Chapter Text
As a Chrysos Heir, Phainon is no stranger to harm. The Flame Chase Journey was not for the weak-hearted.
When he was younger and newer to his duties, he often found himself at a clinic being berated for pushing himself too far — be it at training or in the actual battlefield.
He really hated being such a burden whenever he'd be dragged (often unwillingly) to be taken care of. He had been on the receiving end of Hyacine's lectures more times than he can count.
Luckily for him, the solution was straightforward. He should just take better care of himself. Less injuries and less time being sick meant less effort and resources wasted on him.
He pushed himself to improve with his training. The more skilled he was, the less injured he'd be. Of course, there were plenty of other reasons he pushed himself, Deliverer expectations, but this was one of the main motivators.
His self-care increased exponentially after meeting Mydei.
By the time the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos joined the Flame Chase, Phainon's combat prowess had grown to the point that not even the most experienced warriors of Okhema could get him to work up a sweat in the sparring ring. He was starting to worry that fighting the Black Tide would be his only option to keep in shape.
But lo and behold, as if Nikador was listening to his woes, Mydei became not only a comrade, but he was also a rival, an equal, his best friend.
At some point down the line, they became more than friends, but they both agreed that the Flame Chase took greater priority and settled for their ill-defined but undeniably close relationship. They were content with that. The benefits that came with such closeness only further intensified Phainon's exercise.
Phainon could explore every inch of that body if they didn't have so many responsibilities. Those muscles.
With exercise taken care of, his meals also got an unexpected upgrade. It's not like he ate unhealthily before. He's not stupid; he loved fixing salads for himself. It's just that the food Mydei prepared was undoubtedly better in every way. Filling, balanced, and extremely delicious.
Really, Phainon is in the best shape of his life. The Flame Chase might be at a lull at the moment, but there is no shortage of Titankin to defeat.
"This mission will be easy!" Phainon chuckles as he travels to the area they were sent to clear. "Hey Mydei, wanna bet to see who can defeat the most Titankin?"
His mission partner scowls. Gauntleted arms cross in front of a half-bared chest. Mydei looks ahead, surveying the area before turning back to Phainon.
"Hmph. As if you'll win, HKS."
Phainon laughs and brandishes his sword. With a wink as their only cue, both Chrysos Heirs get to work.
There's a rush he gets in the heat of battle. Today, he and Mydei fight side by side instead of splitting up. This particular temple was rather open. They had more than enough space to go back to back. Their teamwork survived much tighter conditions.
If Phainon was feeling particularly competitive, he'd throw out some ridiculous challenge to make their competition fiercer, but today, he opts for simplicity. It's fun to relax every once in a while.
But why is he sweating so much?
Every swing of Dawnmaker feels heavier than usual.
The Titankin today don't need much strategy to defeat. He can switch to muscle memory for that. And so he does, because now, his mental efforts go straight into figuring out what exactly is wrong with him.
It's early fall. With the cooling temperatures, there is no reason for him to feel as hot as he does, sweating even more. A fever, then?
No, that doesn't make sense either. His golden blood makes him more resilient against normal diseases.
An infection, maybe? He did usually take care of his own wounds. Maybe there was one that he missed.
But that doesn't explain the discomfort in his stomach. It started that morning, but he dismissed it as sleeping in the wrong position. He did some stretches and the cramping disappeared every time.
Did he eat something wrong? That isn't it, either. The only things he ate in the past day were the food that Mydei made. While it wasn't unheard of for the Prince to sabotage the meals prepared for him if he annoyed the Kremnoan a little bit too much, he wouldn't stoop as low as intentionally giving him food poisoning.
Dawnmaker clatters to the ground as Phainon braces himself against a more intact looking wall, his other arm pressed on his abdomen.
The unnatural sound immediately catches Mydei's attention. "What, getting scared, Deliverer?" Their usual, lighthearted banter. He usually would have a quip in response, if not for the ever increasing pressure from inside him.
"Haha, no," he says weakly. It sounds feeble even to him. He's too distressed to actually filter anything that comes out of his mouth. "Why does my stomach hurt?"
He looks towards Mydei, whose eyes narrow. Clearly, he picked up on the odd behavior. The Prince makes quick work of the three Titankin he's currently engaged with, sending them crashing off in the distance. The next moment, the blonde is by Phainon's side.
"What's wrong?"
Phainon grips Mydei's shoulders tightly, sweat dripping down his face, shaking terribly. "M-mydei… something is coming out."
Phainon barely registers complying with Mydei's orders to undress himself. He can't exactly examine to see what is wrong with him. Especially since the cramping is getting worse, and coming in more and more frequent waves.
Mydei directs him to sit by the wall as the Prince rifles through their first aid supplies.
With his coat laid across his lap, he can't help but feel the surging anxiety as Mydei examines him. He feels his heart drop hearing the Prince's sharp inhale.
"Wh-what's wrong? Am I going to die? Mydeiiiii! I'm too young to dieeeee! It hurts…"
"Shhh!" The blonde hisses, cutting off Phainon's overdramatic (or perhaps justified?) despair. "Do you want to attract all the Titankin here? You're giving birth. You're not fully ready yet. You're lucky I know how to assist."
"Huh?" He's what?
Phainon numbly watches as Mydei doffs his gauntlets, rushing off to where he hears a small stream is. He doesn't know where Mydei found the basin, but it's full of water now. The Kremnoan efficiently starts building a fire, before they both hear it.
Titankin nearby.
Mydei mutters under his breath, which Phainon understands to be some sort of Kremnoan curse that he (surprisingly) has not called Phainon yet.
Phainon starts to reach for Dawnmaker to stagger to stand before—
"Stay put, Deliverer. You are in no condition to be fighting."
And just like divine prophecy, another cramping seizes through his body as he slides back down the wall.
Mydei clicks his tongue. "I'll try to be as quick as I can. Concentrate on breathing, yell if anything hostile comes close. If you have a brain in your head, you will use it to stay put."
Mydei leaves no room for argument as he sets off to clear the area. Phainon decided to listen because… what? He's giving birth? He's pregnant?
One thing at a time. Mydei told him to breathe. He should breathe. In, and out. He should relax. He is relaxed. He isn't freaking out. He is not on the verge of hyperventilating.
Oh, who is he kidding? He isn't anywhere near ready to have a baby.
But… he did dream about it once. To have a child of his own. Before everything became complicated. The Black Tide, the prophecy, all of it left no room for personal desires. He could never have dealt with this on his own. The fact that Mydei is here makes it better, if not actually bearable. Truly, the blonde is a grounding anchor, a fortress of rationality, keeping him from spiralling out of control.
"Mydei, did you just submerge your arms into boiling water?"
The man in question does not react in the least as he withdraws his arms, bright red but already healing, and resumes examining Phainon.
"Unless you want to develop an infection, this is the best solution we have. We have a few minutes before the next wave arrives. Try to stay quiet."
"I can stay—" Phainon is cut off by a cramp, no, contraction, that's even more intense than previous. He almost splits his lip open with how harshly he's biting down to stop a ragged scream from tearing out of him.
Yeah, maybe he's going to listen to Mydei.
That's how they spend the next few hours. Mydei tends to him, before leaving to make sure that no Titankin get too close. When he returns, he submerges his hands in boiling water again before tending to Phainon.
It feels like an eternity passes. Phainon has no sense of time anymore. He sobs in relief when Mydei finally says he can push.
It hurts more than anything. But the pressure is finally going somewhere. The next thing he realizes, a squalling baby girl wrapped in crimson is placed in his arms.
After letting the shock of the entire situation settle, Mydei throws himself into a whirlwind of action. That's how Phainon perceives it, anyway.
He can clearly see those golden brows furrow as the Crown Prince uses his teleslate in one hand while gathering their meager belongings in the other.
The moment Phainon attempts to speak up to offer advice or assistance, it's like the Kremnoan anticipated it.
"Save your energy, Deliverer. If you want to help, keep hold of her and try to keep her quiet. Who knows if there are still Titankin that I haven't taken care of yet…"
Phainon doesn't try to pipe up after that. The worried expression on Mydei's face conveys so much more than words ever could. The fact that he was letting Phainon see his distress is more than telling.
A chilly breeze blows past. He frowns and looks down at the baby in his arms. Their baby. Reddened, with her face scrunched up from the sheer audacity of being out. Out of him. He pushed her out not that long ago. She's already wrapped up in Mydei's cloak, but is it warm enough? As warm as his body was?
Deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, he unwraps her from the cloak and maneuvers her so that she lays on his bare chest, under his shirt. He then wraps the cloak on top of it all. Are babies naturally this warm? She feels like a furnace on his chest.
He briefly worries that she's now too warm, but he's soon rewarded by a sleepy, satisfied gurgle. Her wrinkly face relaxes marginally. Phainon's heart melts right then and there. Task accomplished for the moment. He feels a bubble of pride. He will protect this baby with his life.
This time as he looks up, it seems that Mydei finally packed everything. He even has Dawnmaker on his back with some kind of holder he managed to throw together.
"I contacted Lady Hyacine. We're going to the Twilight Courtyard. It might not be the closest, but she agrees with my assessment that the benefit outweighs the risk. It'll be faster if I carry you, instead of waiting for her to come to us."
Well. He can definitely count on Mydei to give proper thought to things, because he just handedly answered the questions Phainon had. The Twilight Courtyard definitely would be the best place. It has Hyacine, and maybe Hyacine can answer his question of 'How does one carry a baby to term and never know about it?'
"Erm, okay." Titans, that was a lame reply.
Mydei's lips curl into a soft smile. "You're doing well. Skin to skin contact is very important for newborns."
The compliment sends another flush burning through his face. Every emotion feels more intense. Is this normal for people who just gave birth? It really doesn't help that Mydei is just so perfect. The poor man didn't sign up to deal with this today, but he isn't even breaking a sweat. The Prince's eyes are golden pools, utterly focused on him and the baby. Just how had he managed to earn the devotion of the best man to ever exist? Not only that, but he has no doubt that the Prince is fully committed to ensuring his safe arrival to the Courtyard, along with their very precious cargo.
"Deliverer?"
Oh shit, that's right. He was talking to Mydei.
"Huh? Oh. Thanks. Sorry, I'm just a bit distracted."
"I would hope that you mean that you're distracted from me and not the child."
"I'll try my best. I'm just wondering… how did we miss her this entire time? There had to be signs, right?"
Phainon thinks back.
Some months prior...
Over the past several months, Phainon had become extremely popular with the Chimeras in the Garden of Life.
He loved the little critters, and was fine with them, but in all the time he'd known Mydei, the Kremnoan was far more attuned to them than he was. At least, before the sudden shift.
Phainon takes secret pleasure with his thinly veiled flaunting how he effortlessly captured the attention of the chimeras somehow. He's nice as he tries not to point out the seething golden-eyed jealousy directed his way, mostly because he doesn't even know why the chimeras' opinion on him changed a lot.
"Awww. For me? Thanks, little guy!"
Phainon takes the berries offered to him, adding them to the small pile by his side. Another strange change. He always left the Garden of Life these days with a good amount of offerings. Far too much for him to eat on his own, but luckily he could always wheedle Mydei into making honeycakes to pair them with.
The chimeras weren't the only ones behaving strangely. Every time he gets on a dromas, they start moving exponentially slower than before. If he would try to get off — because honestly, it was faster for him to walk, even the most mild-tempered ones would start throwing fits until he'd get back on.
It was mildly inconvenient, but it gave him more time to relax. Even if that meant the Great Beast of Kremnos, Kokopo III would always win in their races.
Should he ask Professor Anaxa about it? He'll get to it one of these days. It probably wasn't that important.
And some more months before that...
Bath time is a sacred time for Phainon. He figures that everyone in Okhema knows where to find him at two certain times in the day.
At first, it was a necessity. The sacred waters helped him recover faster, both mind and body.
Eventually, it became a habit. The more skilled he grew, the less he actually needed to visit for recovery purposes, and he simply grew to genuinely enjoy his time here.
He actually doesn't even remember how he came to drag invite Mydei with him to the baths. He could have encountered him one day and joined him, or they had some long-forgotten competition.
Over the past half year or so, Phainon swears they did something to the baths. No one believes him when he claims that something is different, but he knows something is.
"Ranting about how baths changed again, Deliverer? What will be your evidence today? Feeling more relaxed? Like that's the point of these baths in the first place?"
"That’s not what I sound like! And no, my arguments are more well-thought out than that."
He's met with a scoff from Mydei. "All this time, and I have yet to see anything conclusive from you."
"It's not my fault that you're not observant enough to notice the changes I've been shoving in your face."
"Mhm. The non-existent swelling that goes down. Or the knots that disappear. We spar almost every day. I would know."
"Heh. So is that why I've been winning more often lately? Because you're too distracted in trying to prove me wrong?"
That particular comment earns Phainon a splash in the face. To which he grins in response. He isn't going to retaliate. Yet.
"Don't be foolish, Deliverer. You're getting better with defenses. Along with the recent improvement in your footwork; you're keeping your center of gravity lower and more stable."
"Seeing as you've already analyzed the changes means that you're already strategizing countermeasures?"
The blonde grins, metaphorical fangs bared. "You'll just have to see in the next spar."
And a few weeks before that...
"Phainon."
Phainon turns towards the Goldweaver with a bright smile. He hadn't been able to catch up with Aglaea as often as he would like.
"Aglaea! I was hoping to run into you. Could I trouble you with something?"
The Goldweaver's smile shifts subtly. Phainon likes to think that he can help her feel the warmth of feelings. Even just a little bit. "Of course. What do you need?"
He scratches the back of his head. The fibers of his coat and shirt stretch uncomfortably with the movement. He had been trying to think of how to phrase the request of her adjusting his clothes. Again.
The subtle detail doesn't fly past Aglaea. He could always trust her to pick up these things without him needing to say it aloud.
"Ah." At least she sounds amused. "What parts bother you the most?"
"My shoulders," he answers almost immediately, immensely relieved. "It's starting to get in the way of swinging my sword around… The chest, too, but I think that's related to the shoulders."
Aglaea tuts meaningfully. She leads him to her workroom, a room that has unfortunately not been seeing too much use as of late; being the leader of the Flame Chase led Aglaea far too little time for her hobby.
This is in part why Phainon was bringing this up now. He hopes his request can give her some reprieve from having to constantly deal with the Council.
Armed with a measuring tape, the weaver hums as she makes note of his form. She maneuvers him out of his outermost vestments.
"This takes me back to when you were going through your growth spurt. It's been some time since I last had to make adjustments like this… You're not growing longer, Phainon. You're growing girthier."
Okay, she has a point; he was rounding out a lot more. Maybe he should ask Mydei to take it easy on the protein. He was bulky enough!
"Hey! I stopped growing!"
"Thankfully," she teases back. "We can't have our Deliverer running around with ripped seams."
"That's why I know I can count on you to maintain my image. I'm really sorry about the hassle!" He really isn't, but it's plausible deniability. Aglaea needs a break.
"It's no bother, Phainon. It is always a pleasure to make clothes for you."
Back to the present
Huh. He really hadn't been able to tell. There weren't any signs.
"Tsk. I should have been able to see this." Mydei's mutters.
"You?" Phainon blurts out. "You're not the one who was supposedly pregnant this entire time—!"
Phainon shuts up, afraid that the sudden surge in volume awakened his very precious cargo. Even Mydei seems to hold a breath in anticipating dread.
Thirty full seconds of soft infant breathing pass before Phainon musters up the courage to continue. "Why are you blaming yourself and not me?" He will deny any allegation of him sounding hurt in this sentence.
"Because you're an idiot," is the Prince's reply. Indignance must have filled Phainon's face because Mydei's face softens slightly. His tone grows more gentle. "You're far too busy worrying about others to spend more than a few brain cells on yourself. I should have been watching your back and worrying for your sake."
Despite being a 10-time Debate Champion, Phainon has trouble coming up with a response to that. Maybe it's his weariness from the trip. Yeah, he'll go with that.
He does try to think of a response. He doesn't need to see Mydei's face to know that the Prince wants to know how he would respond as well.
The wriggling and squirming on his chest interrupts his thoughts. The movement is soon followed by soft crying.
Phainon freezes.
"Mydei… Why is she crying? Did I do something wrong? Do I need to do something?"
The golden-haired warrior slows his running. He finds a stump to set Phainon down on. Shifting to be in front of them, he examines the (his, their) baby.
"She's likely just hungry," he says with a chortle. "It's been some time since you last fed her. You should try getting her to latch again. We should be arriving soon."
Phainon nods numbly. This feels like this should be instinctive knowledge. But Mydei knows a lot more about newborns than he did. Besides, he trusts Mydei more than anyone. He shifts around to feed her.
Mydei goes on his teleslate, likely updating Hyacine about their location and/or their condition. Phainon can't help but admire the man.
Here was someone who, despite having the weight of an entire nation on him, weathered it with ease. And this situation is no different.
Their daughter seems comfortable feeding from him, to the point that he gives Mydei a nod so they can continue moving.
Phainon is again unable to hide the blush on his face at how secure and protected he feels.
"So…" he begins rather awkwardly. "You're the father."
The stare that Mydei levels at him is so intense that it could rival the Dawn Device's light. His gaze doesn't linger too long; he's still running at full speed after all. There's a rumbling of contemplation that Phainon feels from the Prince's chest.
"I figured, but it's nice to hear the confirmation regardless. This shade of blonde is unmistakable."
Mydei was right. The baby's head is covered with a soft covering of hair. Hair she inherited from her father. If Phainon squints, he could swear that there are bits of red at the very tips of the soft strands.
"I mean, there really is no one else. You're the only one I've been sleeping with for the past several years."
Mydei keeps looking forward, pointedly refusing to engage further in this line of thinking. "I see Lady Hyacine ahead."
Phainon looks in that direction. He knows when Mydei decides to deflect, but he'll let him off the hook for now. Especially when the pink-haired healer starts to fuss over him.
Bonus, Mydeimos POV
There is no word for fear in the Kremnoan language.
If anyone were to accuse him of being afraid of the child, he would probably roll his eyes and ignore them. He has better things to do.
Like taking care of said child.
It really hasn't sunken in yet.
He's a father now.
There is no word for fear in the Kremnoan language, but seeing Phainon struggling in the middle of an active battlefield hurt so much more than his red crystals ever would.
When he finally realized exactly what was happening, it was secretly relieving, but likely the closest he's ever been to feeling terror.
He became responsible for one, then later two, vulnerable people, both of whom were very close to his heart.
He makes the trip to Okhema to fetch some of the De— Phainon's things, as well as generally preparing for a child that no one had foreseen. Hyacine insisted on keeping them for observation for a few days. This gives him time to think.
While he was hesitant to leave both Phainon and the baby (his baby) alone, his pride wouldn't allow for anyone else to provide for this family. This is simply another duty to fulfill.
"Welcome back, your Highness!"
Mydei is shaken out of his thoughts by the enthusiastic greeting of a group of Kremnoan warriors. He'd wandered to the Kremnoan district. It seems his muscle memory brought him close to his abode, where he can gather his own things first.
"I cannot stay long." More than a few people are paying attention to their conversation now. His people were very adept at picking up when he had very important business to deal with. Perhaps the sheer authority of his voice brought silence to the vicinity.
Mydei feels everyone's gaze resting on him, expectant. His head tilts upward.
"There are supplies I require to properly celebrate the arrival of Castrum Kremnos' princess."
Exhaling through his nose after dropping that bomb, he pushes forward and sets forth on his goal. He does not doubt that the news would spread to every one of his people by the end of the hour.
"Someone call for a healer! Lord Krateros has fainted!"
He'll be fine. His teacher has a contingent of soldiers to fuss over him. Mydei is otherwise unharried as he gathers a verifiable pile of supplies.
At some point, he's joined by three Tribios and Castorice, the former, unable to contain their excitement and chatter, and the latter, a more subtle kind of thoughtfulness.
(Castorice does display some concerning behavior, often fanning her face and having a flushed expression. Mydei resolves to make a warming meal for her once he and Phainon were more settled. She insisted that she wasn't sick, but he wasn't sure if she was just saying that to not impose.)
He spends the better part of the day setting up his quarters to be worthy of Castrum Kremnos' princess. Phainon's quarters were filled with far too many antiques, and his accommodations were more than spacious enough for the three of them. Phainon was also very familiar with it, having stayed over for many a night. He's sure the Deliverer wouldn't mind. He wouldn't settle for anything less than the best for them.
He's very efficient with his time and soon finds himself out of tasks to accomplish in Okhema, meaning that he can finally make his way back to the Twilight Courtyard. However, it was well past Lucid Hour when he finds his way to the room Phainon and the baby were admitted to.
He isn't surprised to see Phainon still up. Their daughter seems to have just come from a feeding. The white-haired man looks exhausted already, with bags under his eyes, but said eyes still light up with happiness when he sees Mydei arrive.
"Hey, Mydei, you know what I realized?"
"What?" He doesn't like the stupid smile on the tired man's face.
"Guess you can say you're the deliverer now haha…"
Mydei lets out a prolonged sigh. Clearly, Phainon is extremely out of it. "De—"
Mydei stops himself. It doesn't feel right to continue to call Phainon by that title. It feels a bit too distant. Especially with their current... situation. "Phainon, can you please shut up. Get some rest. I'll watch her."
And Phainon is truly so exhausted that he doesn't even register that Mydei just called him by his name. He merely hands the baby over and flops, passing out.
Mydei shifts his arms around, ensuring adequate support for his daughter's head. She's so tiny. He is able to carry her securely in one arm. His free hand gently caresses her cheek, before examining her more closely.
The hair is definitely his, but that is the extent of their similarities. From the eyes, to her face, to even those endearing tufts of hair on her head, all of them are Phainon's.
Logically, he knows he should get some rest. He'd been running around the entire day, and this is actually the first time in hours that he stopped moving.
And yet something churns within him. He wonders if this is the feeling his mother felt when she held him. An intense desire to protect.
The child continues to slumber, and Mydei finds himself mesmerized. Never in his life did he think he'd sire a child. It was so far down his list of priorities that it simply wasn't even there in the first place.
But holding his daughter, the dawn seems more likely to come. There were many reasons for his joining of the Flame Chase, but she now became the foremost reason for him to push through to Era Nova.