anyone put so much effort into freeing all these beasts, nor have I seen anyone succeed. I must give you some credit for that, I suppose.”

“Just let us go,” Phainon replied, the grip he had on the handle of his sword tightening. “We don’t want any more trouble.”

“You caused enough trouble by setting all these dragons loose. You undid weeks worth of effort for my men,” the man sighed. “But I suppose that Triple Stryke and the Stormcutter will make up for that.”

Both Phainon and Mydei froze. Outside the arena, they could hear the roars of both their dragons. They sounded angry.

“You two can leave if you wish,” the man stepped forward, pausing only because the Razorwhip hit its tail on the ground before his feet and growled. “But unfortunately, she will have to stay behind.”

Phainon didn’t need to look at her to know he gestured at Cyrene. He stood in front of her, blocking her from this man’s view. “Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” the man shrugged, hands folding behind his back. The soldiers that stayed behind came rushing out of the hallways, surrounding them all. They didn’t give them a second before attacking.

With two men, Cyrene unable to fight and a single dragon, their odds didn’t seem to be in their favor. Phainon knew Mydei could handle himself, so he focused on keeping Cyrene safe from the axes and swords coming towards them. The Razorwhip used its tail and fire to keep the majority of attackers at bay, their weapons barely making a dent in its armored hide.

Phainon could feel the strain on his body, could feel bruises forming where he was hit. Stray cuts bled into his clothes, but Cyrene was unharmed, and that was all that mattered to him. Kicking another soldier back, sending them stumbling into a few others, he turned to face off against the next one.

Only to stand face to face with their leader.

He blocked the first strike of his sword, pushed it back and aimed a swing at his legs. The attack was evaded with a grace Phainon hadn’t expected nor had time to dwell on. He would have to overwhelm him if he wanted to win, so he continuously landed hits, most of them blocked but some would graze the man’s skin.

“Impressive,” he complimented, blocking yet another attack. “You would have made a fine addition to our troops.”

“To hell with you,” Phainon hissed, pushing the man backwards. He frowned, but the words didn’t stop him. “Wait.. our?”

The man chuckled. “Do you think I can do this all on my own? My superiors have many more bases like these. We are everywhere.”

Phainon managed to work him against the stone wall of the sand circle. Keeping him pinned, but not doing much more. “How many?”

“Too many for you to comprehend,” the man answered. “This is only a small piece of Their plan. You are powerless to stop it.”

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘤, he realized. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳.

“Where are they?” he inched his blade closer to the man’s throat. “Your superiors. Where are they?”

“Somewhere you’ll never find,” the man grinned. Phainon wanted nothing more than to slice his throat. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not before he got Cyrene, Mydei, and all the dragons to safety.

And then he could focus on tearing this organization to the ground

Chapter 14: Deliverer

Notes:

One more chapter to go yippee

All of the soldiers were either knocked out or fleeing. Mydei rushed towards the gate, pulling it open to let the Razorwhip go. He gave the titanwing a nod, which was acknowledged with a nudge before the metallic dragon took to the skies where it belonged.

He turned back to see where Phainon was, spotting him at the edge of the sand circle, pinning the man who started this to the stone. The clouds above were gray, blocking out the morning sun and sending a light rain over them.

He walked closer, helping Cyrene stay upright. “Phainon?”

But he wasn’t heard. Phainon kept his sword at the man’s throat, his entire posture tense. Mydei strained his ears to hear what he was saying.

“I want you to bring a message to your superiors,” Phainon hissed. “Tell them that there is nowhere they can run, nowhere they’ll be safe. Tell them that Phainon of Aedis Elysiae is coming for them, and that he will leave the grounds soaking in their blood.”

Next to him, Cyrene froze up. Neither of them had ever heard Phainon say something like that, never heard him use that tone. There was nothing but hatred in his voice.

Mydei couldn’t hear the man’s reply. When Phainon stepped back, he slumped to the ground, exhausted but alive. Phainon turned and walked back to them, helping Cyrene onto his back so they could leave. By that time, Nikador and Kephale had dealt with the guards on their tails, and met them just outside the arena’s gates.

They returned to where Oronyx waited. Cyrene hugged the Death Song tight, but Mydei only had eyes for Phainon. The rain and wind was picking up when they flew up, turning back in the direction where Okhema was waiting for their return. The flight was quiet, save for the storm that followed them back home.

When they arrived, Phainon still hadn’t said a word. They dropped Cyrene off at the healers, letting Hyacine make sure she was okay and give her the medical attention she needed. Mydei wanted to go report back to Aglaea, but when Phainon went back to the stables, he followed after him instead. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

The storm still carried on in the skies above, rain falling down around them. The grass around the stables was slippery. He got closer to Phainon, standing silently in the middle of it, uncaring for the water making his clothes cling to his skin and his hair stick to his face.

Mydei didn’t like it when Phainon was quiet. And he was never this quiet for this long.

“Phainon-”

“We can’t win this, Mydei,” Phainon’s knuckles were white with how hard he clenched his fists. “I have to destroy it all.”

“What?”

Phainon didn’t turn. “This is much bigger than we thought it was. This- Cyrene, those dragons, it was only the beginning. Who knows how many people they murdered, or how many they will murder? How many dragons they used or will use?”

“What do you want to do about it?” Mydei asked. He stood close enough to reach out and take Phainon’s hand, but he didn’t dare. Not yet.

“I want to tear it apart,” Phainon still stared into the distance they came from. “I’m 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 to tear it apart.”

“Then we will,” Mydei replied. He wanted nothing more than to do the same, but acting impulsively wasn’t the way to do it. “We just have to come up with a plan and then-”

“No.”

Mydei paused. “.. No?”

“No, Mydei,” Phainon finally faced him. “I have to go now. I’ll waste too much time making a plan for something we know nothing about.”

Mydei didn’t like the way Phainon was talking like he’d do it alone. The rain continued to grow heavier, thunder rumbling right above their heads.

“I can help you,” he said. “Just let me help you.”

“No, Mydei.”

“You can’t do this on your own, Phainon!” Mydei argued. “What happened to having each other’s back?”

“I have to!” the bastard insisted, pushing his white hair back and out of his face. “You need to stay behind and protect the others, it’s the only way!”

“That can’t be it! There has to be something else we can do!” the thunder roared above them along with Mydei’s voice. “You can’t do this!”

“I can!”

“Quit it with this savior complex, Phainon!” Mydei crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Phainon with narrowed eyes. “You’ll burn yourself to the ground trying to do this on your own! You’re one man, you can’t save everyone!”

“I must,” Phainon’s voice was quiet now, barely audible over the heavy weather. Mydei didn’t know what to say for a good few moments.

“So you’re leaving me behind?” he didn’t mean for it to come out as sharply as it did. He already regretted it when could see the way it stung Phainon the same way it did himself.

“I’m so sorry, Mydei,” the hurt in his voice made his chest tighten. Phainon stepped closer, before Mydei could even open his mouth to say something, he cupped his face and pulled him into a deep kiss.

He hated how it tasted of goodbye.

“Take care of Okhema for me,” Phainon pressed one last, short kiss to Mydei’s lips. “I love you.”

Then, before Mydei could even begin arguing again, he turned and climbed back onto Kephale. Mydei got back to his senses when the Stormcutter flapped his wings, taking off into the air.

“Phainon!” he called out, quickly climbing into Nikador’s saddle to follow him. He shielded his eyes with his hand, trying to see through the relentless rain pelting down. The winds were too strong, and Nikador struggled flying straight.

“Phainon!” Mydei yelled, but his only response was the rumbles of thunder. “Phainon!!”

The skies remained gray. Neither Kephale nor Phainon could be seen through the haze. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get the chance to see them again.

Mydei screamed, and the storm cried with him.

Notes:

So how are we feeling