Chapter Text
Mydei hates it when Phainon kneels by his feet. Behind closed doors, he's always expressed how it makes him feel like some alpha tyrant showing off a prized possession. It pains him to say it, to command it, even though Phainon never complains.
On the contrary, deep down, Phainon loves it.
"Phainon. Come to me."
The words are music to his ears. He only has eyes for Mydei as he hurriedly crosses the room to his prince's side, gracefully folding himself to his knees and laying his head against Mydei's thigh. Mydei places a hand upon Phainon's exposed neck, stroking softly.
If they were alone, Phainon might have started purring. But they're in a throne room full of people, awaiting the delegation from Adlivun, and they would never do this if not for the countless eyes watching them. Instead, he sighs so quietly that no one else can hear, not even Mydei, and takes in the warmth of his prince where they touch.
"They haven't even arrived, yet they deem themselves fit to make demands," Mydei scoffs. The tone he takes when he's like this, steadfast and confident Crown Prince Mydeimos, never fails to set Phainon's stomach aflutter. "They'd better have a good explanation prepared."
Unamused, King Eurypon says, "As if you do not flaunt your whore regardless of the occasion. In fact, it makes it all the more suspicious that you sent him away. Do you have something you wish to share, Mydeimos?"
"No. Just know that I bend to no outlander's will. Phainon is here for me."
Phainon can imagine the king's expression, impassive save for the disdain burning in his eyes like a cold flame. To think that if it hadn't been for Mydei's compassion, King Eurypon would have left him to rot in a dungeon. Now, he thinks of his own son as weak-willed for being seduced by a filthy siren such as Phainon.
The truth of their relationship, however, would do more than simply draw his ire. So, they keep pretending that Phainon is nothing more than Mydei's obedient bed warmer. If the narrative that the crown prince is wildly infatuated with his omega whore keeps lecherous and ill-intentioned men away from Phainon, then so be it.
Of course, it complicates things greatly if such men are part of the diplomatic delegation that Castrum Kremnos is hosting.
A soldier dressed in dark armour, a sharp contrast with all the Kremnoan bronze and brass, enters the throne room and bows sharply. With an impressive set of lungs, he bellows, "Lord Nanook and his generals, representing the Adlivun Warforge!"
The delegation enters with little fanfare.
Their leader is a towering man with striking golden eyes and long ashen hair. He might be wearing even less than Mydei does on a normal day, exposing tanned skin and a gigantic scar slashed across his chest. He wears it like a medal of honour. Black bandages wrap around his thick forearms.
Phainon's breath stops dead in his throat. His entire body seizes up, icy coldness washing over him in unrelenting waves.
He's met this man before.
Before he was Mydei's omega, Phainon was a warrior. A displaced swordsman with nowhere to go after his tiny village was destroyed in a war that had nothing to do with them. He didn't know exactly how long he spent wandering according to the Amphorean calendar, but he did remember the battles. Every single one.
Ladonians trying to stop him when they crossed paths, their gazes turned hungry when they realised he was an omega. He left those men to choke on their own blood. Dolos thieves trying to rob him of what little he had left, only for him to sever their sly hands for good. Out of them all, Phainon remembers Lord Nanook the clearest, though he hadn't known the man's identity at the time.
On the verge of heat and driven into a fit of blind rage, Phainon attacked upon sight. He decimated the Adlivun troops before clashing directly with the veiled general who now stands at Lord Nanook's right side. He'd lost then, struck down with a precise blow delivered using his own blade. To this day, he still doesn't know where this final surge of energy came from, but somehow, he managed to get past the general and lash out at Lord Nanook directly, slicing the man across the cheek with a single claw before collapsing.
In the silence that followed, Lord Nanook simply gazed down at him with impassive eyes, blood dripping down his face from the thin cut. Then, he signalled for his general to stand down, and they left Phainon there to bleed out on the ground. They took his sword with them.
He would've died if not for the kind-hearted band of travellers from the Twilight Courtyard who patched him up and sent him back on his way. It wasn't long after that when Phainon, unarmed and still weakened from the previous encounter, finally met his match at the hands of the Kremnoan army led by King Eurypon. He was taken back to Castrum Kremnos as spoils, ending his wandering.
Everything has come back around to this moment. Phainon, playing at being Crown Prince Mydeimos's treasured omega, stares into the golden eyes of the man who'd almost had him killed. He trembles with a terrible cocktail of rage and humiliation. Mydei, observant as ever, strokes his neck soothingly.
If Lord Nanook recognises Phainon, he shows no sign of it. There isn't even a trace of the wound that Phainon had left on him, no scar nor discolouration, as though nothing had ever happened. The warlord only blinks and directs his attention to King Eurypon and Queen Gorgo instead.
Was it he who had requested that Phainon be summoned to attend? But how could he have known where Phainon had ended up after their clash? None of it makes sense. Phainon can't think of what Lord Nanook could possibly want from him, other than seeing him at his lowest, perhaps.
Whatever they're discussing, he tunes it all out. Even Mydei's occasional contributions are muffled and unintelligible in his ears, as though a curtain of water separates them. He knows he should be listening. Information is the most valuable currency of them all for someone of his position, and it's helped him protect Mydei from the shadows more times than he can count. But all Phainon can think about is his rage from back then, the memory of it causing embers to stir to life in the pit of his chest once again.
Lost in the depths of his own mind, he doesn't notice the Antikytheran standing by Lord Nanook's left side. Though his eyes are concealed behind a marble-like mask, his attention never leaves Phainon during the discussion. Not once.
Mydei is all over Phainon once they're back in the prince's chambers.
It takes Phainon completely by surprise, gasping as Mydei backs him up against the door and scents him aggressively. His omega instinct has him going slack in Mydei's hold, tipping his head to the side to give his alpha better access to his neck. He's still taking his suppressants as diligently as ever. All of this is for Mydei. Letting him feel better by staking his claim.
"Sorry," Mydei murmurs against Phainon's skin. "Can't help it. The way that man stared at you made me want to tear him apart right then and there."
"Titans, you're a walking diplomatic disaster," Phainon laughs back, trying not to squirm beneath Mydei's touch. "Imagine, Adlivun's revered warlord steps foot into Castrum Kremnos for all of one second before the Crown Prince lunges at him-"
"I wasn't talking about Lord Nanook."
"Huh? Then, which man? The one in the veil? I'm not even sure if he has a face."
"No, the other one. The Antikytheran. Didn't you notice?"
"I'll be honest, Mydei, I wasn't really paying attention to anything just then. I was... thinking about something else."
"I thought as much. What's on your mind?"
"Get off me first, would you? Not really a conversation I want to have while I'm shoved up against your door."
Mydei pulls back immediately, stepping away quite a bit further than necessary. He won't meet Phainon's eye, and the tops of his cheeks are dusted a light pink. How cute. King Eurypon really would have Phainon's head on a spear for turning his son into this blushing, bashful creature.
They sit on the edge of Mydei's bed, a respectful distance between them now that they're out of the public eye. Phainon's mind wanders to the countless times he's thought of being tangled in the sheets with Mydei, of getting down on his knees to service his prince, of his own scent lingering here where Mydei sleeps. If his heart aches a little, it's no one's business but his own. He lifts his gaze to find Mydei staring at him expectantly.
Phainon starts, "I've crossed paths with Lord Nanook and that veiled man before. We fought, and I lost. But for some reason, they didn't kill me right then and there. I don't know if they intended to spare me or if they wanted me to suffer longer while I bled out."
"Did you speak at all?" Mydei asks, a serious look on his face. He doesn't seem at all surprised that Phainon fought a warlord and lived to tell the tale.
"No. I was a little shaken, seeing them again. That's all. My sword... they took it back then. Before your father found me."
Phainon trusts Mydei to make the connection on his own. It's not quite pity that floods Mydei's eyes when it clicks for him, but he curls his hands into fists atop his lap all the same.
"The delegation is staying for the summer festival. It'll be hard to avoid them, but I'll do what I can to keep them away from you."
"It's fine, Mydei. I can handle it."
"I trust you. Not them. Would it... be alright if I was more possessive with you?"
Please, Phainon wants to beg. I want that more than anything.
But the way that Mydei says it never fails to make a little twinge of hurt lance through him like a titankin's arrow. Like he can't stand the thought of touching Phainon any more than he must. Like it pains him to even say it.
Phainon has long grown used to it. He's had no misgivings about the exact nature of their relationship from the moment that Mydei stood before him and told him that he had no interest in Phainon's body. Mydei had granted him freedom, or as close to freedom as he could get within the palace walls. He could've wept for joy then, praising the Titans for their mercy.
Things changed. His heart changed. Bit by bit, Phainon began to fall for an alpha who didn't want him, who only took him in out of kindness. Mydei sees him as a trusted friend, a confidant in his tiny inner circle.
"That's fine," Phainon says instead, plastering a smile on his face. "Whatever it takes to sell the illusion, right?"
Mydei only hums in response. His eyes look far away, his mouth set in a line that says he isn't entirely happy about the situation.
Whatever it takes to sell the illusion. That's how it's been from the beginning. That's how it'll always be. Nothing more and nothing less.
King Eurypon and Lord Nanook appear to be getting along swimmingly.
Within days of the Adlivun delegation's arrival, a deal has already been negotiated and drafted. The Adlivun Warforge will lend its troops to aid Castrum Kremnos in beating back the Ladonians that keep threatening to invade in the east, and in return, Castrum Kremnos will supply weapons and raw materials for the Warforge's own conquests. If all goes well, it'll be officially signed by the end of the summer festival.
Good news all round, all things considered. The only one who's suffering is Phainon, who is in a constant state of mortification and despair as he tries to keep himself grounded.
During less formal talks over a meal, everyone lounges on low klinai, free to be more casual and relaxed. Mydei has Phainon half-sprawled across his lap, tucked against his chest with a strong arm around his waist. He pretends that he's not paying much attention to Phainon, but it's impossible not to notice the tension in his body. Phainon stays still and quiet, half to keep up appearances and half to hide how insanely aroused he is, pressed up against Mydei like this. It doesn't help that Mydei occasionally hand-feeds him pieces of fruit and strokes his hair.
Blessed be Kephale for suppressing herbs, and blessed be Perdikkas for turning them into the scent-blocking salve that Phainon owes his entire life to. If it weren't for the medications, the entire hall would know how much he wants Mydei to roll him over and stuff him full of cock. He's so wet right now, and Mydei doesn't even know it.
At the head of the long table, the king and queen are exchanging combat tales with Lord Nanook and a few of his generals. There's an elegant-looking lady with long pale hair who doesn't look much like a warrior, a woman with a fluttering fan that hides her sly smiles, and that veiled man who never says a word.
The only one who isn't participating is the Antikytheran, who seems more interested in the sight across from him.
"What an obedient pet you have, Prince Mydeimos."
The words alone would be enough to make Phainon bristle, but the voice is truly something else. Halting and lilting in an entirely unnatural way, it makes his stomach churn with an unsettling feeling. Phainon pretends to be shy and tucks himself closer to Mydei.
"Lord Lycurgus, correct?" Mydei says, polite enough that anyone unfamiliar with him would miss the undercurrent of coldness.
"Indeed, though Your Highness may call me Lygus if preferable. I merely wished to commend you on your taming of little Phainon here. I've heard that he was quite the feral omega before you broke him in."
Phainon could throw up at any second. His breathing quickens, and he makes a strangled noise that only Mydei can hear below the chatter in the hall. The way that this Lycurgus talks about him makes him want to peel all his skin off.
Mydei holds Phainon tighter, guiding him to tuck his face into the crook of Mydei's neck with a gentle hand on his nape. His scent takes on a soothing note, and Phainon breathes it in like he wants to drown in it.
"He didn't need taming. I simply treat him with dignity and respect," Mydei replies, unable to keep the contempt from dripping off his words this time.
"Of course, anyone can see how much little Phainon adores Your Highness," Lycurgus simpers. "Is that why Your Highness has yet to take a wife?"
Phainon's breath hitches. Mydei goes completely still.
Oblivious, or perhaps uncaring, Lycurgus carries on, "Though you are young and, ah, virile, I'm sure Your Highness is aware that your omega whore cannot fulfil your every need. My Lord is considering, perhaps, if all parties are amenable, the Warforge may present an omega of our own to strengthen the bond between Adlivun and Castrum Kremnos-"
"Lord Lycurgus," Mydei says, dangerously quiet. "I suggest you stop speaking. This topic is not up for conversation."
"Ah. I appear to have overstepped. Please accept my deepest apologies, Your Highness. I meant no disrespect."
The bastard doesn't sound sorry in the slightest.
The worst part is that he'd hit one of Phainon's greatest fears head-on. He's not wrong. Ever since Mydei took Phainon in, he hasn't even entertained the thought of taking a wife, Kremnoan or not. Phainon doesn't know why, whether it's out of some kind of self-imposed code of honour or simply that Mydei isn't interested.
Perhaps King Eurypon is waiting for the right moment to marry him off, as Lycurgus had suggested. It's more likely that a Kremnoan omega is being raised at this very moment to be Mydei's equal, worthy of challenging him to the customary duel for his hand.
The thought of it makes Phainon feel like his insides have been replaced by a yawning chasm. The image of Mydei with someone else in their rightful place by his side as the crown prince's lifelong mate haunts him like no other. It's the knowledge that when that day inevitably arrives, or maybe when Mydei crosses paths with someone who takes his breath away, Phainon will be discarded. If Mydei is merciful, he might keep him around as a concubine of sorts, but there will no longer be any room for Phainon in his life.
And it's utterly pathetic how Phainon has already accepted this cold truth. He would endure it without complaint if it meant being allowed to stay in Mydei's orbit. He doesn't have anywhere else to go. No home to return to, no place for him to start anew. His entire life is right here in this room, right here in the concavity of Mydei's palm. He wouldn't have it any other way, and being confronted so abruptly with the tangible weight of his devotion terrifies him.
Sensing his distress, Mydei runs a gentle hand up and down Phainon's back. His touch is blazing hot through the thin and sheer material of Phainon's chiton. Phainon wants to lean into it so badly, but all he can do is stay as he is. Still and quiet. Prince Mydeimos's obedient plaything.
He can't even be truthful and tell Mydei why he's so shaken because that would mean admitting his feelings. His shameful desires. The way that he took Mydei's kindness and repaid it with lust.
Worthless omega, King Eurypon had sneered at Phainon, down on his knees and defeated out there in the plains. He's always known it to be true. What good is he when he couldn't even protect those he loved? He just dreads the day that Mydei starts to see it, too.
For now, luck remains on his side. Mydei thinks that it was only Lycurgus's lecherous comments that had Phainon rattled, and it'll stay that way for as long as he can manage. All he has to do is put up with it until the Adlivun delegation leaves. He's endured much worse before, and he will endure worse in his life once he falls out of Mydei's favour.
That's just the way it is.
It all comes to a head during the banquet on the penultimate day of the summer festival.
Castrum Kremnos may not be known for flashy displays, but they do go all out every now and again. Victory banners fly even in the absence of any recent successful conquests, war dromases are decked out with jewels, and everyone puts on their best clothes. For most Kremnoans, this means exchanging their daily armour for luxurious cloth. As their crown prince, of course, Mydei is no exception.
This part of the festival is one of Phainon's favourite days of the year. It definitely has nothing to do with getting to see Mydei dressed in his finest royal attire. Not at all.
"Phainon, stop drooling."
"Shit-!"
Phainon's hand flies to his mouth, only to find it dry. He snaps his head around to glare at Hephaestion, who starts to whistle innocently as he finishes pinning Phainon's dress robes together at the back with a golden fastening. The light and airy material makes it feel like there's almost nothing on his skin, and Hephaestion has gathered the loose fabric together in strategic places to tease at the silhouette of his hips and waist. The shoulders are slit open to reveal a tantalising flash of skin.
"What in Nikador's name was that for?" Phainon grumbles.
"Just pulling your leg," Hephaestion laughs back in that breezy way of his. "But you were thinking about Mydeimos, weren't you?"
"...No, I wasn't."
"Hah, and I could beat Aquila in an arm-wrestling competition. Are you that excited to see him?"
"Listen, it's just... you know him. He never dresses up. This is one of the only times we get to see him look, well, princely! Not like he'd rolled out of bed and onto the battlefield."
"And what's wrong with that?"
Phainon swears in Elysiaen and whirls around to find Mydei standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. His now covered-up chest.
By Mnestia's grace, he looks beautiful.
His hands and arms, free from his gauntlets and bare enough to make a maiden faint, are adorned with rings and bracelets. There's a golden circlet nestled atop his hair, featuring a droplet-shaped blue gem that hangs at the centre of his forehead to match his usual earring. The blood-red of his garments is so striking that Phainon is quite literally at a loss for words, his attention entirely stolen away by the sight before him.
If he weren't so dumbstruck, he would've noticed the way that Mydei's eyes similarly grow soft as they sweep over his form. Hephaestion, thankfully spared from the pink cloud of infatuation that descended upon the two oblivious lovebirds, can only sigh and shake his head. He'd put in double the effort this year to make Phainon look absolutely ravishing, and if the night doesn't end with the two of them expecting children, he and the others will be sorely disappointed. There's also the betting pool they've got running on how long it will take before Phainon and Mydei stop dancing around their feelings, but that's a separate matter.
"Mydeimos, stop drooling."
"Shit-!"
Mydei brings a hand to his mouth, and Hephaestion cackles gleefully at having gotten both of them with the same trick. This snaps Phainon out of his daze, and he giggles along until Mydei shoots a sharp glare their way.
"It's time to go," Mydei says somewhat gruffly. "The banquet is beginning."
In other words, it's time for Phainon to become his prince's pretty eye candy.
Hephaestion lets him go after a final once-over, ensuring that there isn't a single drape or chain out of place. Phainon joins Mydei at the door and takes the arm offered to him. It's then that he notices Hephaestion had swapped his usual plain armband for a more polished one with a blue gem. Now, he and Mydei truly look the part. If the entirety of Castrum Kremnos didn't know any better, perhaps they would think that Phainon was Mydei's wife.
Thankfully, there's not much in terms of diplomacy to do tonight. First and foremost, the banquet is a chance for everyone to unwind and celebrate the year's conquests. They'll praise Nikador for blessing them with victory and triumph over their enemies. Indulging in food and drink without restraint is encouraged for once. Spirits high, citizens call out cheerfully to their prince as the pair make their way to the banquet hall. Some even extend their compliments to Phainon, too, which he accepts with a soft smile.
They have to let go of each other before entering. Even as Mydei's favoured omega, Phainon isn't permitted to enter alongside the royal family. That privilege is reserved for Mydei's future mate and consort alone.
A sharp pang strikes him all over again at the thought. Phainon shakes his head to banish it as he watches Mydei proceed with his parents, taking their places at the far end of the hall. The water features lining the walls run with golden liquid to emulate Nikador's divine blood. As is tradition, the prince, the king, and the queen all dip one hand into the water and press their palms over their hearts to honour their god. Then, war horns sound twice with a bellow that reverberates around the high ceilings, signalling the beginning of the feast.
Finally, Phainon can make his way to where he belongs. Countless eyes linger on his form as he passes. He's used to it by now. Being Mydei's omega naturally means that he draws attention to himself wherever he goes, especially with his foreign and striking features. The people may respect their prince, but it isn't enough to entirely quell the attraction in their eyes. All dressed up for the festival like this, Phainon makes for even more of a tempting sight.
How ironic that the only alpha whose attention he actually wants to attract is the one who's least interested in his body.
The Adlivun delegation is seated at the head table alongside the royal family. Phainon doesn't dare to make direct eye contact with any of them, but he watches out of his periphery. Lord Zephyro's gaze is obscured as always. Lady Phantylia and Lady Celenova sit side by side, leaning in to whisper to each other with that golden fan concealing the lower half of their faces, their eyes sweeping up and down Phainon's body as he strides past.
Tonight, Lord Lycurgus has removed his mask. His face bears markings similar to the metal plating of machinery. His eyes, as well, are entirely unhuman. Luminous and piercing. Unblinking, he stares at Phainon, who doesn't spare him a backward glance.
"Phainon. Come to me."
He only answers to one person in this room.
"Sit."
He takes the seat beside Mydei on the low kline, swallowing his gasp when Mydei pulls him closer and wraps an arm around his shoulders. A gentle hand cups his chin, holding him in place while Mydei brings a half-full goblet to his mouth. It's pomegranate juice, tart and a little sweeter than usual. Obediently, he drinks it to the last drop, his tongue darting out to lick his lips when he's finished.
The look on Mydei's face sets a fire ablaze in Phainon’s chest. His eyes are dark and hazy as though the clear amber has been clouded over by smoke. He looks like he wants to devour Phainon whole. If they were alone, Phainon would ask when Mydei had gotten so good at acting. Arousal stirs low in his stomach like molten metal. The back of his neck grows a touch warm.
"My, my, are we about to witness the conception of the next heir of Castrum Kremnos?" a sultry voice teases, snapping them out of their daze. It's Lady Phantylia, her eyes curved into sly crescents above the edge of her fan. Strangely, Phainon doesn't detect any malice in either her expression, what little he can see of it, or her voice.
Mydei clears his throat lightly, drawing back to put a respectable distance between them. Phainon mourns the loss of his closeness already.
"An amusing thought, Lady Phantylia," King Eurypon says with a derisive snort, not bothering to hide his distaste. "As... fond as my son is of his whore, he is at least responsible enough to sire no mutts."
Right. The only reason that Mydei hasn't knocked Phainon up with an entire litter of pups yet is that he's responsible. Sure.
Phainon can feel Mydei tensing up at his father's words. He must be biting his tongue, biting back his retorts. Phainon would be lying if he said it didn't make warmth bloom within him whenever Mydei gets offended on his behalf. A true man of honour.
"You would surely agree, though, Your Majesty, Prince Mydeimos and little Phainon would make beautiful children," Lady Celenova adds. Her contribution is unexpected; she didn't appear to be the type to engage in such trivial conversations.
The clench of King Eurypon's jaw is rather entertaining to watch. "Beauty is of little priority to the legacy of Castrum Kremnos."
"In Adlivun's Warforge, we hold appreciation for both beauty and strength. All I mean to say is that it is incredibly fortunate that His Highness inherited his mother's good looks."
Phainon nearly chokes on the bite of pastry that Mydei just fed him. They instantly share a glance, disbelieving and hysterical in equal measures. Even Queen Gorgo can't conceal the twitch of her lips. King Eurypon looks like he's about to pop a vein at his temple.
"Do you recall, Celenova, what Zephyro said of little Phainon after their clash?" Lady Phantylia exclaims, snapping her fan closed and clapping her hands together in delight.
"Of course. He said that he had never met an omega who was as strong as he was beautiful. A truly formidable opponent."
"Lord Zephyro previously fought with my son's omega?" King Eurypon asks slowly.
Personally, Phainon is more surprised to learn that the veiled general can speak.
Lord Zephyro nods once in affirmation.
"Your Phainon even managed to land a blow on me," Lord Nanook adds himself. His gravelly, sonorous voice makes the temperature of the air drop a few degrees as usual, but why does he sound so... proud?
Phainon blinks, thoroughly taken aback. All of a sudden, everyone is staring at him. Queen Gorgo, who's always been kind to him, if slightly critical, looks quite impressed. King Eurypon is fighting to keep his expression impassive, but the shock in his eyes is clear as day. Mydei, having previously heard this story, only smiles in pride, his thumb drawing small circles around Phainon's hip.
"It's no surprise that His Highness is so taken with little Phainon," Lady Phantylia laughs airily. "Lycurgus could hardly wait to see him in person after Zephyro told us of their encounter. I've never seen him so insistent on attending a diplomatic trip before."
So, it was Lycurgus who had requested Phainon's presence upon the delegation's arrival. Lady Phantylia's words seem like they're intended to embarrass Lycurgus by putting him on the spot so suddenly, but the Antikytheran has no protests. All he does is smile, slow and languid, and lets his eyes linger on Phainon and Phainon alone.
"I cannot deny it," Lycurgus agrees in a low drawl. "I found such defiance to be... deeply alluring. I was both surprised and pleased to see for myself how obedient little Phainon has become under His Highness."
Phainon keeps a mildly pleasant expression frozen on his face, suppressing the shudder that threatens to run down his spine. This again. What is it with Lycurgus and his obsession? Obedience, obedience, fucking obedience. Mydei had already told him the truth. Phainon wasn't conquered. He willingly gave himself to Mydei in recognition of the pure-hearted kindness that the prince had shown him from the moment they met.
"Look how shy he is," Lady Celenova remarks with a rare smile, even as her pale eyes bore into him as though she were peeling him apart in her mind. "Do you not praise him often, Crown Prince?”
Mydei replies smoothly, "My Phainon is humble at heart."
My Phainon.
When he says it so confidently, like it's just a simple truth, what else can Phainon do but swoon? He almost forgets where they are. He almost forgets himself. For a moment, Phainon looks at Mydei with all of his unfettered adoration, overflowing from every crevice of his body. Mydei looks back at him, equally as soft. Phainon has never wanted to kiss him more than he does right now.
"A toast," Lord Nanook declares suddenly, like thunder rolling across the sky, "to beauty and strength, and to the enduring bond between Adlivun and Castrum Kremnos."
The entire table lifts their goblets and drinks in response.
After enjoying the lavish meal, the guests begin to wander freely and chat while the attendants ensure that their cups are never empty. Mydei and Phainon take the first excuse to slink away from the head table, striking up a lively conversation with a few Kremnoan soldiers at the other end of the hall. They are fond of Phainon, and also trustworthy enough to know that the two of them like to spar in secret.
"Is it true, Phainon?" a young man named Hyles asks eagerly. The flush on his face and his slightly slurred speech give away his drunkenness. "Did you really face down Lord Nanook and Lord Zephyro and beat them single-handedly? With your bare fists, even?"
Seems that the story had gotten a little twisted and gained some embellishments along the way.
Phainon laughs it off and tells Hyles the truth. If the word has already spread this far, there can't be any harm in correcting the details. If anything, hearing about his loss inexplicably makes their admiration shine brighter. They're almost on the verge of tears of joy.
"I knew it," says his sister, Chironome, with pride. "Though Phainon may not be of noble blood, His Highness could never betray him."
"What do you mean by that?" Phainon asks, tilting his head. Mydei remains silent beside him, observing.
"Ah, it's just... surely you've heard? This is only the first step for Adlivun in their attempts to tie us together for generations. If all continues to go well, word on the grapevine is that they intend to present an omega for His Highness's hand."
Lycurgus again. At this point, Phainon wouldn't be surprised if he had started the rumours himself. Scouting out the territory, perhaps. Gauging the public reaction to triangulate the likelihood of success. It's one thing if King Eurypon approves. It's another matter entirely if the Kremnoan people would accept a consort from Adlivun. In some circles, many don't seem opposed to Phainon becoming Mydei's mate. Others would prefer a pure-blooded Kremnoan, or someone of noble lineage at the very least. It's no easy matter to untangle.
Hand over his heart, Hyles warbles, "I know your love is true, no matter the circumstances of your meeting! In my eyes, Phainon is the only- hic- the only one for our prince-"
Chironome smacks her brother lightly upside the head. "Alright, enough out of you. Have you forgotten who stands before you?"
Hyles snaps to attention as though he'd only just realised that Mydei was there. "Your Highness-!"
"Lay off the honey brew, Hyles," Mydei remarks, amused. "Chironome, keep an eye on him, would you?"
"Of course. Enjoy your night, Prince Mydeimos, Phainon."
The two siblings depart with that. Phainon barely has a chance to look Mydei in the eyes before Krateros approaches, a serious expression on his face.
"Mydeimos. The king wants to speak to you."
"Alright," Mydei sighs, grumbling something under his breath about never catching a break. "I'm coming."
He moves to head back to the table, but Krateros eyes the two of them warily. "...Without Phainon."
Mydei clenches his jaw and breathes steadily through his nose.
"It's fine," Phainon murmurs. "I'll wait for you."
"You know what this means."
"Well... we'll deal with it when it comes. Just like everything else."
Mydei looks torn, and his conflicted expression makes Phainon's heart ache. It's clear that he cares, enough to fight for Phainon's honour day after day, but they both knew this could never last. It's about time that Mydei takes a real wife. King Eurypon must have decided that his son has been playing with his omega toy for long enough.
What will come after that, no one can be certain.
Mydei leaves with Krateros, glancing over his shoulder at Phainon one more time. Phainon sends him a reassuring smile. It's all he can do.
It's not often that he's left alone at huge events like this. He's used to being plastered to Mydei's side, paraded around and cooed at. He figures he'll just find one of his friends and kill time that way.
Peucesta is busy with the band, performing at the right side of the banquet hall. Ptolemy is still sitting at the long table with his scholar friends, deep in some passionate debate. Perdikkas is nowhere to be seen; he'd probably returned to his clinic as soon as he could leave. Time for Phainon to go hunting for Leonnius or Hephaestion.
Phainon wades through the crowd, brushing off everyone who wants his attention with a winning smile and some slick excuse. Without Mydei's presence to ward them off, they're much bolder in inviting him to sit with them and drink. Finally, someone tells him some useful information, letting him know that Hephaestion left for the courtyard earlier to get some fresh air. Phainon hurries over, eager to escape the bustle.
A few people are hanging out in the courtyard behind the banquet hall, enjoying the moonlight and the warm summer night. He does a quick scan around but can't find any sign of Hephaestion. Maybe Phainon was too late? Or, knowing Hephaestion, maybe he'd snuck off to some hidden corner to take a nap.
Regardless, it's a good chance for Phainon to sit alone in the quiet for a moment to organise his thoughts. He'd been far more rattled tonight than he'd like to admit. For some reason, he's felt strangely anxious ever since he sat down with Mydei at the beginning of the feast. He perches himself on a ledge beneath a stone archway in a secluded corner, closing his eyes and tipping his face towards the moon.
"Ah, if it isn't little Phainon."
He jumps about a foot in the air. His heart, too, leaps into his throat. He hadn't even heard anyone approaching.
Of course. The last person in Amphoreus that he wants to see right now.
Lycurgus is standing in front of him, a goblet in his hand and a hollow smile on his face. Phainon's eyes dart around, desperately searching for any one of Lord Nanook's other generals. Surely it can't just be Lycurgus. He'd even take Lord Zephyro on in a sword fight again. No luck.
"Does my true appearance frighten you so?" Lycurgus asks, full of feigned concern. His mechanical eyes bore holes straight through Phainon's head.
"Not at all," Phainon lies through his teeth. "I was merely startled, Lord Lycurgus."
"How sweet your voice sounds, calling my name."
Phainon's eye twitches. He goes stiff all over.
"My apologies, but a friend is looking for me. I should be going."
"Indulge me and stay a while, won't you? I travelled all this way to witness your beauty first-hand. Now, we finally have an opportunity to speak without your guard dog- the Crown Prince, I mean. He is rather... possessive, is he not?"
"It is not my place to speak of those of a higher station than my humble self," Phainon replies vaguely, trying to give as much of a non-answer as he can. He pointedly ignores the first part.
"What a good omega you are," Lycurgus remarks as one might describe a well-trained hound. Phainon feels something violent clamouring in his soul. "There must be more to it. How did one unruly prince manage to tame you? Won't you tell me the secret?"
Phainon grits out, "There is no secret, Your Lordship."
"Imagine my disappointment when Zephyro and Lord Nanook returned to the Warforge with a tale about a wild and beautiful omega they clashed with, only to reveal that they left him for dead. If I had been present, I surely would have taken you back as my pet."
"Your Lordship, I don't feel that this topic is appropriate-"
"I would have enjoyed breaking you," Lycurgus breathes, stepping closer. "I would have worn down your defiant nature bit by bit until you were my perfect, obedient whore."
"Enough!" Phainon snaps, leaping to his feet to snarl openly. "You would dare to speak to me this way?"
Lycurgus only laughs, sounding more and more crazed. "Yes, that's it! Show me that rebellious anger! Your beloved prince is too occupied to come to your defence."
Mydei, Phainon's base instinct begins to clamour. Mydei, please.
Phainon shakes it off. He can handle himself. There's no need to trouble Mydei over this. He just has to get away, get back inside where Lycurgus won't dare to make a scene. He makes a bold move to slip past, but Lycurgus had anticipated it. A cold hand closes around Phainon's wrist, right over his bare scent gland. Fire tears through him.
"Do not touch me," Phainon hisses, wrenching himself free. His shoulders tremble. His instincts are clawing at his throat. The urge to stain his soul with blood is almost irresistible. That wicked monster lying dormant within him rears its head, filling his thoughts with nothing but memories of pain and anger. But he can't lose control now, even if he's itching for a battle. He can't. He'd be causing Mydei so much trouble.
"Only Prince Mydeimos is permitted, is that it?" Lycurgus sneers, backing Phainon up against the pillar of the archway. "If you were my omega, I'd have you passed around the troops. You wouldn't be so fussy then."
"Keep his name out of your unworthy mouth."
Phainon is suddenly hyper-aware of his breathing. It's too fast, too shallow. His mouth is dry, and his pulse is slamming in his ears. Lycurgus is too fucking close, he needs to get away-
"You're so sweet and docile with him. You'd do anything he asked of you. I see the look in your eyes. Tell me, little Phainon, what did he do? Did he tie you to his bed and fuck you into submission? Did he break you in on his knot? How many times? How long did you resist? Tell me!"
The heat hits Phainon all at once. It explodes within him with the force of a supernova, scorching his insides as he doubles over and gasps in agony. His knees buckle. Rough hands seize his upper arms to keep him upright, but the frigid touch feels so wrong that he thrashes wildly until he's free, collapsing to the ground on all fours, hard.
The air reeks of bitter citrus, charred and acrid. It takes him a moment to realise that it's his own distress. Phainon glares up at Lycurgus, shrinking back against the wall like a cornered animal.
"That teary-eyed expression..." Lycurgus murmurs with some kind of twisted reverence. "It only arouses me more."
"I would never yield to you," Phainon spits out, gritting his teeth. "Never."
He won't go down without a fight. He'd rather die. In this regard, Phainon fits right in with the philosophy of Castrum Kremnos's lifeblood. Diplomatic guest from Adlivun or not, if Lycurgus wants to cross the line, Phainon fucking dares him to do it and find out what happens.
"Dishonourable, Lycurgus."
Lord Zephyro appears in the periphery of Phainon's hazy vision, walking towards them slowly. His teeth grind against each other as a growl builds in his throat at the presence of yet another unfamiliar alpha. Zephyro doesn't seem bothered, barely sparing Phainon a downward glance.
"Zephyro," Lycurgus sneers, the open hostility setting Phainon's nerves on edge. "Come to claim the spoils of someone else's labour again?"
"I have no interest in your antics," Zephyro says without inflection. "Only you would stoop to such underhanded tactics."
"My comrade, you need not act so righteous, so high and mighty. Do you think no one else has noticed how much attention you've paid to little Phainon? Why don't we put aside our differences for a moment? Have a taste of him with me. I'm sure his body is resilient enough to handle two at once."
Phainon makes a small, choked-off noise as he tries to snarl, but his voice fails him. He's still panting hard, and the heat just keeps on climbing within him. Zephyro looks down at him. Phainon bares his teeth.
"Leave, Lycurgus. Lord Nanook seeks your counsel in the banquet hall."
Lycurgus lets out a frustrated growl. "If you mean to deceive me, I'll have your head."
"His lordship would sooner behead me himself if he caught wind that I used his name in vain," Zephyro retorts dryly. "He will not wait long."
For a moment, no one moves. Then, wordlessly, Lycurgus stalks away, leaving Phainon with Zephyro still standing above him. If he could spare the energy, Phainon would be laughing at himself right now. He should really be more careful what he wishes for.
Zephryo sinks to one knee in front of him, reaching out with an almost cautious hand. Phainon jerks his head away, all instincts on high alert. Not being able to see a face unnerves him deeply.
"You are as beautiful as the day we fought," Zephyro murmurs in a shockingly soft tone. It does nothing to soothe Phainon. "Though I hate to admit it, Lycurgus and I have this one thing in common. I should have taken you as my omega that day. If only my lord had permitted it."
"As if I would submit to the likes of you," Phainon hisses back.
"I see your warrior's heart. I would have proven myself worthy. I would have battled you for your hand. But your prince... he, too, is worthy. I shall respect his claim, unlike my colleague. On his behalf, I apologise for his transgressions."
Zephyro straightens up and leaves just like that. Confused, Phainon can't make head nor tail of what just happened. The pain in his abdomen crests and crashes, forcing him to press his forehead to the ground with a low whine.
"Phainon!"
He tries to lift his head at the call of his name, but another wave of aching heat rolls through him right after the sharp pain subsides. His muscles go lax, and he crumples inwards again with a low cry. The ground looks like it's spinning into a whirlpool beneath him.
"Phainon, are you alright?"
It's Hephaestion, dropping to his knees beside him. He puts a hand on Phainon's shoulder and tries to get a look at his face. Phainon flinches away at the touch, his mind still wracked with cruel images of Lycurgus standing over him, trapping him. He growls low in his throat despite himself.
"Shit- Leonnius, get Perdikkas! He's burning up. Like he's in heat, but that can't be right-"
"Lycurgus," Phainon croaks out, finally able to look around blearily. "He must have- hah, must have done something..."
Hephaestion snarls, "That bastard would dare...? We'll have to deal with him later. Did you drink anything, Phainon? Where's your cup?"
"I didn't..." he begins slowly. Then, the memory returns to him as the realisation sinks in like an ice-cold chill. Pomegranate juice. "No- no, Mydei... we shared..."
"Mydeimos is alright. He's still inside talking with his father. Can you stand? We have to get you somewhere safe..."
Whatever Phainon had ingested, it was meant for Mydei. Did he drink any of it before Phainon sat with him? If Phainon feels this terrible already, then what about Mydei? Hephaestion says he's alright, but for how much longer?
The thought of his alpha fills Phainon's mind. Mydei's voice, his scent, his touch. Mydei would make him feel better if he were here. Mydei would know what to do to stop him from spiralling back into that dark, dark place where all he knows is bloodlust and rage.
"Mydei," Phainon whispers. Hephaestion's words are lost in the pounding of his heart in his ears, making him dizzy. "Mydei, please..."
It's the last thought he has before his vision blurs, and the world falls away and takes him with it.