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There are three things Krateros loves most in this world.
Third is combat, which is something all Kremnoans pride themselves on. Second is Queen Gorgo, who has been his childhood best friend since before the two could even pick up a spear. First, and the most important by far, is his precious godson Prince Mydeimos.
Krateros was there during Mydeimos’s birth. He was the third person to ever hold the prince, when he was tiny and cried because he was away from his mother for too long. He was there when Mydeimos lost his first tooth, was there when Mydeimos won his first tournament, and was there when Mydeimos came of age and received a medal of honor from his father for being Kremnos’ most promising warrior.
Mydeimos is Krateros’ pride and joy. Nothing will ever change that.
There are three things Krateros hates the most in this world.
Third is cockiness—as Knight Commander, Krateros despises when his subordinates like to pretend they are the best of the best only to lose sorely in a spar against himself or Mydeimos. Second is laziness; if Krateros catches one more knight sleeping on the job, he’s going to send his whole unit on laps around the palace. First, and the most annoying thing by far, is his subordinate, Phainon.
Phainon is… well. He was originally a village boy who came to Castrum Kremnos in hopes of honing his fighting skills. That in itself was a bit strange, as Kremnos rarely gets visitors from other city states who wish to join their military for experience. It’s not something Krateros would hold a grudge for, though. Any outsider brave enough to enter their city’s walls and request to be in their army is already a warrior in mindspace alone.
Phainon has already proven to be a warrior physically as well. Multiple times. He’s easily Krateros’ strongest subordinate, yet he also happens to be Krateros’ most infuriating.
Anytime Krateros says something, it’s like Phainon has to rebuke his statement or else he’ll perish. For the amount of times Krateros has gotten into arguments with this insufferable knight, Krateros seriously considers why Phainon had chosen to go to Castrum Kremnos instead of The Grove. Surely he’d find better enjoyment with their infamous debate team.
Alas, Phainon has shown his worth as a knight, so Krateros can’t do anything about it. Even if he spent two hours arguing with Krateros today on the authenticity of an ancient sword the brat had discovered. Kremnoan royalty don’t even use swords as their weapon of choice—so why would that piece of trash be the weapon of King Gorgo, the founder of Castrum Kremnos?
Krateros grumbles to himself as he retires for the night, sinking down into his seat. He barely has the chance to take his boots off before there is a knock at his door.
“Um, excuse me, Sir Krateros,” a feeble voice calls. “I have a letter from the King.”
Krateros sighs, putting his foot back down and getting up. Normally he would request for a letter to simply be left outside his door, but King Eurypon is currently on a diplomatic trip to Okhema, so any message from him must have some importance.
He begrudgingly opens his door, revealing a fresh-faced palace servant. The boy hands over the envelope to Krateros, bowing deeply before departing in a flash after Krateros takes it. A common occurrence. People tend to be intimidated by the scars littered across his face.
Krateros reads the letter at his desk. It doesn't contain any bad news, only updates on negotiations with Aglaea and the Council of Elders. He shuffles to the second page in the stack, prepared to read it, when he notices that it is addressed to Mydeimos instead of himself. ‘Urgent’ is written in red underneath the prince’s name.
Krateros furrows his brows. He’s tempted to read it for himself, but he respects his godson’s privacy. He once read one of the novels Mydeimos is addicted to, and Mydeimos had gotten so mad at him that he refused to speak to him for a week. So, he makes the decision to tame his curiosity and go bring the letter to Mydeimos himself.
He treks the halls to Mydeimos’ room, letter secured safely in his grasp. Not many people roam the palace this late at night, allowing him to arrive much faster to the familiar gold door that would’ve otherwise taken forever to get to.
Krateros considers knocking to announce his presence, before remembering Mydeimos is probably asleep. It is past midnight and the prince likes to go to bed around ten, which means Krateros should make as minimal noise as possible to avoid Mydeimos’ wrath when he is awoken from his rest.
He’ll just go into Mydeimos’ room and leave the letter on his nightstand, then exit as quietly as he came. It’s a foolproof plan. He’d fulfill his King’s orders and respect Mydeimos’ privacy—all without waking him up.
He slowly enters his key and twists the doorknob, preparing to tiptoe his way into the royal chambers, only to be greeted with—
With—
“Phainon, fuck, you feel so good…!”
Krateros freezes in place, eyes wide. This has to be a nightmare. Some sort of karma for not-so-accidentally drinking Eurypon’s favorite blood-red pomegranate juice the other night.
Because there Mydeimos is—his precious Mydeimos—on his back with his legs around Phainon’s waist and moaning while that… that dog Phainon leans over him, pressing kisses all over Mydeimos’ neck and chest.
Neither of them notice him. Mydeimos is too caught up in bliss, jaw hung open in pleasure. Phainon moves up, capturing Mydei’s lips into a passionate kiss. His hips don’t falter, even as Mydeimos’ hands claw into his back, leaving scratches with every thrust from the mutt.
The letter falls from Krateros’ hand. His legs move on their own accord, and the next thing he knows he is grabbing Phainon by that stupid choker and pulling him out and away from Mydeimos. He throws him to the ground, the man landing on the hardwood floor with a loud thump.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Krateros shouts, staring down at the knight, fists clenched at his sides.
Phainon is red all the way down to his abs, and Krateros sure hopes it’s mainly from rightful embarrassment and not… other reasons. Wide blue eyes look back up at him, and for once Phainon seems to be out of words.
“Sir Krateros, I—listen, it’s not how it looks!” Phainon finally says, like an idiot.
“Not how it looks?!” Krateros repeats. “Not how it looks? Do you mistake me for blind, boy?! You were defiling the prince! What right do you have?! What makes you think you are worth him?!”
Krateros has never felt anger like this in all his fifty years of life. To think that Phainon would even partially believe he is good enough for Mydeimos—it’s absurd! Not even in a millenia could he ever hope to be one tenth of Mydeimos’ worth. No one could. Especially not this arrogant, chatterbox, pitiful excuse of a knight!
Phainon’s mouth closes shut. It’s clear he doesn’t have an answer to Krateros’ question either, and he momentarily breaks eye contact to look down at the floor. When he speaks up again, his voice is meeker than Krateros has ever heard it.
“Sir Krateros,” he says, meeting his gaze once more. “I understand that you’re upset, but—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Krateros interrupts. “What I want is for you to get out of here, and never—”
“Krateros,” a voice behind him speaks. Krateros turns around, where Mydeimos sits up in his bed with the blanket covering his lap. “Leave Phainon alone. He didn’t do anything that I did not wish for him to do.”
Mydeimos’ voice is stern, but a hint of hoarseness bleeds through. Krateros tightly closes his eyes to refrain himself from committing murder in a royal room.
“Bare minimum,” Krateros mutters through gritted teeth. He returns his attention to Phainon, giving him the sharpest glare he can muster. “Listen here, boy. I’ll give you the rest of the night to pack up. By dawn, I expect you out of this kingdom entirely.”
“Krateros!” Mydeimos hisses. “You can’t do that. As your prince, I command you to let Phainon be.”
Krateros looks back at Mydeimos, shocked. Did he seriously just use a power play over him? His cute, sweet, adorable little Mydeimos? Krateros searches those amber eyes for any sort of mercy, only to be met with unforgiving frigidness. Fine then.
Krateros scoffs. “Never thought there would be a day where my young lord decides to use his rank against me. Very well! Continue frolicking around with this country boy! We’ll see how your father reacts when he’s back.”
Then, he exits the room and slams the door shut.
So. Prince Mydeimos is having intercourse with a lowly knight, and Krateros cannot do anything about it. Well, officially he cannot. That doesn’t mean he can’t try other means to get them separated.
It’s been a week since the incident, and now that Krateros is aware of a relationship, he can’t help but notice it all the time these days. Lingering glances, touches that last a second too long, provocative winks from Phainon whenever Mydeimos comes to oversee training… it’s all entirely too inappropriate. It’s only been seven days, and Krateros is sick of it.
He needs them away from each other as often as possible.
“Phainon!” he calls. The sun is sweltering today, and Krateros stands in the shade as he watches the knights practice their form on dummies.
Phainon arrives within seconds. “Yes, sir?”
Krateros looks him up and down, scrunching his nose at the sweat that bleeds through his white coat. Disgusting. It’s even worse knowing that Mydeimos might be into that, if that book from long ago still proves accurate.
“I need you to go to the outer city. The citizens there have been reporting bear attacks.” He throws a sack of coins at Phainon, who catches it skillfully. “I expect it to take a week. Use this to get yourself a hotel room.”
Phainon shifts the sack of coins around awkwardly. “Sure, but I don’t think solving a bear attack will take a week. Perhaps a few nights is enough?”
Krateros feels his eye twitch. “Don’t start testing me,” he growls.
Phainon wisely doesn’t argue back. He nods, thanks him for the coins, then heads off to prepare his steed for the journey.
Krateros watches with much satisfaction as Phainon leaves the palace. Finally, he will be able to work in peace without worrying if Phainon is rocking Kremnos’ heir into bed. He’s so elated about this fact that he doesn’t notice said heir has crept up beside him until a voice speaks up.
“Where did you send him?” Mydeimos asks, startling Krateros.
“Oh, he’s just going to the outer city for a while,” Krateros replies, once he catches himself. He clasps his hands together. “My young lord, would you like to bake some pastries with me? I find myself in quite a good mood today.”
It was Mydeimos who got Krateros into baking, long ago. When the prince was ten, he found a cook book in the castle’s library and then proceeded to beg Krateros to help him make a cake for Queen Gorgo’s birthday. Who was Krateros to deny such a pure wish? Especially with puppy—or kitty—eyes like those?
Turns out Krateros quite enjoyed baking—perhaps not as much as Mydeimos, but he had fun nonetheless. It became a hobby for the prince, and Krateros would occasionally join him for some good godfather and godson bonding. It was their little thing.
“Not really,” Mydeimos says, turning on his heel and walking away.
Krateros gawks. He catches up to Mydeimos, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “Young lord? What about a game of chess instead? Or a spar. You love spars!”
Mydeimos shrugs his hand off his shoulder and glares at him. “I don’t want to be around you right now. Besides, I have some tasks I need to finish.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before continuing to move, leaving Krateros standing there like a lost recruit. Is Mydeimos really this upset about Phainon having to leave his side for a week?
Krateros thinks back to when Eurypon and Gorgo first started dating, and realizes yes, it is normal for couples to be moody when one isn’t around. Whenever Gorgo had to go into town, Eurypon always tended to be rather sulky. Once, when Gorgo was out for a month, Eurypon drank until he was blackout drunk, stumbling about and making a fool of himself in front of the whole palace court.
Eurypon was so embarrassed the next day that he forbade people from even hinting towards what had happened. Threatened them to the dungeons for half a year for any word spoken. It scared everyone shitless, but the main point came across: never start drinking when you are missing a loved one, lest you want everyone to know your weaknesses.
“Young prince, I suggest you put that bottle of wine down,” Krateros says at dinner, three days later.
Mydeimos’ fingers tense around the glass bottle. He pours it into his goblet anyways, the red liquid gradually filling the cup, sending pricks of dread up Krateros’ spine. The Eurypon Incident happened thirty years ago. He has just recovered from the trauma of it—he doesn’t want to relive it so soon.
“Mydeimos,” Krateros warns again. Too bad Mydeimos desires to be as stubborn as a mule today, for he downs the entire glass with one tip of his head. Krateros puts his head in his hands. “Titans above.”
At the end of the table, Gorgo cackles. “Krateros, you are aware that Mydeimos is only drinking pomegranate juice, correct?”
Krateros lifts his head back up. Upon further glance at the bottle, he notices a drawing of plump pomegranates above the company’s label. Next to it reads ‘100% Pomegranate Extract’, and there is some sort of symbol by the words that Krateros can’t quite make out before Mydeimos is sliding the glass away from his view.
“I can’t wrap my head around why he thought it was alcohol in the first place, mother,” Mydeimos says, cutting into his moussaka. “He knows I don’t drink.”
That is true. Mydeimos has tried alcohol a total of one time, during his twentieth birthday banquet a few months ago. He’s been legally able to drink for two years, but has been hesitant to try—and for good reason. Maybe being a lightweight runs in the royal family, because it only took one glass to make Mydeimos throw up. When he awoke the next morning, he swore off drinking completely.
Now that Krateros thinks about it, it was Phainon who rushed to his aid when Mydeimos was heaving into a bush. At the time, Krateros just assumed it was a knight fulfilling his chivalric duty. Something expected of him to do for his prince. Now, though…
Krateros crinkles his nose. Just how long has their relationship been a thing?
And because Krateros’ life is one cruel joke, the doors to the dining hall swing open. Krateros can hear the obnoxious tread of Phainon’s boots before he sees the man himself. Wanting to keep his sanity, he doesn’t look up and stuffs some peppers into his mouth.
A bag of coins is dropped unceremoniously by his food. Krateros swallows, slowly lifting his chin. Phainon smiles brightly at him.
“Here’s the leftover coins,” Phainon says, like Krateros can’t see that.
“You were supposed to be gone for a week,” Krateros says, scowling. He picks the bag up, surprised when he finds it heavier than it was three days ago. “Did you put rocks in here?”
Krateros is going to kill this mutt. He thinks he can try and trick Krateros after wasting all his money? It’s only somewhat acceptable if he spent the change on Mydeimos, which is unlikely, because Phainon has otherwise come back empty handed!
“No sir,” Phainon tells him. “Open it.”
Krateros undraws the strings, pulling the bag open and taking a look inside. He’s met with nothing but gold, so he shakes it around just a little to make sure. Still only gold. He stares in silence.
“The ladies at the outer city were really nice,” Phainon explains, “Gave me some tips for a job well done. I figured I would give it back to you, since…” He trails off, but Krateros knows what he is trying to refer to.
“I’m sure they were charmed by you,” Mydeimos grumbles. He reaches up to tug at Phainon’s sleeve, drawing the knight’s attention to him. “Were you not going to greet me?”
“Sorry, Your Highness,” Phainon says easily. He walks to the other side of Mydeimos and pulls a chair close to him, sitting down. “What are you eating tonight? It looks good. Did you make it?”
Krateros desperately looks towards Gorgo, trying to discern if she sees what the hell he is. She doesn’t meet his gaze. Distraught, Krateros returns his sight to the two, only to be met with Mydeimos feeding Phainon a piece of his meal.
What the hell. What the hell what the hell.
Phainon hums around Mydeimos’ fork. “This is delicious. I expected nothing less from you.”
“You could’ve had more if you were here these past days.”
“I wasn’t gone on purpose!” Phainon defends, a whine to his grating voice. “I promise you, I came back as fast as I could. I know you get upset when I’m not by your side all the time.”
Mydeimos kicks Phainon’s leg, cursing him. Krateros sits in his seat, frozen. All of a sudden his appetite for his meal is gone.
The two were never this shameless before. Never. Krateros would have noticed before traumatizing himself by walking in on them having sex. Knowing Phainon, he’s probably doing this on purpose just to rile Krateros up.
“Oh!” Phainon promptly says, grabbing the nearby bottle. “You’re drinking the pomegranate juice I bought you. Do you like it? It’s a rare brand, made from the freshest fruit.”
Mydeimos flushes red, and nods. “It’s good.”
Now that Krateros can get another look at the juice thanks to Phainon floundering it in his direction, he can finally tell what the symbol on it is. It’s a rather messily drawn kissy face, followed by multiple hearts surrounding it.
Krateros could recognize that atrocious art style anywhere. His unit would sometimes play drawing games for group bonding during campaigns. Those shaky lines could belong to no other but Phainon.
Krateros really wishes he stayed ignorant.
Turns out, trying to send Phainon away never ends up working. It’s as if no matter what, Phainon never fails to end up glued to Mydeimos’ side, trailing after him like a loyal puppy. Under any other circumstances, Krateros would find it a bit humorous—if it were anyone else but Phainon.
Krateros has tried everything. He makes sure Phainon is keeping busy during the rare moments the prince has free time. He has him run errands all around the palace and beyond. He changes Phainon’s curfew from eleven to ten, and he always double checks to see if the knight is still in his quarters. He has officially banned Phainon from taking any night shifts. Yet still.
Still!
Phainon will always manage to return to Mydeimos, coerce the prince into doing idiotic things with him, and then taint Krateros’ sweet boy with that dirty mouth of his. Just the other day, Mydeimos had his hair tied back, and…
…Safe to say, Krateros didn’t even know that that amount of hickeys on such a small patch of skin was even possible.
Right now is a prime example of Phainon’s horrific influence on the prince. Krateros watches with narrowed eyes as Phainon and Mydeimos converse near the entrance to the royal library, where Krateros was headed to relax and take his mind off things.
Phainon is supposed to be doing laps around the palace’s perimeter. The crown prince is supposed to be handling the paperwork for foreign affairs. Neither of them should be here, dawdling about like kids during recess.
Krateros should’ve known better than to assume he could’ve gotten any semblance of peace.
“Come on, Mydeimos, don’t tell me you’re chickening out now?” Phainon taunts, holding a particularly large and red chili pepper to the prince’s face. Krateros quickly realizes those were the peppers he ordered a couple months back.
His rare chili peppers that only grow in the frosted plains of Aidonia. The ones that costed 500,000 balance coins. Krateros’ stomach drops to his feet.
Mydeimos scoffs and snatches the vegetable from Phainon’s hands, their fingers brushing much longer than necessary. “Surely you are aware that we Kremnoans eat ghost peppers for breakfast every day? Foolish deliverer.”
“Is that true?” Phainon ponders, fake confusion laced in his voice. “I’ve only ever seen you eat honeycakes for breakfast. With extra syrup.”
“You—” Mydeimos growls. His grip on the pepper tightens. Krateros observes with horror as his precious pepper threatens to come apart under such great pressure.
“Boys!” Krateros shouts, clearing the short distance to them. Both of them startle, the pepper almost slipping out of Mydeimos’ hand. Krateros seizes it from him and turns to Phainon. “First of all: where in Niakdor’s name did you find this pepper?!”
Phainon’s eyes widen. “That’s what you’re upset— um, a box of them was at my door, sir. I assumed they were meant for me. Are they not?”
“No!” Krateros yells. “Why were they even at your door? They were supposed to be delivered to me! I ordered them!”
“Ah…” Phainon says, looking increasingly regretful. “Apologies then, sir. There must’ve been a mix up. Luckily, this is the only one I took out. The rest are still in their container.”
Krateros sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. How was there even a mix up in the first place? He would have to talk to the servants later. His quarters aren’t even anywhere near Phainon’s.
“At least they all haven’t gone to waste…” Krateros grumbles. “Now, the other issue: both of you have other things you should be doing right now. How many laps have you done so far, Phainon?”
“Um…” Phainon says, sheepish. He avoids Krateros’ stare. “Four?”
Krateros is momentarily rendered speechless. Is this really who Mydeimos likes so much? This lazy idiot? “Just for that, boy, your twenty laps have been raised to fifty,” Krateros growls, low and dangerous.
“Sir yes sir!” Phainon says quickly, bounding off just as fast.
Mydeimos, who has been silent the whole time, clears his throat. Krateros turns towards him, surprised when he sees Mydeimos staring at his feet. He looks incredibly guilty, and by the way he chews his bottom lip, Krateros knows he feels just as bad as he seems—some habits really do never change.
“Were those the chili peppers you ordered six months ago, Uncle Krateros?” Mydeimos asks.
“You knew about them?” Krateros replies, shocked.
“I saw your recipe book in the kitchen,” Mydeimos explains. “I was curious as to why it was suddenly so full, so I checked its contents. There were so many dishes within it where its core ingredient was a certain type of pepper.
“I didn’t recognize the species, so I looked into it and discovered that they are incredibly difficult to find, and even more difficult to purchase. When Phainon showed me the peppers he got, I didn’t put it together that they were yours. So. I’m sorry for my foolishness.”
Krateros’ heart breaks into a million pieces. It’s as if the Mydeimos in front of him right now was him over a decade ago, teary-eyed and apologizing to his “favorite Uncle Krateros” for accidentally chipping one of his spears. At that time, Krateros was so moved that he had picked the little prince up and told him it’s okay as the boy sobbed into his neck, small hands clutching at his shoulders.
Krateros could never be mad at Mydeimos for long.
“It’s alright, young prince,” Krateros says, voice softening. “I know you didn’t intend to cause any harm. Now, though, you should get back to writing those papers.”
Mydeimos nods. “I should. Once more, I apologize. I’ll go get the rest of the peppers from Phainon’s room as well.” He walks off, heading towards the knights’ quarters.
Krateros’ mood sours at the mention of Phainon’s name. Mydeimos wouldn’t even have to apologize in the first place if it wasn’t for Phainon’s irresponsibility and insistence to fool around. If he can’t manage to get Phainon away from Mydeimos, then maybe…
Maybe he can convince Mydeimos to leave Phainon instead.
An idea pops into Krateros’ head. He smiles, and heads towards the library with an entirely different purpose than he came for.
When Krateros first discovered the books Mydeimos read, he was rightfully flabbergasted. Who knew that the crown prince was into such perverted literature? Krateros had only read two pages, but the things he saw were enough to leave him scarred for life. The most traumatizing thing he ever laid his two eyes upon.
Or so he had thought, before he had to be a firsthand witness to What Shall Not Be Named. Those noises he heard still haunts him every night. Nikador, he had never wished to know how Phainon or Mydeimos sounded in pleasure!
Thus, he braves his previous fears and heads straight towards the erotic literature section of the library. The shelves are completely decked out, stretching out for rows upon rows. Krateros has never had a need to go to this part of the building before—was reading about people being intimate really that popular among warriors?
Well, at least now he knows Mydeimos wasn’t just a one off case. That’s a relief. Krateros skims his fingers across the spines of many books, trying to find one similar to the book Mydeimos read.
If he recalls correctly, it involved two men… with one being a demon? Krateros has no idea. All he knows is that the penetrator was a large, masked man cloaked in black, whilst the receiver was a seemingly normal human. A prince, maybe?
…Oh great Nikador above. Mydeimos cannot be into terrifying demons from hell. Not only is that entirely dangerous and concerning, there is no way Krateros will be able to invite someone similar enough to the next palace gala! How is he supposed to find someone to replace Phainon if Mydeimos’ only other option is a mythical killer?!
No. No, Krateros cannot give up. Mydeimos has more books in his collection, Krateros just thankfully never read them. Surely, within those books, there are more attainable love interests. He just needs to check the… what? He squints his eyes at a sign dividing some books. The ‘BL’ section?
Two men are kissing on the sign, so Krateros shrugs. This must be the genre he’s looking for, though he’s struggling to guess what exactly ‘BL’ stands for. Young people these days, with all their new slang…
He ends up choosing four books to check out. Three are stand-alones, but one is the first book to a series. It has an odd name, as do most of them have, but at least the main characters for all of these both seem to be human. Krateros will be doing some thorough research on Mydeimos’ type tonight.
He’s only mildly embarrassed when he comes up to the librarian. He places the books on the counter, and the lady around his age—Nefeli, he remembers training with her—doesn’t bother to hide her smile as she writes inside the covers.
“I didn’t know these books were Sir Krateros’ thing,” Nefeli says, chuckling.
“They’re not,” Krateros says quickly. Nefeli’s eyes meet his, and he goes on. “Um, my—my, uh, nephew is really into these books. I just thought I would get some for him, since he lives in the outer city.”
“I didn’t know you had a nephew,” Nefeli says, eyebrow raised.
Krateros grimaces. “Yup! My sister—I mean, brother’s son. You’ve probably never met him. Either of them. My brother or his son. They don’t come by often.”
“Hm.” Mercifully, Nefeli doesn’t comment further, but Krateros can tell she wants to by the glimmer in her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, and Krateros quickly interrupts.
“These books seem to be pretty popular nowadays, huh?”
“They are,” Nefeli agrees, closing the last book. “My daughter’s girlfriend is really into these books. My girl would often come by to check these out. I’ll admit, though, when I found out it wasn’t for herself but for someone she was seeing… I was a bit peeved.”
Krateros pulls the books back over to his side of the counter. “Why?”
Nefeli sighs. “I never liked the other girl. At first, that is. Something to do with our families never getting along. Imagine my surprise when I found out my daughter and her were meeting behind my back? I was enraged, you understand.”
Oh, Krateros understands. He understands very well. “Our kids always seem to find a way to fall for the worst ever person, huh? How did you manage to break them apart?”
Nefeli blinks, surprised. “Break them apart?”
Krateros nods. “Like, how did you separate them? Did you send the girl away? Have her run laps and do errands? Threaten her?”
Nefeli doesn’t respond right away. Eventually, she says slowly, “I didn’t do any of that. I was mad, yes, but I couldn’t control who she loved. I ended up warming up to the girl, anyway. A real sweetheart once I managed to put old blood aside.”
“Oh,” Krateros says, frowning. He can’t imagine not even trying to put up a fight. What happened to Kremnos spirit? They were warriors, after all. Warriors don’t let stuff passively happen.
The only explanation he can think of is that Nefeli’s daughter’s girlfriend wasn’t nearly as bad as Phainon. Surely, if she were, then Nefeli would definitely have pushed back. That woman was terrifying back in their training days.
“I’m glad things worked out for you, then,” Krateros says gruffily. He gives a curt nod. “I’ll see you around.”
He walks out of the library with the books clutched to his chest, arms covering any revealing details about them. Mydeimos gives him a weird look when he walks past him in the halls, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.
Back in his room, Krateros takes out a quill and notepad, then chooses a random book in the pile to read first. Time to see what My Rival Turned Out to be My Greatest Love is really about.
Krateros always knew that Phainon was strong. It was his only good quality amongst his sea of bad ones. But Krateros never knew that Phainon was this strong. As in, being able to keep up a fight with Mydeimos strong.
Mydeimos is the strongest warrior in all of Castrum Kremnos. Both his mother and father are formidable fighters—King Eurypon took down a whole army by himself whilst Queen Gorgo once wrestled with and killed a lion with her bare hands. As such, it was only natural that a child born by them would end up a child stronger than no other.
At nine years old, Mydeimos won his first fight against a teenager six years older than him. When he was fourteen, he managed to beat ten foes who came after him all at the same time. Castrum Kremnos has had a lot of strong soldiers throughout her lifetime, but everyone can agree that Mydeimos is the strongest.
Yet here Mydeimos is, at a stalemate with Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, a village boy with no prior fighting experience before coming to Castrum Kremnos. Krateros would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed.
Krateros has been watching this spar for the past four hours. Originally, he had come to the training grounds to let off some of his own—non-Phainon related, surprisingly—steam. Instead, he was almost hit by loose rubble from Phainon’s sword hitting a wall after Mydeimos dodged an attack.
From then on, he has been watching the two men fight. He lounges on a chair a safe distance away, a plate of bread and cheese to his side. He sips on his glass of pomegranate juice as Mydeimos lunges for Phainon’s throat, only for Phainon to quickly block the hit with the back of his sword.
“Sir, would you like some more grapes?” A servant to his side asks.
“That would be nice,” Krateros says. The servant goes to move, but Krateros continues, “Can you believe that Phainon boy is actually putting up a good fight against Mydeimos? What has gotten into him today that’s got him so feisty?”
The servant falters. “Well, it’s as usual, sir. He and Prince Mydeimos enjoy sparring every now and then. You know, before they start… nevermind.”
Krateros’ eyebrows raise. “They spar often? And here I thought it was their first time.”
“They’ve been sparring since Phainon first became a knight. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, sir.”
“Huh.” At his lack of response, the servant scrambles away. Krateros puts some cheese on his bread and takes another bite.
Maybe Phainon isn’t as bad as he thought. Anyone able to match Mydeimos in a fight is worthy of his hand. Just like how the King and Queen met—through a duel that tied for ten rounds straight.
Nefeli warmed up to her daughter’s girlfriend just fine. Krateros will never warm up to Phainon, but maybe he can begin to tolerate him if he fights like this. Mydeimos seems to be having so much fun, too. Krateros rarely sees him grin as freely as he is now.
Maybe those books weren’t worthwhile after all. Krateros did learn some things; like how choking during sex seems to be common in these stories—he’d rather not think what that implies for Mydeimos—but he never would have read them had he known Phainon would be able to sway him like this.
Maybe he can accept Mydeimos having feelings for a mutt like Phainon. Maybe he can—
“Wow, Mydeimos! That conspicuous body of yours is really soaking up damage today!” Phainon shouts, in between punches and swings. “Like a sponge! Soft like one, too!”
“Haikas,” Mydeimos growls, a blush crawling up his cheeks.
“Your haikas,” Phainon says cheerily, effectively making Mydeimos stumble. He uses this to his advantage and pins Mydeimos to the ground, hovering over him, sword by his cheek. “What do you say, Mydeimos? As the winner of this spar, I think I deserve a reward, hmm?”
Mydeimos is red like a tomato when he answers Phainon. Krateros strains to hear what he says, but he can’t, not when the two are murmuring amongst themselves now. The next thing Krateros knows is Phainon is scooting down, bringing his face towards Mydeimos’ chest, then latches down on a nipple.
Okay. What the fuck. Krateros shoots up from his seat and spits out the remaining bread in his mouth.
To think that he even considered approving of Phainon! Not only does this horndog have no honor in a fight and uses despicable tactics to win, he also has the audacity to engage in scandalous acts with the prince on public grounds!
Enraged, Krateros turns to re-enter the palace. At the entrance, the same servant stands there, a fresh plate of grapes in his hands. Krateros hastily walks past him, their shoulders bumping. He hears the clang of the plate falling to the ground, but he doesn’t bother to help.
He goes straight to his workplace and slams the door shut. He roughly takes out the invitation list for next week’s gala and circles every single name of the men that would suit Mydeimos’ tastes.
“Prince Mydeimos, this is Lord Sotiris of the Andromachos house. Lord Sotiris, this is Prince Mydeimos,” Krateros introduces, standing beside a stern young man.
It’s the night of the gala, and the party is in full swing. Krateros can barely hear his own voice over the loud chatters of his countrymen, but this is the moment he has been preparing for for weeks: to introduce Mydeimos to other men, and get his eyes away from Phainon.
Sotiris is the first out of his list of Men That Mydeimos May Like. He’s tall, well built, and has midnight black hair. If Mydeimos likes scary-looking people—as his books may suggest—then Sotiris is easily the top choice.
Sotiris offers a hand, face still. “Greetings, my prince. It is an honor to meet you tonight.”
Mydeimos eyes the hand, but eventually takes it. He gives a firm shake. “The honor is mine.”
Neither of them speak after that. They stand around awkwardly, Mydeimos’ gaze flickering around to the crowd behind them. Krateros sighs. This is what happens when two introverted people are forced to converse.
Clearing his throat, Krateros speaks up. “My lord, why don’t you tell Prince Mydeimos of your accomplishments? I hear you are quite talented in hunting.”
“Ah.” Sotiris nods. “I do enjoy hunting.”
Krateros gives a strained smile. “Anything in particular you like to hunt? Prince Mydeimos loves to cook. Maybe he could make a meal out of one of your kills.”
Mydeimos is still looking behind Krateros and Soltiris, clearly not listening to the conversation. Krateros subtly kicks Mydeimos’ ankle.
“Deer and boar.”
Mydeimos blinks. “What?”
“I like to hunt deer and boar,” Sotiris repeats, somewhat robotically.
“Oh,” Mydeimos says. “That’s nice.”
Krateros wonders what crime he could have possibly done in a past life to have deserved this. But he’s nothing if not a proud warrior of Castrum Kremnos, so he continues trying. “Mydeimos, how about you tell Lord Sotiris of your hobbies now?”
“Fighting.”
Krateros’ eye twitches. Is that all Mydeimos is going to say? He has so many hobbies, yet he stops at the most shallow one?
“He also likes to read and draw,” Krateros supplies. “And cook, but I’ve already mentioned that.”
Mydeimos glares at Krateros. Krateros glares back.
“I’m not a fan of reading,” Sotiris says. He doesn’t say anything more.
Krateros would facepalm, but he unfortunately is in a very important gala right now so he refrains from doing so. “Okay! Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, my lord. Please, enjoy this party.”
He spots a head of brown hair in the distance, and instantly recognises the man as number two in his list of Men That Mydeimos May Like. He gestures for Mydeimos to follow him. “My prince, if you may?”
“Uncle, what are you doing?” Mydeimos asks as he steps besides Krateros. “I wasn’t aware that this gala was supposed to be a meet and greet.”
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Krateros snaps back. “I know for a fact that neither I nor any of your teachers taught you to be this rude during diplomatic events.”
“Lord Sotiris comes from a very minor noble family,” Mydeimos points out. “His impression of me shouldn’t matter much. Besides, I have reasons to believe you have ulterior motives for introducing him to me.”
Krateros stops in his tracks. He turns towards Mydeimos, lifting his head up. Oh how he misses when Mydeimos was shorter than him. “And what motives may that be?”
“Separating me from Phainon.”
Krateros sighs heavily. Mydeimos truly was too perceptive for his own good. “Think whatever you want to think, young lord, but you have to treat the next person we greet respectfully. He is Lord Alexandros of the Gavras house, the son of one of your father’s greatest allies.”
Mydeimos doesn’t say anything in response to that. The rest of their walk is in silence.
At least Mydeimos is significantly more hospitable to Alexandros than he was to Sotiris. Their conversation manages to last three minutes without need for Krateros’ interference. As it dwindles down, Krateros notices that the orchestra has switched to a slower, more romantic, song.
This is Krateros’ chance. “Lord Alexandros, would you like to have Prince Mydeimos’ hand in a dance?” he inquires, pushing Mydeimos closer to the man.
Mydeimos freezes. “What?”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” Alexandros says, already bowing and offering a gloved hand towards Mydeimos.
Mydeimos just stares at the hand, unmoving. “No, I—”
“What’s going on over here?” An agitating voice pipes up. Phainon appears beside Mydeimos like a ghost, arm wrapping around the prince’s waist.
Krateros’ face drops. “Phainon, what are you doing over here?”
Krateros knows for a fact that Phainon should not be here right now. All his knights should be guarding the gala, not participating in them. Seriously, does Phainon have no regards for the safety of civilians?
“I’m here for the dance!” Phainon says, cheerfully. “What else?”
“You’re supposed to be stationed out front,” Krateros growls.
“Queen Gorgo let me come for the slow dancing,” Phainon explains, squeezing Mydeimos’ waist. “I promise I’ll be back out right after. I just want to steal Mydei for a few minutes, okay?”
Krateros is too stunned for a response. Betrayed, he looks to where Queen Gorgo is sitting on her throne, a bright smile plastered on her face. She waves to Krateros and gives a thumbs up to Phainon. The rascal bows in response.
“Are you ready, my prince?” Phainon asks, grabbing Mydeimos’ hand and kissing the back of it.
“Mm,” Mydeimos hums, and then Phainon, a mere knight, is dragging the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos to the dance floor.
Alexandros straightens up stiffly, brushing away at the sleeves of his coat.
“I’m sorry, Lord Alexandros,” Krateros mutters, still watching Gorgo. She flashes him a mocking grin. “I will be right back.”
“Why would you let Phainon go to him?” Krateros demands, when he makes it to Gorgo.
Gorgo gestures to Krateros to sit beside her. He does, and she points down to where many couples are dancing. In the middle of them all are Phainon and Mydeimos; Mydeimos’s arms wrapped around Phainon’s shoulders as the knight leads them step by step to the graceful music.
“Can’t you see he makes Mydeimos happy?” Gorgo asks, a little unkindly.
“But he’s a pervert,” Krateros says, frowning.
Gorgo hits his shoulder. Krateros yelps, rubbing where her hand was. “So what? Mydeimos is an adult now, Krateros. You can’t expect him to stay pure forever.”
“You don’t understand, Gorgo, he—he’s always making comments about Mydeimos’ body, distracting him from his work, and getting him into childish trouble. How could you approve of him? I don’t care if he makes Mydeimos happy, he doesn’t understand what’s good for him!”
“And you do?” Gorgo angrily asks, voice rising. “You, who’s never even been in a relationship, save for that one time crush on a girl from high school? Please. You’re just like Eurypon.”
“At least Eurypon has some sense to him,” Krateros retorts, choosing to ignore the comment about his own love life. “Tell me, does he know?”
“No. Mydeimos only told me.”
Krateros watches as Phainon spins Mydeimos. It’s then that Krateros notices Mydeimos’ earring as it dangles with every movement, silver and blue and every color that Mydeimos is not. Only an idiot would not be able to figure out who gifted the piece of jewelry to Mydeimos.
“When did he tell you?”
Gorgo folds her hand on her lap. “He originally confided to me that he had a crush about two years ago. That was around the time we got that new recruit, who Mydeimos was often around, so it didn’t take me much to guess who it was.”
She glances at Krateros. “He was so nervous. And why wouldn’t he be? He has two overprotective father figures in his life. He could barely meet my gaze when he asked for my support.”
Krateros leans back in his seat, folding his arms. His heart aches in his chest. “Don’t tell me you only gave it out of pity.”
“Of course not, Krateros! Why would it have to be out of pity? Phainon is a fine, honest young man that is Mydeimos’ age. What is the issue here?”
“The issue is that he’s a pervert who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” Krateros repeats.
“Nikador above,” Gorgo sighs, “You are just a broken record. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you and Eurypon were long lost brothers.”
Krateros barks out a laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? You know this is the one thing I agree with that man on!”
The song has ended. The crowd below begins to disperse, but Phainon and Mydeimos stay together, foreheads pressed against each other and engaged in conversation. Mydeimos kisses Phainon’s cheek before he is pulled into a kiss on the lips, chaste but sweet.
“Speaking of Eurypon,” Gorgo starts, “He’s supposed to arrive back this Saturday. Don’t mention a word about Mydeimos and Phainon’s relationship, okay? If this is already how you reacted, I can only imagine how he will.”
Krateros huffs, but agrees nonetheless. He watches as Phainon says a dramatic goodbye to Mydeimos before returning to his post. Gorgo may be okay with this relationship, though Krateros still isn’t so sure.
He supposes he should try less to break them apart, however. If Gorgo wants them to stay together, there is nothing Krateros can do about it. He won’t overstep his rank in the hierarchy, no matter how much Phainon pisses him off.
The day Eurypon returns, both Krateros and Mydeimos are summoned to the throne room. For a brief moment, Krateros fears that Gorgo told her husband about the attitude he gave her the other day, so he mentally begins preparing his will.
All my money and assets will go to my precious godson Mydeimos, Krateros prays to the gods as if they controlled inheritance, and make sure none of it is shared with Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
“Father, what is it that you need us for?” Mydeimos asks, unaware of Krateros’ inner turmoil. Or maybe he is, and is just choosing to ignore it. He does that often.
Eurypon manspreads on his throne, his amber eyes weighing down on Krateros and Mydeimos. This is it, Krateros mentally sobs, He’s going to execute me for arguing with Gorgo. Oh, please let me go a quick way and not get impaled.
Voice low and chilling, Eurypon queries, “Did you get my letter?”
Krateros goes still as a statue. Is this not about the argument? Oh, thank Nikador! He’s saved! “What letter?” he asks, excitedly and stupidly, before it hits him.
It’s the letter that he was meant to give to Mydeimos before he witnessed What Shall Not Be Named. He was so infuriated about what was happening right before his eyes, that he completely forgot about the letter! The damn letter, with urgent written in red!
“The letter that was meant to be sent to Mydeimos,” Eurypon explains. Krateros begins praying to the gods again. “I realized I mistakenly lumped it in with your batch, Krateros, so I would like to know if Mydeimos received it.”
“I didn’t receive any letter, no,” Mydeimos says.
Eurypon shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. When they reopen, they narrow in on Krateros. “I suppose I will just explain the details of the letter, then. I have been informed that the citystate of Milios plans on launching a sneak attack to our borders, so I originally wanted Mydeimos to lead our knights there and stop the attack before it can happen.
However, upon my return to Castrum Kremnos, Gorgo told me that she knows the land of Milios quite well, so she will be the one leading the knights there instead. Some of our strongest units will go along with her, while you, Krateros and Mydeimos, will defend the inner city, should there be any surprises.”
Krateros nods, immensely relieved. Eurypon isn’t nearly as mad as he expected him to be. “Okay. We can do that, your Majesty.”
“Who else is being deployed to Milios?” Mydeimos asks.
“As I said, some of our strongest units. Naturally, this includes that farm boy, Petros, Heliodoros…” Eurypon trails off, naive and unknowing about how important that stupid farm boy is to Mydeimos.
“I want to go too,” Mydeimos says, voice desperate. “Please, father, you know I can fight well whether I know the land or not. I could be of great help, you see—”
Eurypon raises a single hand, effectively stopping Mydeimos’ rambling. “Your mother is already going, Mydeimos. Why would I send both of the most important people in my life to a battlefield? Be rational, Mydeimos.”
“I am being rational,” Mydeimos insists. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched. “He and I… we fight well together, it would be more beneficial if I were to accompany him—”
“Enough, Mydeimos,” Eurypon barks out. Mydeimos’ mouth clamps shut. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to be training the new recruits right now. Go, and quit fretting over some farm kid.”
Mydeimos looks like he wants to say more, but he hesitates. Instead, he gives a curt nod and speedwalks out of the throneroom, leaving Krateros alone with Eurypon.
There’s a tense silence. Krateros begins to prepare for his departure, too, bowing lowly to the great King of Kremnos. “I must be on my way. The paperwork won’t fill out themselves,” he says, turning on his heel.
“He likes him, doesn’t he?” Eurypon says, randomly. Krateros almost trips. “Mydeimos likes… What's his name… Phainon?”
Krateros stares at the door in front of him, his only gateway to freedom. “Yes.”
“Yes to what? His name being Phainon, or Mydeimos having feelings for him?”
“...To both,” Krateros answers, then hightails it out of there.
“What in the great Nikador above is going on in here?” Krateros asks, holding his crate of Aidonian Peppers close to his chest.
Really, he just came to the kitchen to try and cook one of the new recipes in his cookbook: Aidionian Pepperfied Spetzofai. Imagine how surprised he was when instead of seeing his meticulously clean countertops—he spent all day scrubbing them yesterday!—he is greeted with what can only be described as a flour massacre.
“I’m baking,” Mydeimos simply replies, roughly kneading some dough.
“What, your tenth batch?!” Krateros demands, taking in all the molded dough that litters the entire kitchen. “I just cleaned this place yesterday!”
“I’m stressed,” Mydeimos says.
Krateros gently places his crate of Aidonian Peppers at the corner of a countertop, the only place he could find without flour dusted on it. Walking up to Mydeimos, he questions, “About Phainon? It’s only been a week, he’s fine.”
Mydeimos doesn’t dignify him with a reply. He punches some more dough in before rolling them up into little balls and setting them off to the side. Then he grabs more eggs and flours and begins the process all over again.
Krateros shudders as an egg shell is discarded near his foot. Is Phainon really worrying Mydeimos that much? Even Krateros acknowledges that that man is a fine warrior—there is no way he could be defeated that easily.
“Young prince,” Krateros tries, placing a hand on Mydeimos’ shoulder. “You know that mutt is fierce in battle. If he can keep up with you, the strongest warrior Castrum Kremnos has ever seen, then he will not be killed that easily.”
“Don’t call him a mutt,” Mydeimos sneers, shrugging Krateros’ hand off. “And I know he’s strong. It’s just… right before father came back, Phainon injured his leg. I don’t know if it healed enough before he was sent off.”
Krateros hums. He had noticed Phainon avoiding to put too much weight on his left leg during drills, but at the time Krateros was too joyous that Phainon was finally getting karma for staining the prince to do something about it.
“Well, he’s certainly no longer on palace grounds. That could only mean he was cleared by our doctors to go fight.”
“You don’t understand, uncle,” Mydeimos frantically says, folding the dough over and over. “Phainon likes to hide his injuries. That haikas never wants anybody to worry about him! He probably lied straight to our doctor’s face!”
The fear in Mydeimos’ expression hits straight at Krateros’ heart. It’s like Mydeimos is six again, when he would cuddle into Krateros’ arm and cry because his parents were an hour late to return at the time they said they would.
Krateros sighs. He spreads his arms wide. “Come here, Mydeimos,” he says, and Mydeimos pauses. He turns to him, hands white with flour and clothing stained with dough. Krateros strains his arms wider, and Mydeimos steps into the hug, eyes squeezed shut.
“He’ll be okay, Mydeimos,” Krateros said, face smushed in Mydeimos’ shoulders. Gosh, he really hates how Mydeimos is taller than him now. “Okay? Have some faith in your… your boyfriend.”
Mydeimos pulls back. “My boyfriend?”
Krateros frowns. “Is he not?”
A small smile forms on Mydeimos’ face. “Oh, he is. It’s just weird hearing it from you, uncle. That’s all.”
Krateros groans. “Oh, spare me. You know what I think of him.”
Mydeimos takes a deep breath, going back to his kneading. When he speaks up again, he sounds disappointed. “That is true. I just hope, one day, you will see Phainon for how he actually is. How kindhearted and valiant he is.”
Krateros’ lips are set in a flat line. He may not understand what Mydeimos sees in him, but now he understands how much Phainon means to Mydeimos. How much Mydeimos cares about him, and how he worries for him, so much to the point that he starts baking enough pastries for a family of seven.
“We will see,” Krateros says. He grabs a bowl and some butter from the cupboard. “Now, what are we baking?”
One month later, Gorgo and the knights return from Milios. Mydeimos all but leaps from his seat upon hearing the commotion outside, leaving Krateros to clean up their game of chess all by himself.
Krateros was winning for once, Nikador’s sake. He can always blame it on Phainon for ruining his day.
When Krateros finally joins Mydeimos outside, he sees the prince anxiously scanning the crowd for a hint of white hair. Eurypon stands next to him, doing the same except for Gorgo. As much as Krateros loathes to admit it, Mydeimos and Eurypon can be scarily similar at times.
“Eurypon, don’t look so scared,” a voice teases. Gorgo, taking off her helmet and freeing her blonde hair, walks in front of a now immensely relieved Eurypon. She pinches his cheek harshly. “Honestly, you are disrespecting my name to be this worried I’d fall.”
Eurypon ignores her and brings her into a tight hug, smothering her with kisses. “You’re the light of my world, my love. How could I be unafraid?”
Mydeimos, completely disregarding his parent’s public display of affection—is that where he got it from?—bites at his fingertips. His amber eyes flit around the crowd wildly. Krateros starts feeling so bad that he looks around with him, gaze darting around for Mydeimos’ annoying boyfriend.
It doesn’t take him too long to find Phainon, considering how Krateros is standing on a platform whilst Mydeimos stays at level with the knights. The damned man is crouching down, clearly looking for something on the ground, and the display is so pathetic that Krateros scoffs.
Seriously, Mydeimos is worrying his butt off over here, yet Phainon can dawdle around with no care in the world?!
“Phainon!” Krateros shouts. Phainon startles so bad that he drops the thing he was looking for. He mutters something under his breath and immediately goes pawing around for it again. “Get your sorry ass to your prince, right now!”
As soon as Phainon re-finds the object, he jumps to his feet and sprints over, hair tousled and wind swept. He doesn’t even get the chance to make it all the way to Mydeimos before the prince tackles him to a hug, almost strangling him with how tight he holds on.
“Woah there,” Phainon laughs, rubbing Mydeimos’ back with one hand. The other is still fisted by his side, keeping whatever object is in there nice and safe. “Miss me that much?”
“I was concerned for you, idiot,” Mydeimos grumbles. He doesn’t let go of Phainon, snuggling impossibly closer into their hug. “Think you can get away with hiding your injury from me? I noticed your sloppy steps during our spars!”
Phainon chuckles, pushing Mydeimos away slightly. The prince whines—whines!—but complies, stepping back with a slight pout on his face. Krateros wants to die. Phainon wiggles his left leg around, smiling at Mydeimos.
“See? You didn’t have to worry, Mydei,” Phainon reassures, placing his foot back on the ground. “Honestly, I just twisted my ankle. I’m a-ok.”
Mydeimos huffs, crossing his arms. “Then what’s your explanation for barely responding to any of my letters? Huh?”
Phainon pales, and rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh—you see, I was going to respond, really, but I was… distracted.” He coughs. “I was trying to figure out how to say something, um, do you mind if we go somewhere more private, Mydei?”
Krateros can’t believe his ears. Now Phainon wants privacy? After everything he’s subjected Krateros to? After those indecent acts in the sparring grounds?!
“No,” Mydeimos says, resolutely. That’s Krateros’ boy! “What you have to say will be said in front of everyone, as punishment for ghosting me.”
“Ah… okay, then,” Phainon mumbles, nervous suddenly.
Krateros narrows his eyes. Phainon better not have done something to break Mydeimos’ heart just as Krateros was beginning to warm up to him. Phainon will pay for his crimes, if so. Straight to the torture chambers; Krateros will personally forsee it.
Phainon gets down on one knee, finally revealing what was in his hands. There, within his palm, is Gorgo’s signet ring—the one that Eurypon used to propose to Gorgo, and what Eurypon’s father used to propose to his wife.
Krateros’ heart stops. He whirls his head towards the king and queen. Gorgo watches Phainon expectantly, while Eurypon looks like he’s two seconds away from throwing up. He moves just slightly, and Gorgo stops him in his tracks, hissing something into his ear.
“Um, Mydeimos,” Phainon begins, hands shaking. A crowd has begun to form around them, other knights curious to see what is going on. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous right now, but, um. I just want to say, you are the love of my life, and I know we’ve had our differences but truly there is no one else in the world I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”
Mydei stays still, quiet as a mouse. His eyes are slightly watery, Krateros notices.
Phainon continues, “When we first met that day you snuck out into the outer city”—Mydeimos stiffens—”I had just arrived at Castrum Kremnos. I didn’t know how to navigate the city, and I was completely lost. I was lucky that a cloaked beauty found me and decided to be my tour guide. I was even luckier when I showed up to the palace the next day and found out said cloaked beauty was the prince.”
Krateros is getting light-headed. Mydeimos first met Phainon while sneaking out ?! What did they do that day? If Krateros remembers correctly, there was a time two years ago where Mydeimos was out all day and all night—but Krateros just assumed Eurypon had sent him somewhere! Not that he was frolicking around with Phainon!
“From the moment you entered my life, I had never wanted anyone more. Prince, nobleman, or commonfolk—no matter what you were, Mydeimos, I would’ve fallen for you all the same. So please, would you do the honor of marrying me?” Phainon manages to get out. His knee wobbles where he puts pressure on it.
“Yes,” Mydeimos breathes out, offering his hand. “Yes, of course I will, you dumbass.” A tear streaks down his cheek, and Krateros thinks he is crying, too.
Phainon smiles widely, sliding the ring onto Mydeimos’ finger. He gets up, grabs Mydeimos by the waist, and pulls him in for a deep kiss.
The knights watching start to cheer, clapping loudly. Krateros spares another glance towards Eurypon. Unsurprisingly, the king is fully passed out, head resting on Gorgo’s lap. Krateros can only assume he dropped down when Phainon mentioned sneaking out.
“Did you have to say that, though?” Mydeimos demands when they break apart.
“Say what?” Phainon asks. He doesn’t give him the chance to respond before bringing him in for another kiss.
“About— about how we first met,” Mydeimos says in between kisses. “My— my father is going to kill you and me, you know—”
“Wouldn’t that be a romantic way to go?” Phainon sighs wistfully, “Dying together. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”
Krateros closes his eyes. He’s seen enough. He heads towards Eurypon and Gorgo, taking a seat next to the queen.
“You gave Phainon that ring, didn’t you?” Krateros asks, once he’s collected himself. For some reason, he doesn’t feel as upset about this whole thing as he should.
Gorgo strokes Eurypon’s hair leisurely. “Yup. He proved himself to me this month. Truly, no man is a better fit for Mydeimos.”
Krateros watches the newly engaged couple, Mydeimos’ wrinkled eyes as he laughs at something Phainon says. Seeing Mydeimos this happy warms Krateros’ heart. He may not like Phainon still, not completely, but…
“You’re right. There isn’t.”