The old wooden door of your new home creaks open, revealing a quaint kitchen big enough for a small dining table and a living space to the right. There's a staircase leading up to rooms that you can only assume were sleeping quarters and a washroom. This old cottage was used and quite dusty, but it was much bigger than your measly apartment while living in the lively and busy city of Okhema.

With some dusting and decor that you've brought with you, you're sure you can make this place a home.

However, as you place your luggage by the staircase, three knocks come from your aged door. Curiosity paws at your mind; you aren't expecting anyone to greet you the day you move in and yet…

"Welcome to Aedes Elysiae, neighbor!"

You're greeted with the sight of two older folk smiling with a warmth that you had never experienced living in the city. A sudden visit that you don't find yourself dreading.

"Sorry for the sudden visit, you're probably unpacking and all from just moving in," the woman says, her golden eyes filled with sympathy from interrupting your peace. She's holding a wicker basket of various fruits in her arms—apples, pears, persimmons and pomegranates. Her silver hair is tied into a ponytail that rests above her right shoulder, a beautiful contrast to her golden irises that shine with kindness and youthful mirth. "But we never get any visitors, let alone a new neighbor so we couldn't help ourselves."

"I'm Hieronymus, and this is my wife Audata. We have a son as well, but he's off running errands for us. He's a charming boy, but such a slacker when it comes to finishing his tasks. I apologize in advance for his shenanigans if you ever bump into him," the man introduces himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake. And you do.

His hand is rough from years of farming, you presume. It is firm and strong, but it's not one of intimidation; you would know. With blond hair that rivals the gold of the field of grass surrounding the small village and eyes a pale blue, he looks quite youthful. But his eyes crinkle as he smiles and give way to years of experience of life that you have yet to know yourself.

You give your own name and their smiles grow brighter. "Thank you for dropping by. I would offer you both a meal for welcoming me with such excitement but…" Your eyes trail to the empty home and lack of both furnishing and food.

Hieronymus laughs heartily. "Don't worry about hospitality just yet; you're a new face. It would be rude of us to demand anything of you on your first day here."

"Instead, take this as your first gift here in Aedes Elysiae," Audata chimes in, handing you the basket of fruits. The weight is hefty in your arms and you wonder just how strong your neighbor is for her to carry this with ease. "If you need any help with moving around or getting around our small town, don't be shy to ask us."

—

The morning is chilly as the sun rises up over the golden, grassy horizon. The breeze that pushes through the small village is brisk and nips at your skin; it's a cold that you don't mind even as it bites with every gust. There's nothing about a brisk morning walk by the seaside that can't put you at ease. The village is already awake as everyone begins their day; if the sun is up then everyone is, save for the young children catching up on their rest before their busy days of youth.

The dirt pathway crunches underneath your feet as you walk above the shoreline of Aedes Elysiae, gentle waves wash up against the sand below you. The sound of the ocean and wildlife brimming with life is comforting and you inhale the salty sea air to embrace the new era of your life that you've walked into.

In.

Out.

In.

Bark.

…What?

The soft pitter-patter of paws against the dirt road and the sudden shout of warning alerts you of the incoming danger rapidly approaching. Your head turns towards the direction of the bark, merely catching a glimpse of snow white fur before there's a sudden weight slamming into you. You're knocked off of your feet with an 'oof!' and the world spins before you're looking at the sky from the floor with an eager fluffy dog licking the side of your face.

"Snowy! Oh, I'm so sorry about this!"

The furry creature is lifted off of your body and suddenly you're face to face with the bluest eyes you've ever seen. They twinkle with light like the ocean reflecting the sun as it hovers above and you find them to be the most beautiful shade of blue you have ever seen. His white hair, fluffy and pure like the clouds drifting across an endless sky, is tousled in an effortlessly messy and boyish way that fully complements his eyes.

The sun has branded itself onto the skin of his neck; golden and bright as if inked by the golden ichor that drips from the core of the blazing star. His arms are… honestly, quite big and muscular. It's hard to hide his broad chest underneath the plain white shirt and, quite frankly, you find it difficult to look anywhere else.

He's a pretty man, but one that you aren't ready to encounter in the countryside.

You don't realize you've been staring until the handsome stranger says something that you aren't able to catch, but his outstretched hand and worried demeanor gives enough context for you to answer what you didn't hear. You take his hand, calloused and firm, in yours and you're pulled up with such ease; just how strong was he?

"I'm alright. If anything, I'm happy to be the victim of something so cute," you reply. In response to your words, the big cloud of fluff barks in response and grins at you with a huge dopey smile. "I didn't quite catch your name, I just moved in so I've yet to meet everyone."

The stranger gives you a boyish grin and it nearly takes your breath away with how he's practically glowing with the sunrise just behind him, emulating a halo around his head. Was he blessed by the Titans or something…?

"Phainon, I'm Phainon. You must be the new neighbor my parents talked about the other night," the blue eyed stranger introduces himself. He lifts the pup in his arms and you notice that they both smile in a similar way. It makes your lips pull up into a smile of your own. "And this is Snowy! He's friendly, I promise. He's just very curious and excited."

Ah, is this Hieronymus and Audata's son? Getting an even better look at him, you notice that he's a perfect reflection of his parents— you recall his mother's pure white hair and his father's clear blue eyes as they stare right back at you. Hieronymus is right; he's charming indeed, and you have a rising suspicion that he shouldn't be here by the shore so early in the morning when there are fields of wheat in need of harvesting.

You tell Phainon your name and he repeats it.

"Well, neighbor. Since you're new around Aedes Elysiae, how about a tour? I know this village like the back of my hand," Phainon suggests to you with such excitement that you feel yourself wanting to agree just by the brightness in his smile. "Unless, you're busy that is."

"No," you respond with a shake of your head. "I would love a tour."

The seaside village of Aedes Elysiae is truly small; it doesn't take the full day to explore everything Phainon's hometown has to offer. Everything from the open oceanic view from Voyager's Wharf to the cobbled pathways of the Sacrament Courtyard and the forested areas beyond were all within a walkable distance. All the townhouses and family owned markets or businesses congregate into a compact town square and with a population of only a handful of people, everyone knows each other quite well. As you walk through the quaint village, many people greet Phainon with a smile and a wave and he returns the gesture with equal enthusiasm.

The older folk free of any responsibility reside in the heart of the village with the young children as they run through the old, cobbled streets with no expectations on their shoulders. And yet as you and your two white haired companions make your way closer to the center of it all, the children begin to ease their gait and the older folk speak in hushed whispers.

Curious eyes follow you around, an unfamiliar face is something rare for anyone in Aedes Elysiae to see. And slowly, like grains of sand trickling through an hourglass, you've become swarmed by children and old folk alike.

"Hello, how's the city like?"

"What made you come here?"

"Is it true that droma are everywhere in the holy city of Okhema?"

"Do you have a partner?"

Huh?

The questions swirl around you like a dizzying tornado; before you're able to answer one question another is quickly pelted at you. Small hands gently tug at the hemline of your shirt or grip your arm to grab your attention; you try to answer everyone to the best of your ability. Those who had no questions to ask were playing with Snowy—his delighted barks mix in with the clamor of the sea of curious children.

But it's a bit overwhelming and by the tenth question you can feel Phainon gently pull you aside to shield you from the swarm of eager people who have yet to venture past the golden fields of Aedes Elysiae.

"Alright, let's give our new neighbor some room to breathe," he announces with arms outstretched to gently herd them away from you. "I'm sure they'll be glad to answer all of your questions another time." You hear the collective groan of everyone, but eventually one by one they bid their farewells to you and you finally have the space to think. Snowy whines softly at the kids saying their goodbyes but quickly rejoins yours and Phainon's side; his furry tail gently whacks against your legs.

You can hear the soft chuckle from the man beside you and your gaze is immediately redirected towards his direction. Phainon is smiling at your frazzled appearance, eyes twinkling in amusement as you try to recalibrate yourself and catch your breath from the sudden attention.

"Hard work being the celebrity in town, huh?" Phainon teases you gently and you sharply exhale at his jest. "Sorry. Again, a new face always gets everyone in high spirits."

"No need to apologize. Though, I guess I shouldn't have trusted my tour guide to protect me from my new fans," you shoot back. Phainon blinks in surprise at your jab, clearly not expecting you to match his energy. Your hands reach down to pet Snowy; the large, fluffy dog seems to appreciate the attention and gives you a big dopey smile with each gentle scratch to his fur. "I'm just not used to the attention."

"Someone from the big city not used to this many people? That's a surprise," your white haired companion comments as he leans down as well to bury his hand in Snowy's white fluff. "Shouldn't this amount of people be normal to you?"

You can tell he's merely curious and that none of his words hold ill will to them; how could they when his eyes hold a sincerity that was never shown to you in the city of Okhema.

A pure blue.

"There's many people, sure," you begin with a heavy heart, as if the words you speak take a toll on your spirits the more you recall the memories before moving here, "but everyone's so busy with life that no one has time to enjoy life. We work to live over there, and it gets so lonely the longer you stay."

"It was so suffocating, I hated every living second of it," you continue to pour your heart out to your newly acquainted neighbor, something you normally wouldn't do but maybe it's something about his friendly demeanor and the fresh ocean breeze filling your lungs that's letting your small heart open for the first time in a while. "But the people living here are different, in a good way. I just need to get used to being around such friendly people welcoming me to their home."

"Well," Phainon begins with a warm smile that catches your breath, "Aedes Elysiae is known for showing hospitality to any and all guests. I hope you'll find your new home here, neighbor."

You don't know exactly why Phainon chose to listen to you ramble about your city life, but you appreciate the small gesture as you finally unload the little weight on your shoulders. Your heart swells with a feeling you haven't experienced for a long while, but you don't find it discomforting. If anything, you embrace this new beginning with open arms and you hope that it is kind to you in return.

Winter.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. The color of the wheat fields that surround the land of Aedes Elysiae fade into something more muted as the weather begins to cool down. But, like the undying flame that flickers within the heart of the sun, even the dead of winter cannot subdue the sea of golden grass that brings life to this isolated town.

The creeping cold of the winter months does not seem to deter the townspeople either; most continue on their day tending to the domestic farm animals now more than ever since crops are difficult to grow in the frosty air. The distant sounds of livestock mix in with the merry chatter of the excitable youth and working adults keep the town thriving and alive.

With each rise and fall of the sun across the horizon of Aedes Elysiae, Phainon has greeted you nearly everyday during your stay in this fishing village that he calls his home. It has come to the point where it's rather odd to not see that familiar tuft of white hair outside your cozy cottage or those ocean blue eyes that you've come accustomed to peering back at you when you're walking around Voyager's Wharf.

He's always where you least expect him to be—on your doorstep with another wicker basket filled with today's harvest from his parents' crops, bumping into you while taking a stroll on the dirt paths surrounding the ocean side with Snowy galumphing beside him adorning his signature dopey grin, by your side as you help the elderly in the village's small town square with their own errands or tasks for the day.

And even now as he helps carry and move your furniture inside your small home in Aedes Elysiae.

Your eyes follow the taller man as he pushes your couch into place in your living room; it's the last piece of furniture that you've brought back from Okhema and now your home is beginning to finally feel and look like, well, home.

There's a small, wooden dining table placed in the middle of your kitchen with a knitted tablecloth draped over the top. The designs of sunshine and wheat are delicately threaded together and bring a little brightness to your home; a handmade gift from Audata. Various pots and pans and other dishes now fill your cabinets—you hope one day you'll have enough ingredients and plates to host a thank you dinner for Phainon and his family for being so kind to you.

In your connected living room, Phainon is draped over your old, beaten up couch that he himself had lugged into your home and shoved into place according to your directions. The cool azure has long faded into a dimmer shade, but that doesn't take away from the comfort that it still offers. The fire in the hearth of your stone fireplace crackles with warmth, the embers encasing your home in an intimate glow as the sun begins to set across the ocean's skyline.

Your friendly neighbor is just as worn as your couch after lifting and pushing around your heavier furniture pieces around your quaint home. His chest heaves slightly as he catches his breath and his skin has a sheen of sweat that makes him glow golden from the warmth of the fireplace before him. His snow white hair is messier than usual from laboring in your home; white tufts sticking out in places you didn't know they could and you resist the urge to flatten them down.

You thank the Titans for gracing you with Phainon as your neighbor; had it been anyone else less handy or friendly you're not sure you would've been able to find your home in this place anytime soon.

"Thank you for helping me move all my stuff in," you thank your neighbor with a warm mug of hot cocoa pressed to the side of Phainon's face. His body perks up at the ceramic on his skin and he turns from the fireplace to face you, gratefully accepting your act of gratitude with both hands and a bright, boyish smile.

The one that you always feel your heart fluttering at.

"You really didn't have to."

"But I wanted to."

His reply is simple, and you know that he means it sincerely.

"I'm more surprised you know how to brew hot chocolate, being from the city and all. Are you sure this isn't poisoned?"

Oh, he wanted to play this game?

Your eye twitches at his dig and you reach over to snatch away the ceramic mug from Phainon's hands. Unfortunately, his reflexes are quicker than yours. His arms lift up higher than you had aimed for and, not expecting the sudden movement, you find yourself toppling over the back of your well-loved couch and flopped over onto the plush cushions beside your white haired neighbor. He's looking down at you with an amused smirk and you so desperately want to wipe it off of his pretty face.

"Give me that back, jerk. You don't deserve my gratitude anymore," you huff from below him. You lean over his lap, an arm outstretched into the space in front of Phainon's face while your other hand flattens itself on his thigh to leverage yourself up. Your fingers graze the ceramic mug and you almost snatch away the warm liquid away from the grinning madman above you.

But Phainon is quicker than you are. His long arms extend to its full length high above the both of you and far out of your reach and you can hear his soft, airy chuckle as your determined expression falls.

There it is again; those pristine pools of azure that reflect the wavering flames of the hearth peering back at you. They're filled with mirth and delight at gaining the upper hand in this situation and seeing you seethe below him, but your blazing anger dwindles down as you stare into the endless sky above you. His tufts of fluffy, messy white hair frame his face, seemingly soft to the touch and your fingers twitch. From this angle, he truly resembles his pup and you wonder if the texture will also be similar.

Phainon is hot, his heat emanates from his body and consumes you from the proximity of your body to his. Compared to the heat of the hearth, it's like the sun has found its home in his soul, embracing you in its gentle yet searing warmth. He's closer to you than you had anticipated and there's nowhere to hide from those twinkling eyes as they gaze down at you—and he cannot hide from you either. You're close enough to count how many pure, white lashes line his eyes, the places on his skin where the sun has kissed and left its mark in the form of faint freckles that are invisible from a distance, and the faint blush that runs across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

You wonder if you have anything to do with that, or if it's just a matter of being to close for only being neighbors.

Probably because you're just neighbors.

As you open your mouth to fire another quick and snarky remark at your smug companion, your stomach grumbles in place of your voice; a low, gurgling growl like the rumbling of a wildcat. There's a thick silence between the two of you as you both digest the sudden noise that erupted from the deepest pit of your stomach.

And then Phainon is laughing; a deep, hearty laugh that comes from his gut and you can feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. There's a wide, jovial smile that spreads from cheek to cheek; so boyish and charming that you want to wipe it off of his face but can't find it in your heart to do so. He sets down the warmed mug of hot chocolate on the small table by the side of your worn blue couch and helps you sit upright so that you're no longer leaning on his lap, eye to eye with his mirthful gaze.

"That reminds me, my parents invited you for dinner tonight if you're up to it." You can see the corners of his eyes creasing even more as his smile widens. "Though, I think your own stomach gave away your answer before I could even ask you."

A light punch is thrown to his arm and he's laughing again, this time more subdued. Gentler.

Phainon stands up from your worn blue couch, dusting off his trousers with gentle pats. Then, he offers his hand to you, palm side up and a delicate smile that you can't refuse. And with bated breath and a heart that skips a beat, your hand slides into rough palms and Phainon is pulling you up.

His ears remain a dusty shade of pink, but you don't bring it up.

—

Dinner was as decadent and filling as usual; Audata's cooking never ceases to to amaze and comfort you to no end. Every bite of meat is so tender that it melts on your tongue and the vegetables are roasted and seasoned to perfection that pairs so perfectly well with the main course. Despite wanting to be a courteous guest and only eat one plate, every time you finished a portion of food you would find it replaced with another portion and Audata or Heironymus smiling at you with such familiarity and affection that it's difficult to turn down their offers.

"You need to eat well in this weather. Wouldn't want you to fall ill, neighbor," Audata talks to you with such tenderness, as if you were her own, and it completely melts away at your resistance and you let her fill your plate again and again.

Until you're full to the brim of a pleasant home cooked meal with some leftovers in a covered wicker basket to take back home, courtesy of Audata herself.

The winter wind is cruel on your way back home, especially after sundown, nipping at any exposed skin like barbed wire whipping at your body. It is unforgiving as it blows nothing but dry, cool air to your exposed face until your cheeks and nose are cool to the touch and numb of any sensation. Yet, with nothing but frigid air greeting you as soon as you exit Phainon's home, your heart is tender and warm from the loving dinner served to you with amicable company.

And warm from the person who followed you out of his own home and now walks side by side with you in the night, your basket of leftovers held in his hand and an embroidered lilac scarf around his neck.

It's silent between you two with only the distant sound of the sea lapping up against the shores of Aedes Elysiae and the crunch of the dirt underneath your shoes filling the the space between you. Quiet, but not awkward in the slightest. Although the walk to your home isn't far, you appreciate his effort to escort you in the night.

"Sorry for my parents," Phainon's words break the comfortable silence, his voice quiet to match the surroundings of the night. "They can be a bit much, but they mean well. And they like you."

You exhale sharply, a soft laugh, and your lips curl upward in a smile. Your head turns to look at him; Phainon is bashfully looking at you, a timid smile on his own lips and his free hand rubbing the back of his neck in his embarrassment.

It's cute.

"Don't apologize," you begin, "I'm not used to this type of affection from family, but I don't hate it."

There's a flash across Phainon's expression. His eyes widen slightly and his brows fly up for only a millisecond; there's a question on the tip of his tongue but, thankfully, he doesn't press any further.

"Good, my parents have so much love to share. I'm sure they won't mind letting it overflow into you," Phainon continues the conversation with ease. "Not that you have a choice. They're fond of you, you know?"

There's a certain tenderness in the way he looks at you, like even he reflects the endearment of his own parents. His blue eyes are warm, reminiscent of the sea by sundown when the remaining rays of light cast the gentle waves in a golden light.

Affectionate and inviting; does he share the same sentiments? The question is on the tip of your tongue, but the cold freezes your mouth shut.

You take a wrong step forward and your hand brushes against Phainon's. For a second, the warmth of his hand seeps into your skin like an invitation to wrap yourself around it to flee from the chill of winter. Instead, an apology slips through your lips in a soft murmur and you pull your hand away.

The warmth of Phainon's body seems to melt into you as his hand darts forward, enveloping yours in his with one swift movement. The heat from his palm pressed into yours melts away the frigid air surrounding you two and you can feel your heartbeat pick up in tempo; an accelerando that you can't control no matter how much you try to calm yourself.

You don't pull away.

"How was winter in Okhema like? Livelier than Aedes Elysiae, I presume," Phainon asks. "Did you get to spend it with your family?"

You shrug your shoulders. "It was lively and enjoyable when you had the people to share the season with. Often times, my friends would be spending winter with their own families so I wasn't able to spend many winters with them."

You take a breath recalling the memories of your family. "But whenever my family was able to visit me in Okhema, those winters weren't too bad."

A weight seems to float off of your shoulders as the recollections of your winters in the city begin to resurface. Not that any of them were too remarkable; often times they would be lonely as your family chose to stay home for the colder season or the weather was too rough for either of you guys to go and visit one another. But the times that were good felt so good and comforting that you couldn't help the warmth flooding to your chest as you begin to recall them.

You tell them all to Phainon, who is eagerly listening to every word you say; every tale of family or friend back in the city is met with an attentive nod and a gentle tug of your hand when you're too invested in a story to notice the rock in your path.

Before you know it, your small home is in sight—a yellow tulip hangs by your door with wind chimes dangling at the bottom of the wooden green stem dances in the wintry winds, a gentle tinkling melody sings through the night. For once in this new life of yours, you don't want to go home just yet and leave the comfort that you find in this intimate moment shared with a man you never would've expected to grow fond of. But the destination is inevitable and you're standing face to face to your white haired neighbor outside the front door of your humble home.

"Sorry, I was talking so much about myself and Okhema. You should've told me to be quiet." The heat rises to the back of your neck and your free hand reaches up to bashfully rub the burning skin. "I'm sorry if I bored you with all that."

There's a gentle squeeze to your hand; your eyes flit up to meet his and you're met with nothing but the softest smile grazing Phainon's lips.

"Don't apologize for something like that," he begins, with a tilt of his head. From this angle you can see those azure eyes of his so clearly—lustrous and kind, twinkling with something you can't quite decipher just yet. "Why would I stop you from sharing a part of your life with me?"

You don't answer, letting the calm winter night do the answer for you.

"…I have a friend living in Okhema now, actually," Phainon brings up as the silence finally settles between you two, effectively breaking it with a new conversation with a smile so gentle it could soothe the swirling winds coming from the sea.

"Oh? A friend… or something more?" You gently nudge him with your shoulder and Phainon chuckles softly before shaking his head.

"No, just a good friend. She grew up with me in Aedes Elysiae and only left recently for a new job opportunity," Phainon continues with gentle smile. "I'm happy for her, and of course I supported her decision in leaving."

He pauses briefly, taking a deep breath as the memories flow like a movie behind his eyes; a movie you can't see but, from the warmth that seems to grow in his visage, you didn't need to witness it all to know they were cherished and dear to him. "But things have been lonely without her, I won't deny that."

Something sombre twists in Phainon's expression; your body instinctively urges you to try and comfort him in the way that he comforted you in the small moments leading up to this. But the fear of overstepping a boundary you aren't sure of freezes your body in place and all you can do is listen to him.

And yet there's a certain fondness in his eyes that turn such a cool shade of blue so warm when he looks at you that stirs your heart; it skips a beat and your breath hitches at an unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.

"That's why… I'm glad that you've moved here. Having a new face to welcome in has really made this small town feel less small, despite the said person being so small." Phainon's words would have moved you greatly, but you gently shove him again with your shoulder after hearing the gentle diss at your height. He laughs heartily, filling your chest with something tender. "There, a part of my life shared with you in return for sharing with me."

There's another pause in the conversation; not awkward, but one fitting of the amicable atmosphere shared between two friends. A cool breeze rushes past you, chilling your body to the bone. Your body stiffens in response and a shiver travels up through you from head to toe—there's a sharp exhale of laughter in front of you.

"You should head inside now, it's getting late, neighbor," Phainon tells you, letting go of your hand in the process. There's a pang in your heart at the empty space, but you don't dwell too much on the feeling.

Phainon's nose and the tips of his ears are rosy, nipped by the frosty winter air. Yet, there's not a hint on his face that indicates that winter is even present. He's grinning from ear to ear with stars dancing in his eyes; mirthful and joyous as he is nothing but spring incarnate and you are the sole victim to wintry winds.

Through delicate, quiet chuckles, your messy white haired neighbor unravels the knit scarf around his neck and drapes it over your shoulders; the lilac yarn is soft as it touches your skin. It's still warm from absorbing Phainon's body heat and the scent of the sea breeze and fresh linen fills your senses as he wraps the scarf twice over your neck—you want to bury yourself into it and get lost in the newfound comfort he seems to bring you.

Spring.

Luckily, the dreary winter season seems to come and go in the blink of an eye and, before you know it, your days begin to stretch a bit longer and the sun starts to warm the earth with rays that kiss the surface at the break of dawn and don't disappear until the moon has decided it's her time to soothe the busybodies of Aedes Elysiae. Even the cold surrounding the small town of Aedes Elysiae seems to brighten up, not that it ever was dull in the winter, but the changing seasons bring a change of mood and a new harvest.

The markets and businesses that make up the small town square slowly fill with life as more and more produce begins to sell and seeds for future harvests are displayed for the local farmers to get their hands on for the welcome of spring.

The welcome of a new season.

Phainon's family's farm isn't too far from your own home, you know this quite well from one too many trips to his place for dinner; his mother always had the excuse of making too much and that leftovers were a hassle to deal with and how could you ever say no to her. Audata and her son were truly one and the same with their ability to utilize such a pitiful expression on their faces and team up on you to stay for a meal or two.

Though this time, you're offering something for once; the same wicker basket used to carry goods from Phainon's household to yours and back filled with a warm lunch that you've prepared yourself. It isn't much, but it's something homemade and made with love that you hope would be enough to convey your thanks for being so kind to you since day one.

Phainon's farmhouse peers above the dirt road as you approach it; the distant sounds of the farm life awake in the early afternoon are evident signs that the whole household is busy at work. You spot Phainon's mother first; her silver hair shines brilliantly in the sunlight and her golden eyes seem to brighten up more than they already are as she recognizes your figure at the entryway of their farm. She is carrying a large bundle of hay near the front of their home, a small group of lambs tail behind her as they try to steal some of the dried grass before the rest of them can. Their own mother nips at the little rascals even though she's clearly stealing a couple strands of hay here and there as well.

"Oh, greetings neighbor!" Audata chirps, throwing the dry grass in one of the nearby bins before turning to you with a smile brighter than the sun. "What brings you here, dear? My son, perhaps?" She sends you a playful wink and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks at her teasing.

"Not really? I made you guys lunch as thanks for taking care of me so many times." You meekly hold up the familiar wicker basket and Audata's smile melts into something more endearing. "I thought that this was the least I could do… for a friend and his family."

The wicker basket is taken from your hands accompanied by a knowing gaze from Audata, but she doesn't tease you any further. "You're such a sweetheart. I'm sure the meal you've prepared for us is going to be delicious. I'll call my husband inside since he's near, but my son is a bit farther away into the fields. Would you be a dear and call in Phainon for me?"

The trek into the fields of their family farm is a bit daunting; the sun is bright and high enough into the sky to illuminate everything in your path, but the fields seem to be continuously rolling in every direction that you're worried you'll either get lost or not be able to spot your neighbor. Or perhaps it's intimidating because you'll have to see your neighbor, your handsome and charming neighbor that never seems to fail in making your days brighter even through the darkest times in winter.

Is it excitement that's thrumming in your chest? Your stomach is flipping, but you aren't sure of the reason why. Maybe you missed seeing those messy tufts of silver and those beautiful, crystalline eyes that never seem to stop glimmering when looking at you.

Yeah, that's all.

As your eyes scan the field to your left, you're met with a familiar body hunched over green bushes. There's a large wicker basket strapped to his broad back filled to the near brim with orange carrots and a straw hat resting on his head to block the sun from his face. Your heart skips a beat when he stands to his full height; a loose gray-ish shirt cut off at the sleeves that allowed his built arms to be on display, the collar of said shirt dips low enough to show his collarbone and the muscular chest that teases you just enough, and his blue eyes hazy from the labor and heat of being on the field. His tattoos, a golden sun on the base of his neck and shoulder and a ring that crosses his chest, shine in the sun, almost as if his skin was inked with the golden ichor of the gods.

A gloved hand reaches for his collar, pulling it up to wipe away the sweat accumulating on his face and you catch a glimpse of his navel; small tufts of white peek through for just a moment before his shirt falls again and you're met with those familiar, those gorgeous seas of blue as they twinkle like sunlight reflected off of the sea at the mere sight of you.

"Neighbor!" Phainon calls out to you with a boyish grin spreading across his lips. You've seen this cute smile one too many times; you've grown used to his charms and how he seems to get even prettier with the sun shining on him directly. But seeing such a sweet smile in contrast to the appearance of his body stirs your heart in a way that you can't quite determine whether or not feels good.

Your scrambled thoughts are quickly shooed away as your neighbor saunters over to you. With every step he takes, his sculpted body and sweat-stained skin are even more prominent and you send a quick prayer to Kephale in hopes of keeping a sane disposition in front of him.

The shade of his straw hat cannot hide the excitement of seeing you on Phainon's face—if he had a tail like Snowy you're sure it would be wagging so hard that it would be sore tomorrow. Upon closer inspection, you notice some streaks of dirt on his face. He must've made the mess from wiping away his sweat throughout the day.

You pull out a small, folded cloth from your pocket and hold it out to him; a small blue handkerchief with a small purple dromas embroidered into the corner. Phainon peers at down at it with curiosity before he leans down closer to your height, to your surprise.

"What brings you here?" Phainon asks, closing his eyes with a flutter of his white eyelashes. They're long and beautiful, much to your dismay—must he always be blessed in every which way? You slowly unravel the small handkerchief from your hands and reach over to gently wipe away the sweat dripping from his forehead and the dirt smeared across his cheeks.

His face is soft under your touch—a contrast to the roughness of his hands, you mentally note. With every graze of your fingers against his skin, Phainon leans closer to your touch.

"I-" You begin, but your voice cracks from the nerves threatening to leap out of your skin. You clear your throat and try your best to ignore the heat spreading from your chest to the tips of your trembling fingers. His eyes open; he's already peering down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as an affectionate smile sprawls across his lips and the handkerchief nearly slips from your fingers.

He's looking at you like you hold the life of the planet in your hands and your heart thumps against your chest, threatening to leap out the longer you bask in Phainon's warmth. Can he hear the simple beating of your heart? You hope not.

"You…?" He trails after you, no hint of pulling away from your hands that rest comfortably on his cheeks. If anything, he looks right at home resting in the palm of your hands with his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with nothing but mirth at the mere sight of you. The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit more and he scrunches his nose in response to your eyes trailing on his visage; cute, but you don't tell him that,

"I brought some lunch over. Your mother told me to call you in to eat together."

His smile seems to grow at your news. "Will you be joining us for a meal?"

"I only made enough for you all. Besides, I've already eaten lunch before heading over here. I couldn't possibly stay for more than I need to," you explain.

"Aw, shucks. That's unfortunate. You'll break my ma's heart…" Phainon's expression seemingly falls, the metaphorical ears and tail that were upright and wagging before now drooping as his expression melts into something more pitiful. With his face still in the palm of your hands, it's dastardly how a mere pout from him could tug at your heartstrings in such a way.

With a heavy sigh, your shoulders slump in defeat and you don't even need to look at Phainon's expression to know he's perking up at your demeanor. Your finger and thumb pinch at his cheek, his punishment for taking advantage of his mother and himself to manipulate you into whatever he wants to do. "Fine, but only this once."

"You said that the last fifty times we've invited you to a meal at- Ouch!"

You're already walking away from your neighbor at this point, escaping his teasing words by creating some physical distance. But his feet carry him right by your side in a few easy strides like they always do.

—

Aedes Elysiae seems to be bursting with life as Anthos Day, the day celebrating the Spring Solstice, looms just beyond the corner. The children eagerly whisper to one another as the hours of light begin to get longer and the season begins to warm; allowing for more playtime in the evening before the sun sets to signal the end of the day. The elderly talk amongst themselves, brainstorming of what dishes to bring to celebrate Anthos Day and share with the other townsfolk; your ears perk whenever someone mentions something that piques your appetite and you send a silent prayer that they follow through with their promises.

The younger adults are busy with their own harvests as well, preparing the most bountiful crops and animal products to share with others or flowers to decorate the quaint village with. There are eager teens helping their parents paint eggshells for the annual egg hunt hosted for the youth; the bright pastels of each painted shell are decorated with delicate designs and soft palettes and you take a mental note to snatch at least one during the hunt.

The morning is cool, but the rising sun encases Aedes Elysiae in its creeping warmth as a new dawn begins. Birds begin to wake with a song to greet the break of day with the gentle waves rolling along the shorelines of your small town as the harmony supporting their interwoven melody of chirps and tweets.

Phainon is sitting beside you, his knee bumping into yours occasionally as the two of you hunch over your kitchen table. The white and blue gingham tablecloth is littered with various wildflowers and golden stalks of wheat which would occasionally be picked up by deft or unskilled fingers alike. As the season of Spring makes its grand appearance in Aedes Elysiae, it's tradition for wreaths of flowers or wheat alike to be adorned by all in celebration of Anthos day.

Your fingers aren't as adept to weaving strands of plants together as your neighbor is, even with his careful advice and guidance, your wreath isn't as… grandiose as you would like it to be. With the flower stems weakly braided into place and empty patches scattered here and there, your wreath looks more like… a sad, rope of flowers tied together with a knot, especially in comparison to the beautiful golden wreath that Phainon has woven in the midst of your pleasant conversation from earlier.

You try not to bring any attention to your little attempt at weaving, but your silence from the conversation is enough for your neighbor to notice. As blue eyes peer down at your lap, a sympathetic smile grows on his lips.

"You're… not quite good at this, are you?" There's a playful lilt in his tone and usually you would attempt to fire back anything in response, but the embarrassment of your limp and measly wreath overpowers the need to punch him.

"I mean… I tried? Maybe I'm just not built for this. I could always buy one-"

"Hey, come on now. You shouldn't give up just like that," Phainon interjects with a gentle tone. All playfulness has melted away into something much more tender and caring as he scoots his chair a little closer to you. "Here, I'll help you. See this? You'll have to make a knot here and then loop it…"

Phainon's fingers have taken a hold of your flimsy wreath, gently weaving and braiding the flower stems into the correct way in order for the wreath to form and take shape. They lightly brush against yours as he guides your own fingers to follow his directions. Although his teaching is clear and concise and with the additional hands-on learning, you're sure to get the weaving by the end of it. The only issue is…

You're aware of his proximity to you; how close his body is to yours, his rough fingertips grazing along your skin as the wreath slowly gets braided, his warmth seeping into you as his thigh presses against yours. The smell of fresh laundry, the sea breeze, and light, clean citrus intermingle with your senses and it's all you can think about as your neighbor's arm brushes against your own.

His voice is gentle, so sweet and calming, as he instructs you through the process of weaving a wreath and you find it almost addicting to listen to. Not that he didn't have a nice voice until now it's just… maybe it was the changing of seasons that's affecting your hearing and your senses.

Phainon is just a friend, after all. A friend who happens to be so kind to you and be attractive both in physical appearance and in regards to personality.

Honestly, the old grannies of Aedes Elysiae were right in their desire to have him as their future grandson-in-law; he's always so helpful to the community in this small village. Even when he's playing hooky with his parents, he would never turn his back to the people around Aedes Elysiae that need his help. He's never far behind in aiding the older women carry their groceries or harvests back home or playing with the cheerful children running amok along the dirt roads.

It just so happens to be that he's charming in his appearance too.

You wonder what his future partner would be like; would they get along with his family as well? Would they be just as beloved in this small village as he is? Would he be showing the affection that he shares with you to them as well? Or perhaps he would stop it with you altogether so that they wouldn't feel weird about your relationship? Would they also share meals with his family and be invited over for meals? Would they get to see the cute smile Phainon always shares with you when he meets their eyes?

Would he stop being your friend if they asked him to?

You know that wouldn't be the case; Phainon isn't one to ditch his friends for a loved one. At least… you hope that he isn't.

The thought of being distant with your dear friend because of a future significant other pains you, the thought of no longer being welcome to his family alone strikes your heart with a grief you didn't know could hit you.

"You listening, neighbor?"

Yet, when Phainon calls your name to bring your attention back to the importance of weaving wreaths, the anxieties eating away at your mind seem to ebb away. Like a lighthouse guiding the ships to the safety of their docks, Phainon has become your safe haven. You didn't realize how much he affected you and your daily life.

Just a call of your name and suddenly the fog of winter has cleared and spring has emerged to guide you to its warmth.

"Y-yeah, I am."

The wreath of flowers have come to fruition with the aid of Phainon and the colorful blooms are so beautiful woven into one another. If you had compared it to the flimsy one you had made earlier, you wouldn't have believed that that turned into something so pretty.

"I can't believe we made this…" You whisper in disbelief, holding up the braided flora in your hands. Phainon chuckles softly, a large hand holds onto your wrist so can he gently push the wreath away so he could see you. Twinkling sapphires meet your own, playful mirth swimming in every hue as the corners of his eyes crinkle with his beaming smile.

"No, you made this all on your own. I just helped you a little bit." His voice is just as warm as he is, like the sun had melted away into one with his soul. You wonder if he would entertain you if you told him that you'd want to listen to it forever.

"Oh, please. I couldn't have done this without you, Phainon," You counter back with a quiet laugh. The morning sun's rays shine through the window, casting a bright and homey glow into your kitchen. The blues and yellows of the flowers of your wreath pair well together; they remind you of someone. Blue like the vast ocean that holds the world's beauty in every wave and yellow like the golden sea of wheat that billow in the wind; each a reminder of your new life built in this small fishing village that you never would've expected to love so much.

Blue and yellow, like the wildflowers that grow on the grassy meadows near the forest bordering Aedes Elysiae—forget-me-nots, as Phainon had once told you before—and the ones woven into your beautiful wreath. Remembrance and connection.

Blue and yellow, like the colors that always bring you to peace. Blue and yellow, like Phainon.

Your hands raise the wreath once more, high enough to reach over your neighbor's head until it's placed gently on top a sea of fluffy white hair. Your fingers brush against the tufts; soft, just like Snowy's. He's looking at you with wide eyes, surprise etched into his expression and the softest dust of pink along the tips of his ears—was it getting warmer already? He looks like a prince of the forest with the braided wildflowers on his head; the perfect example of elegant beauty, a person blessed by the gods.

"But if this is all mine, then allow me to gift this beautiful wreath to someone worthy enough for it."

Phainon chuckles at your words, light and airy, before he lifts his own golden wreath. The stalks of wheat rest on your ears as his fingers gently place them down, calloused fingers softly brushing against the side of your cheek as he pulls away from your face. "Then, allow me to do the same."

With a bright smile, you spritely turn your head from side to side to model the golden wreath sitting on top of your ears.

"What do you think? Won't we be a pretty sight at the festival with these?"

"Yeah."

His breathy, quiet response to your playful question catches you off guard. Your eyes flit up to meet his and you're met face to face with the most tender expression Phainon has ever given you. His eyes are half lidded, smile barely curled up into something sweet, and, with the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, he's glowing with something you can't quite put your finger on. He's made of starlight, and you fear you've become addicted to the warmth of his radiance.

As his eyes, that beautiful shade of blue that you've come to find your solace in, gleam at the sight of his golden wreath of wheat stalks shining brilliantly in your hair, you've come to a realization all on your own.

You like Phainon. You like him a lot.

—

You aren't exactly quite sure how you got here adorning a pair of borrowed overalls and some worn out boots as you crouch down in the golden grass. The woven straw hat sitting on top of your head blends you in with the surrounding flora and your slow movements could hardly be heard through the hot breeze that sifts through the field of grass.

Well… Correction. You do know how you got here. One cute neighbor requesting your help and taking advantage of his pretty face; how could you ever turn him down? Maybe you've grown too much of a soft spot for him. Who knows what kind of shenanigans he'll get you to do, like hunting down the baby chicks that happened to escape the coop right before the sun has set. Luckily, by the time you've got there, Hieronymus had managed to capture some of the little rascals.

Chirp.

Chirp. Chirp. Tweet.

The sound of tiny, little tweets catches your attention and your head snaps to your right. A handful of small, plump feathery chicks are bundled up beside one another hidden beside stalks of golden grass. It seems like a majority of the missing ones are here, thank goodness. But figuring out how to snag all of them without losing sight of any…

You inch closer, careful not to make any sounds or sudden movements. A hand slowly reaches outward with fingers stretched to hopefully scoop them all in one go and-

"Hey! Get back here!" You exclaim as you lunge forward. Two chicks have successfully been captured, but the other two have scattered off in two different directions. The captured duo seem to chirp and squirm within your grip and luckily the pocket in your overalls is deep enough to comfortably hold them so your hands could remain free.

Quick on your feet, you dash towards the escaping babies with clumsy grace; your city body isn't quite used to running around in boots and trampling through golden grass but here you are doing so anyways.

The chicks are faster and much more agile than you are clunking around in clothes you're unfamiliar with. But, thankfully, you've outsmart the young chicks and with one more jump forward, you've collapsed to the ground with heavy breaths, the remaining baby chicks squirming in your hands and the other two chirping incessantly in your front pocket.

Phainon greets you with a whistle as you return to the coop all rustled up; four baby chicks tweet and wiggle and writhe in your pocket. There's a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips and his eyes rake over your body to take in every detail—your hair is a mess, there's dirt everywhere on your clothes, and you're sweating profusely from chasing around little chicks amidst the farm. Truly, you're the definition of beauty and grace at this very moment.

"Babies gave you a rough time, neighbor?" Phainon teases you, following your movements as you trudge forward and drop off the little fluff balls into the coop. They chirp incessantly before huddling into their mother's bosom after a shrill squawk.

"Yeah, all thanks to you," You grumble. You wipe away at the sweat on your forehead with your arm, causing a small chuckle to arise from the man beside you.

"Here, you're making a mess of yourself." A familiar small, blue handkerchief with a purple dromas embroidered in the corner is handed to you; correction, your own handkerchief is handed to you.

You take it, narrowing your eyes at the grinning man before you. "I was wondering where that went. You stole it from me?"

"More like keeping it clean and safe for you," He says with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "You're welcome, by the way."

It smells like him, you notice as you unfold the little handkerchief and hold it to your face—the all too intimate scent of ocean breeze, clean linen, and faint citrus flood your senses as you gently wipe away the sweat and grime of the day off of your face. When you meet his gaze again, he's giving you that look again; his head tilted at a slight angle, eyes softening at the sight of you, and smiling like you have all the answers he has been looking for.

It sends your heart racing.

"You missed a spot, neighbor." Phainon's voice is gentle, tender in all of the right ways as he raises his hand closer to your face. You flinch initially when his finger brushes against your skin, but his warmth is an addictive feeling. Fingers calloused from years of experience working as a farmhand wipe away the remaining dirt from your cheekbone; a delicate touch, as if he were handling the most precious porcelain. "There, pretty as always."

His words strike a chord within you, one so consonant that the overtones ring through every part of your heart. His compliment is small and yet your chest is so light, it feels like you could fly.

"So you think I'm pretty?" You jest, a feeble attempt at calming your nerves.

"I do." And he crumbles it all with two simple words. Warmth floods your cheeks, burning you up from the inside. You hope that he's joking, but your heart skips a beat seeing the sincerity gleaming in his eyes. His gaze never leaves yours; if anything, the seem to glow brighter at your reaction to him. His thumb brushes against your cheek again as his palm rests against your jaw to hold it—you can't hide your expression from him now.

"I really do think you're pretty."

"You shouldn't say things like that. People will get the wrong idea." Your gaze falls to anywhere but your neighbor. Phainon can most definitely feel the heat radiating off of your face at this point; your heart is hammering so hard against your chest, carrying the blood to the apples of your cheeks and the tips of your ears. You want to disappear and, at the same time, melt into his touch.

"That I like you?" He asks, a lilt to his voice. "They wouldn't be wrong then."

"Is it okay to kiss you?" Phainon's voice is barely above a whisper, but they're louder and clearer than ever to you. Your eyes finally meet his when he calls your name; endless blue takes your breath away. It's like a melody to your ears the way your name falls so easily from his lips—he has called it countless times but in this very moment it falls with a perfect cadence.

You nod your head.

When his lips finally meet yours… it's honestly quite clumsy. As the nerves eat the both of you alive, Phainon leans in a bit too fast and crashes into your lips. Your noses bump, your teeth clack against each other in an awkward way and, in shock, the both of you pull away with wide eyes and parted lips before hearty laughter fills the space between you two.

"I'm sorry, let me try that again."

His lips press against yours in a sweet, yet simple kiss. It's one that shares the months of yearning shared between the two of you in these months of rebuilding your life in Aedes Elysiae; soft, affectionate, and sentimental. When you begin to pull away, thinking it was over, Phainon's strong arms pull you back in for another kiss. And another, with his confessions of love murmured to you in between each kiss.

A kiss or two to celebrate a new love, and a new beginning.

“Sweetheart?” Childe’s voice calls out for you. “Are you home?”

A head of orange curls pokes out from the doorway of your kitchen and immediately a bright smile grows on his face. With quick strides, you’re enveloped into a warm hug; the comforting scent of citrus and the salty breeze of the ocean surrounds you and it was like all of your worries for today just melt away as soon as his arms wrap around you. Childe’s scent, his entire presence, was something you found yourself easily melting into.

The deep ocean stares back at you, the dark seas twinkling lightly as they reflect their affections for you. It’s a rare sight to see such light in his eyes according to most others, like his short grumpy coworker who always picks a fight with your lover, but you’re glad that the stars reflected in his eyes are a sight reserved only for you to see.

“You’re wearing my shirt…” he murmurs quietly as he takes in the sight of you. Rough fingers fiddle with the edge of the maroon shirt over your form and he smiles sweetly. A soft kiss is pressed onto your cheek, gentle lips tickling your skin and you fight back a smile as more are firmly pressed along your face. If they had left marks, there would be a freckle of kisses along your visage.

“What’s all this?” Childe asks. His chin rests on your shoulder as he peeks over your body, but you reflexively shift your shoulders to shield the mess from his field of view. He attempts again and your head tilts in his way. A soft chuckle is heard beside your ear before his arms hold your body still and he successfully gets a view of the cake behind you, much to your dismay. 

“I was trying to make you a cake, but the decorating isn’t going as planned…” You murmur softly, eyes averting his gaze when he glances back to you. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes knowing the state of his cake. “Don’t laugh, I know it’s ugly right now.”

You’re fully expecting your boyfriend to tease you for the misshapen cake you decided to dedicate to him; it’s not unusual for the two of you to bicker and poke fun at one another. It was something that you loved about your relationship, but this was something you really tried your hardest on and if he made fun of you for this you were sure to start crying in front of him. 

A burning sensation begins to build in your eyes as you prepare for your lover’s remark.

“Oh, my beloved,” Childe coos. A gentle hand cups your jaw and guides your face in his direction; your eyes hesitantly meet his gaze and you want to cry even more with the way he looks at you. There’s nothing but affectionate warmth in his gaze as he takes in your gift before glancing back at you. “Why would I laugh at something you gifted me?”

You shrug and he softly chuckles beside you. You feel his lips press firmly onto the side of your cheek and your skin burns at the act. 

“You worked hard to make me a gift even if you didn’t need to, which is more than I could ever ask for,” Childe whispers lovingly into your ear. With another fond kiss to your head, your lover pulls away from your shared embrace. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Childe’s voice is soft, a contrast from your usual confident lover. The strong, powerful honed soldier fit to serve the Tsaritsa and the Tsaritsa only was now hesitantly asking you to do something intimate. You exhale softly at how you’ve gotten this powerful weapon of war wrapped around your finger and you wonder just what it was about you that he loved so much.

You couldn’t even get a proper answer out; as soon as you nod your head a pair of lightly chapped lips press onto yours. The kiss was very gentle and sweet. So many words of love and affection were poured into that simple kiss, every tender movement causing your heart to soar  in your chest. His hand gently squeezes your hand, a small reminder that he was experiencing this intimate moment with you, and you sigh from his touch.

You love him so much.

As you pull away from him, your eyes immediately meet his gaze and it only sends your nerves into more of a frazzled mess. If you’ve never been swept away by a heavy tide and pulled underneath the unforgiving undertow to be engulfed in the ocean, you might as well have experienced that now with the way your boyfriend was staring at you. Love was evident in his gaze, but with the dark blue engulfing his irises you knew there was something more brewing. 

With a short glance to your lips, Childe leans forward again to press his lips on yours. However, this time his kiss conveyed a different emotion than the previous one. Compared to the innocence of the other one, this one screamed of desperation and need. As his lips move hungrily over yours, you groan and grip onto the kitchen counter as he pushes into you. However, your boyfriend pulls away when you suddenly wince from the tile digging into your back. 

You don’t get a chance to question his motives before strong arms lift you from the ground and onto the counter. The cool temperature of the kitchen tiles contrast to the heat of the moment and you shudder in excitement, which only causes Childe to smile at your reaction. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, slipping between your legs and once more leaning into your body. As if on instinct, your arms loosely wrap around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. You shrug and avert your eyes playfully to the side as he leans in to press a kiss at the juncture of your neck beneath your ear. 

“Nothing much, just how much I love you,” you respond with a small laugh. Childe hums beside you before pulling away to stare into your eyes again. There’s a playful sparkle in his eyes, but it’s dwarfed by the amount of the warmest, most serene ocean blue that lull you in a comfort that you can only find with the man in front of you. 

“I would argue that that’s a bigger deal than you’re making it out to be.” He chuckles, rough and calloused hands resting on your waist as he pulls you into him. His lips find yours again, the same desire to love you and show his affections for you clear as day the more he kisses you. With a gentle prod at your bottom lip, his tongue slips into your mouth and explores everything that he can touch. Your hand runs through his orange curls and lightly grip his hair, groaning as his tongue slips over your own.

This only excites Childe further; it’s not his fault that you’re so sweet to him and have the cutest reactions when he’s giving his love to you. He wants to show you what you mean to him after going out of your comfort zone just for his sake. 

Childe pulls away from the kiss, but his lips never stray from you. They trail kisses along your neck as his fingers undo the buttons of his maroon shirt draping over your body. A sigh escapes your lips and your own fingers play with the ginger curls at the base of his neck. His tongue gently laps at your skin as his lips gently caress the area after and-

“Childe!” you yelp as you as his teeth playfully nip your skin. His lips curl into a smile that you most definitely can feel as he gently kisses your neck as an apology.

“Sorry, dear,” Childe murmurs, but he certainly doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse. Calloused fingers slide the maroon shirt off of your shoulders and the cooler temperature of the kitchen surrounds your entire being. Blue eyes are taking in your appearance, and you know there’s something brewing in the deep blue abyss as his eyes slowly stare down your body. 

Soon after, you can feel his hands explore the expanse of your exposed torso, running over your skin and curvature of your body. It’s like he’s mapping out the way your body feels from the way he’s touching you; there’s no inch of skin left untouched. Childe’s lips find yours again as he kisses you ardor, pouring every bit of love he has for you in the movement of his lips.

“W-wait,” you stammer breathlessly, pulling away from your lover when you feel his rough fingers slip under your bra strap. He’s fiddling with the clasp as his eyes meet your gaze. You can tell he was close to just letting his desires take control of him from the way he’s looking at you.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Childe asks. He tilts his head forward to press a kiss along your jaw.

“Shouldn’t I be the one kissing you?” You ask him, gently pushing away so that your eyes can meet once more. You give him a small smile as your fingers gently tickle the back of his neck. “It’s not fair for you to be in charge on your birthday; why don’t you relax while I love you?”

Childe can feel his heart soaring from the mere suggestion. Of course, he would never turn down any request from you, especially if it was a request to have your lips all over his body and hopefully around his dick. But, as much as he loved the idea, he had other plans in mind that he needed to do to you. 

It’s not his fault that you made it so easy to love you.

With a shake of his head and a quick movement from his fingers, your bra is unclasped and slipped off of your shoulders. A gasp escapes your lips as your chest is bare in front of your lover, though you know he is very much enjoying the view in front of him. 

“Not tonight,” Childe responds with an amused smile. His lips trail down your skin, soft kisses leading to your chest as rough hands gently run over your breasts. “Let me enjoy you as my gift tonight, darling.”

He doesn’t even let you respond to him as his lips press a gentle kiss at your nipple. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub while his hand gropes at the breast left unattended. Your body shivers at his touch and you can’t help the blood rising to your face at his affections. Of course, you’re slightly embarrassed at having all of his attention on you on his special day even after making a mess of a cake for him. It should be you kissing him, trailing kisses down his body and worshiping him until all he could see were the galaxy of stars that shone the brightest the minute he was born. 

You breathe out his name in a soft whisper before Childe detaches himself from your chest. His thumbs brush over your nipples as his hands cup and squeeze your breasts. He smiles, licking his lips in a manner that sends a pleasant shudder down your spine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Childe murmurs before leaning forward once more to kiss you. You hum in his kiss, groaning softly as his tongue parts your lips once more as he takes in your taste again and again. His hands slide down your body and his fingers find their way to the button of your shorts. With deft fingers, your button is swiftly undone and you lift your hips to help slide them off. 

“You’re one to talk, ‘Jax,” you quip back at him when he finally pulls away from the kiss, but your slightly playful demeanor when you feel his fingers brush past your clothed core. Your breath hitches and you can feel the smile on his lips when he kisses at the juncture of your neck. His name leaves your mouth in a soft whisper and your fingers cling to his shoulders. 

“Hm, what was that?” Childe chuckles softly when your body twitches as his finger presses into your clothed clit. Your huff of air clearly entertaining your boyfriend as he gently massages your sensitive bud through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your body shudders again as you close your eyes to his touch, your fingers burying themselves into his orange sea of curls as you try to ground yourself. 

“Sh-shut up,” you stammer out with a gentle yank of his hair. He only laughs softly in response and gently kisses your neck. Your breathing gets heavier with each movement of his fingers as he gently teases and prods at your clit and you can feel the pleasure building up. Your hips squirm on the kitchen counter as you try to grind up into his fingers for a bit more pressure; you needed a bit more stimulation than he was currently giving you.

Childe hums beside your ear, gently nipping your earlobe as he feels you shift your hips underneath him. “Do you need some more excitement, dear?” he muses. His fingers, however, slowly stop their pleasurable massage on your clit and your eyes widen at the cease of movement. He pulls away from you, his deep blue eyes an abyss of desire as he stares into your eyes. There’s a playful smirk on his lips as he glances at your lips and then meets your gaze once more. “There’s no need to rush; we have all day to enjoy the moment, and I want to take my time enjoying my birthday gift.”

He presses a tantalizing kiss at the crook of your neck before trailing slow, agonizing kisses down your body. You want to tell him to hurry up, but your voice fails you. Can anyone blame you when your lover was purposefully teasing you in the best way possible?

Your breath hitches when his lips finally meet the band of your underwear and it suddenly dawns on you what he’s going to do. Instinctively, your knees attempt to close so he doesn’t get a view of you down there, but, much to your dismay, his hands firmly hold your legs open.

“Childe,” you begin, but your words get caught in your throat when his eager fingers slip underneath the band of your panties and slide them down your legs. You don’t even get a chance to protest before you feel his lips kissing lower and lower until-

Your hips twitch and you let out a sweet noise when Childe kisses your clit. Your hand automatically comes up to cover your mouth knowing what he was about to do. With your fingers clinging to the kitchen counter and your mouth muffled, you moan softly as his tongue laps at your sensitive bud. The wet muscle swirls around the nub, lips kissing and sucking on it as you try your best to hang onto whatever amount of sanity you had left. The pleasure was building in your stomach and throughout your nerves as it washes over your body in gentle waves. 

A breathy cry leaves your lips when you feel him move even lower; his tongue licks a stripe up your folds and you can feel his mouth vibrate at your core as he savors your taste. You can only say his name once before his tongue delves into your pussy. Immediately, your hands fly to his head, fingers burying themselves into his ginger curls and your thighs squish around his head. 

You can feel him chuckle against you and then rough, calloused fingers firmly grip your thighs and pry your legs apart. The wet, soppy sound of his mouth suctioned to your cunt as his tongue thrusts into you is all you can hear while he eats you out. There’s the occasional groan from your boyfriend as your hand pushes his face deeper into your hips or when your hips grind up to meet his tongue, but regardless of what you hear your head is spinning as his stimulation overwhelms you.

Childe pulls away from your pussy only to press a kiss onto your clit again, one of his hands lets go of your plush thighs as he slips a finger into you. You’re panting heavily at this point and your grip on his hair tightens. The burning white pleasure is building even more as his finger thrusts inside your cunt; he’s building a steady rhythm with his meanwhile sucking and kissing your sensitive bud and your head is spinning. You are not going to last any longer if he keeps this up. 

Another finger slips in and you throw your head back. It’s hard to keep your mind from going insane with the way he brushes against that sweet spot. You can’t see him, but you can feel him smiling from underneath you and his fingers brush that spot again and again, massaging it until the heat in your body nearly explodes.

He’s so mean, but you can’t bring it in you to tell him to stop. Not when it feels so excruciatingly  good.

“Ch-Childe,” you stammer out in between moans, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Your boyfriend’s thumb gently rubs your thigh while the fingers that were pressing into your sweet spot over and over increase in intensity. The sloppy sound of his mouth sucking on your clit and the gentle rake of his teeth over the sensitive skin is enough to send you over the edge. The pleasure is building up so fast and your fingers bury deep into his hair as you practically shove him into your pussy. 

Were you suffocating him? Could he even breathe?

You didn’t care. All that was on your mind was the overwhelming white pleasure that burns through your body, crashing over your entire being as your hips ride into his face. His free hand grips your thighs as your legs tighten around his neck to pull him closer to your body while his fingers buried deep inside your walls help you ride out your orgasm. 

His name is the only word that spills out of your lips in a slurred and breathy mantra as the waves of your orgasm wash over your nerves.

As you cool down from the high of your climax, Childe gently slips his fingers out of your sensitive pussy. His hands pry open your shaking legs and you can see the twinkle of his eyes as he watches you, completely breathless, on the kitchen counter. 

You nearly cum again when your boyfriend locks eyes with you and licks his fingers clean. 

“You taste so sweet, love,” Childe coos, turning his head and pressing his lips against your inner thigh. He showers small kisses against your skin gently and your body shivers underneath his touch. “If I could, I would spend all day just eating you out until all I can taste is your pussy on my tongue for the rest of my life.”

You can feel your ears burning at his dirty words, but you can’t deny that it made your stomach somersault at the mere thought. 

“But, there are other, more urgent matters that I want to deal with. So, we’ll save that idea for next time, okay?” Childe whispers playfully. He presses a final kiss on your thigh before standing up once more. He leans into you; his hands firmly grab at your waist as he pulls you into his body. Your lover’s lips find yours in a kiss as his lips move against yours in fervor. 

The taste of your cum on his lips melts into your own mouth as his tongue slips into yours, and you groan as Childe presses more into you. His kisses are hungry and rough, almost as if his lust and desire to have you was taking full control of his body at this point. Your fingers cling onto his shoulders as you hold him close to you, savoring the heat of the moment and the passion shared between you two.

Childe whispers your name as he pulls away only for his lips to go straight for your neck. He’s kissing the skin of your neck, lips suctioning to areas of your skin as his tongue scrapes over the area trapped in his mouth. You sigh breathily, feeling his mouth caress and suck at your skin. You only wince when his teeth graze your skin and bite you once more. 

But you don’t stop him as he leaves love bites onto the expanse of your skin.

Lost in your own bliss and the kisses pressed into your skin, you don’t realize what Childe’s doing until you feel something hard press against your pussy. Your eyes slowly open as your turn your head to face your lover; a head of ginger curls is all you see as he’s too busy kissing your neck and fisting his dick as he prepares himself to fuck you.

Your stomach flutters in excitement and your hand slowly reaches down to touch his cock. When your fingers brush against his, you can feel your smile growing seeing his body flinch at your touch. 

“Babe?” Childe asks. He pulls away from the crook of your neck and you can feel your pussy moisten from the sight of him. 

He’s an absolute, horny wreck. His blue eyes are dark, darker than you’ve ever seen them and you fear he may have jumped too deep into the pits of the ocean from the way he’s looking at you. There’s a glaze over his eyes and his cheeks are flushed from not only eating you out earlier, but from pumping his dick in his hand and the excitement of having your cunt around him. 

Your heart swells in pride knowing that he’s like this because of you. 

“Let me do it for you,” you tell him softly, gently removing his hand from his cock as your fingers wrap around it in his stead. “It’s your birthday, at least let me treat you with this.”

Childe lets out a strained groan at your touch, but he doesn’t stop you. Instead, he buries his face back into the crook of your neck along with a few kisses sprinkled onto your skin. 

Immediately, you get to work. Your thumb swipes at the head of his dick and he shivers from the touch; you can feel your smile growing from his reactions to your touch. Your thumb gently massages the tip of his cock, gently coaxing as much precum as you could over the head before your hand begins to slowly pump his dick. It’s a slow and steady rhythm at first and Childe moans softly into your neck. His hips meet your hand in its pace and you can feel him get harder with each stroke. 

Childe whispers out your name in a soft moan when you playfully let your finger trail along the shaft of his cock before your hand grasps him once more to line him up at the entrance of your pussy. Your body shudders feeling the tip slip through your folds, the mixture of his precum and your wet pussy making the sensation all the more pleasurable.

“Are you ready?” you whisper to your boyfriend. Your free hand gently runs through Childe’s hair as he pulls away from your neck. His eyes meet yours and your pussy throbs at the pure lust and love in his eyes. A rough hand reaches up to grab yours, bringing it to his lips as he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m always ready for you, my beloved.”

Childe kisses you again, muffling both of your moans as he presses his hips into yours. His dick slides into your pussy; it brushes up against your walls in the best way possible, each inch digging into you sends waves of pleasure through your body. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his hips as you help push him deeper into your cunt. Your boyfriend laughs softly at your eagerness, pulling away from your lips with an amused smile. 

“Already?”

You roll your eyes and yank your hand away from his, but he quickly catches it once more. He intertwines your fingers with a gentle squeeze and a twinkle in his ocean eyes.

“Just shut up and fuck me, ‘Jax.”

Your lover does not need to be told what to do twice. With a quiet ‘yes, ma’am,’ Childe’s hips begin a slow and steady rhythm as he grinds into you. As the pleasant sensation of his dick rubbing inside your pussy, you sigh and let your eyes flutter shut; each movement is absolute bliss for you and you don’t doubt that Childe feels the same way from the way he’s groaning and panting in your ear. 

Whispers of praise and love are whispered into your ear the more the pressure builds up between the both of you. There’s no rush, no race for the end of the finish line as the both of you revel in the ecstasy shared as your hips meet again and again. Childe gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards him and his lips hungrily capture your own once more in a heated kiss. Your moans are swallowed by him as he pushes you onto the kitchen counter.

The cool tile presses against your back and you shiver, though it doesn’t distract you much considering the gradual increasing intensity of Childe’s hips thrusting into your own. His fingers, still intertwined with yours, squeeze your hand against the kitchen tile as he pulls away from your mouth. His eyes are beautiful as he stares down at you, gaze in a lust-filled haze and lips parted as the most beautiful, sweet moans leave his lips. 

“You feel so good; your pussy was made for me,” Childe groans out. He leans forward once more but buries his face back into the crook of your neck. It’s hard to focus on anything when his hips are slapping against your own, the noises getting louder and wetter the more he pulls his dick out only to slam back into your pussy, and his whines right beside your ear as the pleasure spreads throughout your body. 

His free hand roughly grabs a hold of your thigh, pulling your body closer to the edge of the counter before pushing your leg up. It’s a bit of a stretch for you, but god does the angle that he’s hitting you from feel so good. A strangled moan leaves your lips as Childe roughly fucks you, sparks of pleasure rapidly building up in your stomach the more he hits that special, sweet spot that makes you see stars.

“Childe, I-I’m…!” you cry out, fingers grasping the back of his head. You feel him kiss the base of your neck.

“Go on, I’m close too. Don’t hold back now.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum, your second orgasm crashes over you in a huge wave; pleasure engulfs your entire being as your body spasms. Your leg tightly curls around his hip, your head thrown back and back arching. You can hear Childe grunt from beside you as your pussy clenches around his dick as he helps you ride out your orgasm with gentle praise.

You feel his teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder as his hips messily thrust into your own before you feel his movements still and his pelvis buried deep into your own followed by a muffled moan. Both of your chests are heaving and the sound of heavy breathing echoes throughout the kitchen while you both desperately try to catch your breath. 

After a few quiet moments, Childe pulls away from your neck and gently tilts your head towards him to take a look at you. You’re sure you’re a mess, but you don’t care as you admire your boyfriend as he hovers above you. His hair is a mess, worse than usual from your fingers constantly burying themselves into his ginger sea of curls, and his cute cheeks are flushed from the throes of passion shared just moments prior. His lips are parted as he pants, the corners lifted slightly upwards as his ocean eyes take in your own messy, fucked out expression.

Childe kisses you, peppering soft kisses on your lips and gently around your face. 

“I love you. I love you so, so much,” he murmurs quietly against your skin and you don’t ever doubt what he truly means. His lips press into yours again, causing your heart to flutter in your chest at the simple, yet sweet act of affection. 

Your heart doesn’t stop swelling with the love you held specifically for Childe even as he pulls out of you and helps clean up the mess you made, not even when he playfully asks for another round as you head to the shower to wash up after already going at it just moments before.

The ceremony hall is filled with hushed whispers and quiet chatter as your small legs walk down the aisle. Your shoes pad softly against the pristine, white rug that runs through the center and leads you to the altar where the priest and your future fiancé await you. The room and people within are so huge compared to your little body; the large space sends a wave of unease down your body and yet you trudge on until you're face to face with the boy you're to be engaged to.

Mydeimos is not much older than you: he's around your height, prepubescent with the baby fat still clinging to his round cheeks, strawberry blond hair pulled back into a ponytail with a plait into the side of his head, and a clean, white suit adorning his little body. With the way he's dressed so proper, you're shocked that his eyes, molten gold as if the sun had given up its light to his irises, pierce through you in a stare that seems too mature, too weathered, from an 11 year old boy.

Intimidation seeps into your bones, sending a wave of cold dread through every nerve in your body as reality hits you—you are a stranger in territory that is foreign to you. There is no family for you to run back to, no familiar aides or maids to find comfort in. No friendly smiles or voices calling for you, beckoning you back to safety.

You are alone in the kingdom of Castrum Kremnos.

The advisors of your home have warned you about this before; that this engagement is necessary for the kingdom and it is your civil duty as the daughter of one of the most prestigious families to continue the royal bloodline and familial relations between your family and the royal family of Castrum Kremnos. You don't have to get along with your fiancé, you just have to tolerate him for the rest of your life and hope that he is indifferent to you at worst.

You know that this union between you and the young boy with unmoving eyes is strictly for business, that you two are supposed to start off as strangers and end your lives as acquaintances if all things go accordingly.

And yet, anxiety solidifies your blood into lead as you stare into the stoic face of your soon-to-be fiancé.

"I promise to remain by your side until the day that we wed and forevermore," Mydeimos says, his voice curt and stoic, reciting the promises that were tradition for engagements in the kingdom of Castrum Kremnos. His eyes never leave yours—you don't know if it's a good or bad thing.

"I also promise to be by your side, to always take your side no matter the consequences or conditions, as your lawful fiancée," You recite yours after his.

And with rehearsed movements, you slip on the golden bands over each other's ring fingers.

"Until death do us part," the both of you iterate as the ceremony comes to a close and the priest before you signals the end of your vows. The voices and chatter begin to pick up in volume now as hushed voices grow louder and the praises for the future of Castrum Kremnos echo through the giant ceremony hall and successfully deafen the impending cynical whispers that have already begun to swirl around you.

The remainder of your engagement banquet is a blur that you don't remember. There were too many faces to greet and too many voices that rung in your ears that slowly they all merged into each other. You didn't bother to differentiate them at one point of the night as you quickly realized they all said the same thing: wishful thoughts for the longevity of Castrum Kremnos and nothing but the best for you and your fiancé.

Thankfully, your speaking was to a minimum as Mydeimos thanked everyone with that terse tone of his before guiding the both of you away from others.

The maid attending you slips off your engagement gown with ease; the white silks are quickly gathered up as a soft nightgown is fitted over your small frame before you dismiss her for the night. As she bows and takes her exit, you can hear the heavy door of your chamber close with a quiet thud.

And you find yourself alone again.

Your bedroom is large, much too big for a small child like you to have to yourself. And yet, even with the expensive furniture and decorations that settle in the room to welcome you in for the first night, the reality of finally being alone in a foreign city settles heavily on your tiny, young shoulders.

Your feet pad softly against the tiled floor and you peer out the large curtained window; the beautiful scenery of the castle gardens greets you. Lush shrubbery line the outskirts of the garden with flowers blooming at every inch. Their petals are colorful and bright against the various shades of green foliage, bringing a splash of life to the quiet gardens. There's a trail leading within the gardens that leads to a marbled gazebo hidden between the bushes yet sits clearly in view from your window.

It's beautiful, you cannot deny that.

But this is a place you do not know and that terrifies you. Something sharp strikes through your chest as your eyes begin to burn with tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. The voices of your advisors echo in your mind reminding you of the duty to your people and that this decision was for the greater good.

You don't know how much time had passed until you feel a hand on your shoulder. The sudden touch shocks you with such an intensity that a shrill yelp leaves your lips and you jump a near meter high; your heart races rapidly against your chest as you turn to look at the culprit.

Those piercing golden eyes peer back at you, wide with just as much surprise from your sudden reaction. Mydeimos is dressed down from the prior event, his nightshirt a tad bit too big for his young frame and makes him look smaller than before. His blond hair has been undone now, falling over his shoulders in a sea of messy gold save for the plait that falls at the side of his head. It's neat, much neater than the rest of his appearance.

"Um…" He begins. There's something different in the way that he's speaking to you now; his tone is much quieter, much softer as if anything terse would scare you away. It could be because you're both alone in this large space together, or because of the state he had found you in. Either way, the change is something that comforts you.

"You didn't hear me the first time I check in on you," Mydeimos speaks, his eyes glancing down for a briefly before meeting your gaze again. "Mama always had the maids make pomegranate juice when I was sad."

It's only then do you notice he's holding something in his hands: a small cup filled most of the way with a milky, maroon hue. He places it on the table beside you before reaching up to wipe away your tears with the sleeve of his big shirt—his movements are uncoordinated and a bit awkward, fitting for a boy his age.

"I apologize if I made you cry. Mama said I'm not the best when it comes to other people," Mydeimos confesses, pulling his hand away from your face. "She says I'm too 'rough around the edges', though I'm not quite sure what that means."

"…No it's okay. I appreciate the effort." Your own voice is quiet, a little hoarse from crying mere moments before, but audible enough for your fiancé to hear. "Thank you."

He doesn't leave your side, rather chooses to silently sit with you while you drink the cup filled with pomegranate juice. The tartness of the fresh pomegranate juice leaves a sour taste in your mouth but the addition of milk lessens the bite with a creamier texture, and you find your heart slowly being mended by the bizarre mixture of flavors.

"Milk?" You ask, setting the porcelain cup gently down on the table. "I've never had juice with milk before."

"It tastes good together," Mydeimos responds almost immediately. There's a small twinkle in his eyes, perhaps illuminated from the small lamp lit in your bedchambers or because of the excitement of sharing something special with you. "It's my favorite drink; Mama used to always make it for me until she…"

Your fiancé trails off for a brief moment and you catch in real time the twinkle in his eye fading as he casts his gaze elsewhere. In the dimly lit room, Mydeimos looks way smaller than he did in the hall earlier that evening. His larger nightshirt drapes over his small frame and emphasizes just how tiny he is. Underneath the gentle glow of the moon, his young features are highlighted: big, eyes that shine golden in the light, chubby cheeks that seem to get rounder when he angles his face downward, and thin, lanky limbs that seem uncoordinated with the rest of his body. There's a splash of faint blue dyed on his skin, but the large sleeves of his nightshirt cover it when he shifts.

Mydeimos, no matter how intimidating he may seem to you, is just a small child. Just like you. You wonder why fate has been so cruel to make the both of you pawns to the elders in this way.

Your finger twitches, an innate urge to ask the young boy what was wrong begins to bubble in your chest. But what do you know; you're a stranger that was barely welcomed into this new country. Why would he share private matters with you on your first night in his palace?

"Mama said that you would be lonely here," Mydeimos begins again, breaking the heavy silence and changing the topic with a few simple words. His little fingers twiddle in his lap and his eyes remain cast downward. Hesitation eats away at his posture, that you can tell clear as day, but when his golden eyes lock eyes with yours, his gaze never wavers.

Sincerity in the form of aureate pools.

"I meant what I said in the ceremony earlier. I'll take your side, always." The strawberry blond boy raises his hand up, sticking his small pinky up; an oath. "So, don't cry. You won't be alone here, I promise."

You link your pinky with his—his skin is rougher and more calloused than a young boy his age should ever have—but his words, his vow dedicated to you, plants the seed of hope in your small chest.

—

It doesn't take long for the norms of Castrum Kremnos to be ingrained in your head. The customs here are much different than your own; for one, society here focuses more on skills related to combat regardless of if it's fighting experience or a strategist. There wasn't a week that went by where you didn't hear whispers of some underground ring where citizens, nobles and commoners alike, would test their limits with on another with only one victor who won nothing but some gold coins and honor for the week.

Even the young aren't exempt from this, you know this well enough by now. Not because you became subject to the societal norms of a foreign land, but because your fiancé is the face of the nation.

The moon has long risen high above the sky, surrounded by the stars that gleam and glimmer around it. The empty heavens above are filled with the light shared between the cosmos, illuminating the earth underneath in its silvery, cool light. The evening breeze is brisk and bites against your cheek as you stand in the windowsill of your bedchambers.

Alone.

Your fiancé would have arrived long before the sun had completely set; every evening since you got here was spent with him because he promised that you wouldn't be alone so long as you stayed in Castrum Kremnos. And, now knowing him better than you had before, you realize that Mydeimos is a man—boy—of his word.

The gentle chirp of crickets in the gardens below and the occasional 'hoot' of an owl nearby are the only things you hear aside from the quiet clicks of the ornate clock on the wall of your chamber. One chirp, two… Where could Mydeimos could have gone?

Quietly, your small feet pad gently against the tiled floor of your bedchambers until you're met with the large, gilded door leading to the grand hallway outside. It would be quicker to call for a maid to check on your missing fiancé, but there's always a chance that they wouldn't even listen to you; they could easily lie to you and say Mydeimos was simply asleep in his room and usher you back to your bedroom.

You had to see for your own eyes.

With a quick tug of the large door, you're out and into the empty hallway before you know it. It doesn't take long to find Mydeimos' door. Despite the daunting size of the large halls, you find his door with ease; his chambers are not far from yours and, with the lack of any aids roaming the halls, you're able to slip easily into your fiancé's bedroom without so much as a creak from the door.

And you're met with the sight of something so heart wrenching for a young child to ever witness.

Drips of blood taint the tiled floors of Mydeimos' bedchambers, leaving a trail of ruby droplets from the door to the bedside. There, laying haphazardly on the bed with barely enough of his small body on the mattress, lay your fiancé with scratches and scrapes littering his poor body from what you can see. His blond hair is a mess over his head; the tousled strands cover his face and are matted in some places from dirt and sweat. He's breathing heavily with his eyes closed, as if it were hard to get any sort of breath into his small frame.

One step.

Two.

Your body moves on its own before you could will it, the only thought in your mind being to get to his side.

"Crown Prince." Your voice is barely a whisper, fear bubbling at the edge of your throat as if anything louder would break your fiancé into a million pieces. "What happened to you?"

He doesn't respond.

Your hand, small and unblemished, gently brush aside his hair from his face. Dirt and blood cake his skin and the source of the blood on the floor comes from his nose. With caution, you slowly turn Mydeimos to the side as to prevent the blood from going back up.

Your small heart hammers against your chest as you frantically glance around the room for anything to help the small boy curled up at the side of his bed. In the state of your panic, your legs lead you to the washroom where you grab a spare towel stored in the cupboard and quickly dampen it before returning.

With the limited supplies that you had, you manage to clean up the wounds that litter Mydeimos' skin. Luckily, no wound was deep enough to cause any worry and were majority scrapes, minus the nosebleed that scared you half to death. As your eyes scan over your fiancé's small frame, you prepare to leave his side for a brief moment; though you trust your judgement for his wounds, there's no harm in a second opinion from someone who knows the human body better than you do.

However, as your body begins to slip off the side of the large mattress, a hand clings to the end of your nightgown.

"Don't leave me," Mydeimos whispers out quietly. "Please."

And so you do, remaining by his side while his hand gently grasps the edge of your nightgown. It's quiet; not a word or sound is heard from either body in the room.

"Could I ask what happened?" You break the silence, turning to look over at the boy who lay beside you. When he doesn't respond, you continue to speak. "If you want to tell me, that is. I will not pressure you."

Mydeimos averts his gaze from yours; this is the first time since you've come here that he has willingly shied away from your eyes. There's a hint of pink that threatens to burn at the tip of his ears and a gloss that shines over his golden eyes. "My father said there's no such thing as empathy in the ancient Kremnoan language. I'm a failure to him for fearing death, and I will gain nothing by having kindness in my heart.

"I'm not fit to be Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos."

His words shatter your own heart, not because they hurt you but because who could say that to anyone, let alone your own son. You can hear the tears fall from his face before you could see them; the break in his small voice was enough to tell you everything.

"…There might not be any words in ancient Kremnoan to describe empathy," You begin. Your hand slowly reaches over to hold onto Mydeimos' in an attempt to comfort whatever you could. A wave of relief washes over you when he takes it into his own—the rough callouses on his palm tell a story you could never imagine living through. "But there are in mine.

"We're fiancés, aren't we? What's mine is yours, and if the Kremnoan language cannot offer you the comfort you seek, then please find it in mine. We made a promise to be by each other's side, did we not?"

Aureate seas finally meet your gaze and for the first time you're really hit with the reality that Mydeimos is only a few years older than you. He is a child grieving that he will never live up to his father's expectations no matter how hard he tries and a child forced to endure severe punishment for simply living.

You made a promise to yourself that night as Mydeimos cried holding your hand in the large expanse of his mattress—to return the oath he made to you until the day the two of you willingly part ways. He will not suffer alone so long as you remain by his side.

NOONTIDE.

The flowers have bloomed, opening up their beautiful and bright petals and stretch towards the sun to let its golden rays warm up their stems and bring them life. The birds have woken from their slumber by now and sing merry songs that fill the brisk morning air as if they, too, were celebrating this day.

Spring welcomes the birth of Mydeimos with flora and fauna alike.

To honor his 18th birthday as the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos, King Eurypon has thrown a coming-of-age ceremony. In the name of the royal family, King Eurypon had ordered it to be the grandest of this century for the Sun had blessed the day Mydeimos was born. Thus, the palace has been in a state of hectic panic; maids bustle back and forth as they clean and polish every nook and cranny while butlers and aids double check the inventory for decorations and place them where they deemed fit.

You barely have time to even see your fiancé in passing; whatever little time you had already with him has dwindled down to quick greetings in the halls before Mydeimos is called elsewhere for lessons on etiquette or meetings about the kingdom's politics or perhaps another training session for the young prince.

Luckily, your evening meetings in each other's bedchambers remain untouched. No matter how high the moon hung in the sky, as soon as Mydeimos finishes his laboring schedule, he would always find his way to your chambers with two glasses of milky pomegranate juice to share as the two of you wind down for the evening, divulging in one another of the day's drama or news.

The night of Mydeimos' birthday banquet is barely beginning and yet the palace has never been in such a frenzied state; every body residing in the main palace scurries to get all the finer details set in place while the ones in your annex rush to get every clothing and accessory pinned to your body before it is too late for the guests expecting you.

Eleni, one of your handmaidens, cinches the the back of your dress, pulling the ribbons that cross your lower back taut to accentuate your waist. Her hands, worn with use despite her young age, are deft and skillful as they dance across the silks that drape over your body.

"My apologies, My Lady," she says in a soft voice when she tightens part of the dress a little too tight.

Angeliki, another of your handmaidens, brushes soft creams against your skin to accentuate the beautiful features already gracing your face and to ensure that you will be the most beautiful flower blooming beside your fiancé tonight. Her own weathered hands treat you with such tenderness, as if you would wilt if she pressed the bristles of the brush too hard into your skin.

"You'll look most precious tonight, My Lady," Angeliki coos as she coats your lips in a beautiful hue of pink. "The Crown Prince will awe at your radiance tonight."

"Do you think?" you ask curiously, peering down towards the shiny silks being tended to by Eleni. "I think I'll be quite plain next to my prince. Nothing catches his gaze besides a sharp sword to play with during training."

"Nonsense, my lady!" Eleni pipes in, standing up almost immediately. Her emerald eyes gleam with determination and you're taken aback by the fire blazing in her soul. "Have you not seen the way the Crown Prince gazes at you?"

"Like I'm a nuisance?" You jest, but that only fires Eleni up even more.

"Don't say that, My Lady! I see the way the Crown Prince looks at you; it's nothing but-"

"Eleni," Angeliki interjects sternly. She shoots the younger handmaiden a sharp look , a warning, and Eleni closes her mouth.

"My apologies for yelling, My Lady. But I will stand by what I said. You're most magnificent tonight."

When you finally look in the mirror, you can hardly recognize yourself. Staring back at you is a completely different woman. Your hair is tucked neatly into a loose bun with strands cascading down the side of your face to frame it delicately. A branch of golden laurel sits behind your head, emerging from your bun like a ray of golden sun peaking through the horizon.

Red silks drape over your body in an elegant dress; the sleeves begin off of your shoulders and cascade down your elbow in a beautiful sea of crimson satin and the skirt falls from you waist like a deep ruby waterfall. There are gold accents lining the edges of the refined fabric as if painted with the brush of a skilled calligrapher.

In short, you look fitting to be Mydeimos' betrothed, the fiancée of the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos. For tonight, at least.

As Eleni and Angeliki finish the final touches on your outfit for the evening, there's a firm knock at your door and a voice that you're way too familiar with announces his arrival. With hurried steps, Angeliki rushes to open the door, and you're met with your fiancé face to face.

He's much taller than he was when he was a child; his height now towers over you and his body has grown much broader as he continues to hone his skills as a Kremnoan warrior. His usual messy blond hair is tied back neatly, the hair that usually frames his face is plaited back and pinned by a golden laurel that resembles your own and leaves his handsome features open for everyone to see.

Crimson fabric adorns his body, matching your shade in every which way; it wouldn't be hard to connect two and two together when you walk in with clothes that complement one another. Despite the grace of the exquisite cloth over his skin, it serves as a nice contrast to the defined muscles, pure proof of his discipline as the Kremnoan prince, hidden underneath.

And eyes of amber that you could recognize anywhere in a sea of unfamiliar faces settle on you and only you.

"Excuse my intrusion, My Betrothed," Mydeimos speaks, the timbre of his voice already brings you comfort to the nerves beginning to spike as the birthday banquet grows nearer. "But it's time for us to part."

He holds out his hand for you to take it.

And you do.

As Mydeimos guides you through your annex and into the main palace, your hand clings gently to his strong arm as your heels clack against the cobblestone beneath your feet. His bicep is firm underneath your grip, and your mind wanders elsewhere; how did he get so big before your own eyes? He couldn't have grown in his sleep had he?

A hand, large and rough from years of swordsmanship and combat training, settles over your forearm, grabbing your attention.

"What's on your mind?" Mydeimos asks, his voice carrying the soft tone that's always present when speaking to you.

"Nothing much," you muse with a soft smile. "It's just hard to believe you're already coming of age, Your Highness."

"How so?" You don't have to look, but you know his gaze is on you. You can feel the tender smile that gradually grows on his lips, only widening when hesitance dances on your tongue.

"It seems like yesterday you were the size of a measly shrimp. Tell me, how'd you get so big?" You gently squeeze his arm to emphasize your point. "Though, in my eyes you're still that scrawny little boy who comes into my room with new scrapes for me to tend to."

Mydeimos chuckles softly beside you, bumping into you in response to your teasing words. "Funny. I don't recall you ever changing. You still look at me as if you're about to cry like when we were younger."

You roll your eyes with a scoff. "Please. At least I'm pretty now, aren't I?" You bat your eyelashes at the end of your sentence to emphasize your statement. His expression doesn't move, and instead you're met with the soft exhale of his breath and a hand that gently fixes the stray hair that flies from your head.

"You always have been."

Expecting him to continue your lighthearted banter, his quick and earnest reply shocks you. Yet, all you see is the gentle, sincere sea of gold peering back as if urging you to wade deeper into them. Heat rises to your face but before you could say anything in return, the doors leading into the banquet hall open and you're thrust into the clamor of the party.

It doesn't take long for you to be separated from Mydeimos the moment you stepped into the banquet hall. With many nobles desperate to get a good word in from your fiancé, they clamber over him and when push comes to shove you're pulled away from your one anchor of safety.

The hall is beautiful and pristine; the maids and butlers did a wonderful job ensuring that its beauty truly shone through. The grand chandelier hangs gracefully above the center of the hall with its crystal like charms stretching across the ceiling like the web of a spider. The thousands, if not millions, of candles cast a warm, sparkling light below where other nobles chatted among themselves or dance in the arms of another.

As butlers and maids scamper quietly here and there to refill any snacks or drinks where the refreshments were, a small chamber orchestra made of primarily strings fill the hall with their sonorous harmonies. There's chatter among the guests; most are lighthearted and others drunk off of their minds, laughing boisterously at the unfunny jokes the older nobles tell.

And there are some that whisper behind your back. As expected of someone of your current standing, your position is only temporary and not quite protected by law. Fueled by spite and jealousy of being betrothed to the one and only Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos, of course poisonous words would drift through the crowd and into your line of hearing.

"How did she remain as the Crown Prince's betrothed?"

"Isn't she the daughter of an unnamed noble family? How embarrassing."

"I would do better as the Crown Princess, wouldn't you think?"

"What a hideous Princess we have."

Princess. The name settles into your skin like toxins flowing into your body, making you shudder. It's all bark and no bite; at the end of the day you remain the fiancée of Mydeimos and they are not. But their words hurt no less.

Your palms begin to clam up from the unwanted attention and you squeeze your fingers on the skirt of your dress in hopes of appearing calm and poised. You will not stoop to their level, not yet.

The melody sung by the violins begins to soar, reaching the highest crescendo as it signifies the climax of this waltz and the curious eyes belonging to a stranger that happen to catch yours from across the hall. There's a glimmer in his gaze that unnerves you; a chill shoots down your body and the hair at the back of your neck prickles almost immediately. You quickly avert your attention away from the unfamiliar man in hopes of losing his interest.

Yet, fate laughs hysterically in your face as he strides over with confidence overflowing in every step and your heart drops.

"My Lady," he greets you, bowing with a gloved hand on his chest. As he lifts his head, there's mischief dancing in his eyes. It does nothing to stop the pit from growing in your stomach. He tells you his name, but behind the string orchestra and your nerves frayed beyond compare, it flies over your head. "It's a pleasure meeting you." He reeks of alcohol.

"As is mine," you reply tersely. Apprehension seeps through your bones as the unfamiliar man offers his hand to you. Not causing a scene is your biggest priority here, but to have your first dance with a man that isn't your betrothed and to ignore every fiber of your body yelling at you to get away from him was another story.

But before he could even muster his dreadful question, a hand you're way too familiar with wraps around your own. He tugs you behind him and all you can see now is the broad expanse of your fiancé's back as he stands between you and the stranger from before.

And you find yourself relieved.

At the sight of your betrothed, the strange man steps back, stammering a half-hearted apology before scampering away to the other side of the hall where he would be farthest away from the two of you. When the coast was clear, you could see Mydei's posture relax for only a mere moment before he turns back around.

The first thing you see are his golden eyes sweeping over your body as if surveying for anything the unknown man could have inflicted on you in his absence. When he finds you unscathed, he finally meets your gaze again. Contrition swims in the endless seas of gold and sends a wave of warmth cascading over your skin. To know that he cares this much is a surprising feeling.

But it isn't unwelcome.

"Forgive me, My Betrothed," Mydeimos begins, stretching out his hand to you in a pose you're all too familiar with. "Can I redeem myself for being late with a dance?"

Your fiancé leads you through the exuberant, upbeat tempo of the polka played by the string orchestra. His hand is bare against your own and every callous is felt underneath your skin. It's rough, evidence of every single weapon he has learned under the direction of his father, but they are nothing but gentle and careful when pressed against your palm.

Both of your feet move quickly to the cut time of the music; left foot forward, then right follows, stepping back with your left, and then repeat.

"Shouldn't you focus more on your dance partner?" Mydeimos murmurs in front of you as the polka comes to its final cadence, and it was only then do you realize that your eyes were locked on your feet rather than the man dancing with you.

"Oh, I apologize. I was so focused on not making a fool of myself that I may have neglected you," You say quickly, bowing your head. Your betrothed hums in response, taking your hand in his when the chamber orchestra begins their next song; a slower waltz.

As your fiancé guides you through the andante of the next dance, your eyes meet his and it's hard to ignore the glimmer in his own. Was it from the lustrous chandelier twinkling above you or from something you don't want to recognize, you don't know and you don't plan to.

"Are you alright?" Mydeimos inquires, his gaze never leaving yours as the two of you sway gently to the soft lilts of the waltz. The music swells up and Mydeimos swings you away from him, only to pull you back when the strings settle back at the downbeat. There's a gentle squeeze to your palm and your heart lurches at the feeling.

"Nothing, just," You take a breath before responding, "Just a bit overwhelmed."

Your fiancé doesn't say anything, only opting to watch over you as if reading through the thoughts in your mind. A couple beats of rests, and like an anacrusis pivoting into the final phrase, he asks you one simple question.

"Why don't we leave after this dance?"

—

The night air is cool and it nips at your skin as you rush down the winding halls of the main palace. It's a bit dark, only a few candles here and there illuminate the never ending halls with barely enough light to see where your feet are stepping. The ethereal glow of the moon shines through the sheer curtained windows of the halls as if guiding you to your destination.

There's nothing but the quiet steps of your feet against the rug lining down the hall; the chatter of the party a mere memory now with the distance created. And yet, even as the chill of the night brushes against your cheeks, you're nothing but warm from both the exhilaration of escaping the stuffy banquet hall and from the hand holding yours through it all.

Your uneven breaths seem to catch the Crown Prince's attention, only then does he begin to slow down for your sake. Your fiancé's pace matches yours with ease and as you loosen your grip from his hand, the fear of being left behind in the dust now dissipating, his grip doesn't.

And it never does until he finally leads you to a small room on the higher levels of the main palace. It's especially quiet now with only your breaths filling the emptiness of the hall. The door is a bit older than the rest of the main palace, perhaps a forgotten storage space because of how isolated it was from the main bustle of the building. The wood has seen better days and it creaks to life once your fiancé opens it with ease.

Mydeimos helps you into the room, warning you of the step to get in. The room is dark and a bit cramped; piles of old books clutter the floors of the old room alongside two aged, leather chairs in the middle beside a low coffee table. There's a laced doily decorating the table and a vase with a small bouquet of white flowers resting within. Despite the timeworn appearance of the finer details, the room seems well taken care of.

Approaching the white blooms, your fingers gently graze the petals that fade to a soft pink hue.

"Cretan tulips," Mydeimos breaks the silence as he steps beside you. "My mother's birthday gift for me."

"How is she faring?" You inquire, pulling your fingers away. "Last I heard, she was bedridden and couldn't make it to your banquet."

There's hesitance in your betrothed's movements. He doesn't say anything at first, lips parting as his eyes glance downward deep in thought. His eyes trail to one of the aged chairs in the room; the leather is worn with use, but even you could tell the memories it holds in every crease.

"She's not well, truthfully," Mydeimos begins. His voice is small, an unfamiliar timbre. "I worry she won't make it to the next spring."

The news is heavy as it settles over your shoulders. Your hand reaches over to hold Mydeimos' once more; you squeeze his gently in comfort. There's something somber swimming in his eyes, one that you know you will never be able to chase away no matter how much you try.

Alone and scared, like he was all those years ago trembling in his room.

"I still mean what I said when we were younger," you tell him in the quiet of the night. Your voice, small yet deafening at the same time. "I'll be by your side until forever. Your worries will be mine to share as to alleviate the weight on your shoulders."

Mydeimos doesn't say anything and instead offers you a smile; it's not one that reaches his eyes, but it's enough to show the sincere gratitude for your comfort.

"Forgive me, I did not bring you here to sully the mood," Mydeimos tells you. With a gentle tug of your hand, your fiancé pulls you through the homey clutter of the room and to the window built into the stone walls.

As your eyes gaze out into the horizon, you're met with the most significant view. Outside lay the entire city of Castrum Kremnos; the city sprawls across the horizon where life bustled beyond what they eye could see. The lights of city life twinkle vibrantly, rivaling the endless sea of stars that dance above you.

"It's beautiful," your words are a mere whisper as you stare in awe at the exuberant city life below you.

"Isn't it?"

Turning from the window, you're met with seas of gold peering back at you, unmoving yet shining with something you can't quite put your finger on. His gaze flits around you, dancing on every inch of your face as if unsure of where or what to look at. Whatever he was trying to convey makes your heart flutter and you're the first to break away from his stare.

"That reminds me," you begin as the warmth floods your chest and face, "I got you something for today." Your fingers pull out a small, velvet box and hold it out for your prince. He takes it in his own hands and, with gentle fingers, he opens it.

Inside lay a pair of earrings; gold shaped in the form of a diamond encasing a deep, azure sapphire and golden streams dropping below the blue gem. It's beautiful and shines brilliantly even with just the soft light of the moon glowing through the window.

"Happy birthday, Mydeimos."

With delicate movements, your betrothed lifts up one of the sapphire earrings. "May I?" Confusion eats away at your expression, but you give a slight nod and Mydeimos is moving with slow, calculated movements. His fingers brush against the skin of your jaw as he quickly fastens the earring to your right ear. When he's finished, his fingers trail down the drop of the earring until it slips from his fingertip.

"So that I will be reminded of who has my other half… Thank you, I will cherish this birthday forever, Princess."

Princess. The word echoes in the chamber of your mind and does little to settle the accelerando of your heartbeat or to the heat that threatens to reach every inch of your body.

You don't mind the way it sounds coming from him.

—

The day Mydeimos' mother passed was a depressing day. It seemed like even nature itself was mourning the life of Gorgo, the late Queen of Castrum Kremnos, for the sun did not shine for a whole week and rained through most of it as if shedding tears over her passing. The kingdom was oddly quiet; the bustling city life now dwindled down to nothing but quiet streets and hushed chatter winding through twisting roads.

The entirety of Castrum Kremnos was grieving, and yet your fiancé did not receive that luxury.

You witness this in real time; the way King Eurypon glares at his son with unabashed hatred. His regiment becomes more difficult and physically taxing with the excuse of 'political tension' and 'coming of age.' Mydeimos rarely has time to visit you at nightfall due to his unbearable schedule and on the few chances that he did come to visit you, the once vibrant seas of gold that twinkled in delight at your mere presence have dulled significantly.

His punishments have also grown in intensity; meals have been cut for any minuscule mistake whether it be not addressing another noble correctly or missing an opening during combat training. When the servants pity the poor prince, word would reach the King and they were swiftly dealt with; you don't remember the last time you saw Angeliki.

It happens early into the evening in the midst of your evening routine. The sun is barely setting over the horizon and casts your room in its warm, golden hue. It's rather peaceful as the day, for you at least, ended on a good note. With a book Mydeimos had recommended for you at the table by your window and your nightgown draped loosely over your body, the evening was sure to end with no conflicts and, hopefully, a late night visit from your fiancé.

Until the door of your bedchambers slams open and the young Eleni runs in, frantic and unkempt. Her eyes are wide open and strands of her curly hair stick out of her bun in every which way. If it were any normal circumstance, you would poke some fun at her for her disheveled appearance. But the worried expression on her face holds you back.

"Forgive me, My Lady," Eleni begins, her voice breathy, "but this is dire!"

"What has gotten you in such a panic?" You ask her, approaching the young handmaiden as she catches her breath. It takes her a few gulps of air but she eventually stands straight once more and meets your gaze almost immediately.

"My Lady, The King is planning to throw the Crown Prince into the forests," Eleni announces in all seriousness. "Tonight! With no weapons to bear as punishment for something asinine."

The news makes your heart drop to your stomach. Your eyes glance away for a second towards the sun rapidly sinking below the horizon outside your window; it will be dark tonight with the moon barely beginning to wax. Being out there would be a death sentence regardless of whether or not he is armed.

"Please, you have to stop him, My Lady! The Crown Prince will not survive if he goes; the forests at the outskirts of the kingdom are treacherous at night. Who knows what will be out there to get him," Eleni pleads with you, her voice growing more exasperated as seconds pass by.

"Help me get dressed, Eleni. Quickly."

The wind rushes past your ears as your feet pad rapidly against the cobbled floor leading into the main entrance of the main palace. As the heavy, ornate doors swing open, you're greeted with the knights restraining your fiancé by the arms. He looks worn, most likely from a training session that went beyond his limits along with further punishment from his father. His strawberry blond hair is a mess as it dangles messily in front of his face.

And yet you can see the gleam of his gold eyes behind the bloodied, matted tresses, warning you to leave him be.

As if.

"Your Majesty," Your voice shakes in fear, but it is unwavering for your devotion to your fiancé, "if I may, isn't this punishment too much?"

King Eurypon towers over you, glaring down with unfamiliar dark eyes. Despite the chill that runs through your spine, you lift your chin higher. No fear, you have to show no fear. With a deep breath, you continue.

"This is your son you are punishing, your own flesh and blood. Do you not worry that he will die out there? He is unarmed and night will fall."

The King looks at you as if you were a mere bug in his way; his glare is unmoving and his frown only deepens at your words. You hate how small you feel. "Are you aware of who you are speaking to?"

There's some rustling coming from where your fiancé was restrained. You could hear your name being said, but you did not falter in your conversation with The King.

"Yes, Your Majesty the King," You continue, "which is why it's pertinent. Is the Crown Prince not your sole heir to the throne? It would be futile if you punished him with a near death sentence."

"You would know best to not speak to me that way," King Eurypon's voice is low, a deep and powerful timbre that could swallow you whole if you made one wrong move. "A woman has no place in having authority over me. Send her back to her chambers, this conversation was useless."

"Your Majesty-!"

Your words are cut short as the guards pull you back and the last thing that you see before those doors were slammed shut in your face were tumultuous golden skies that only looked at you.

Even as minutes turn to hours and hours to days, nothing could soothe your nerves as thought after thought races through your mind of what could happen to Mydeimos out there in those forests. And when it came back to the scene with King Eurypon, you could feel the anger in your chest rising. The heat sears through your body, blinding your thoughts as King Eurypon's words echo in your mind.

'A woman has no place in having authority over me.'

Pitiful, that's what you are, and there was nothing you could do to make up for it. For The King was right, no woman would ever have the authority especially over him and your chest burns knowing this society could never let you have the freedom and power you so craved. Your eyes sting, and for the first time in a long while, you let your sobs rack through your body in frustration and anger for how useless you were in protecting the one person you promised to stay beside.

It couldn't have been more than a couple days when there was a loud noise outside of your bedchambers. The moon has long risen above the sky, barely turning into half of the crescent it was when Mydeimos was sent to his demise.

With quick steps, you make towards the entrance of your chambers. Opening the large, gilded door of your bedchambers, there's a body slumped on the floor. Blood soaks his clothes and there are undoubtedly wounds hidden underneath; how deep and severe they were was the true question. He's breathing haggardly, barely even conscious, and yet he musters the strength to glance up at the opened door.

You would have screamed if it weren't for the familiarity of gold peering into your own.

"Mydeimos!" You exclaim, kneeling down to his height. Your shaking hands push back the hair covering his face; it's sweaty and caked with liquid iron but at this point you truly do not care. Grabbing a hold of his face, you're careful in your inspection of your fiancé. He is careworn, exhaustion set deep in his gaze. And yet, when his eyes match your flitting eyes, his hardened stare seems to easily melt away and you're met face to face with the man who stood beside you from the first day you met him. "Oh Aeons above, you're alive…. What are you doing here of all places?! Did the infirmary reject you?"

Mydeimos parts his lips, chapped and dry from the forests, and his voice responds in a coarse whisper. "Forgive me. You were the first place I thought to go to."

"Are you mad?" You want to shake the life out of him for making an idiotic choice, but sincerity is laced in his words and you find you don't have the heart to, even when frustration eats away at every single nerve in your body. Despite the dire state that he's in, there's no fear evident on his face. Rather, he looks relieved to see you. "You definitely are, what am I saying."

"If it's madness to visit you first, then, please, call me insane."

You sigh, lifting your fiancé's arm around your shoulder in hopes of moving your wounded Crown Prince into the safety of your room. He's heavy, that you will not deny, but luckily Mydeimos retained a bit of strength to help alleviate his dead weight from your shoulders.

"Don't joke around with me right now," You hiss next to his ear. "Not in this state."

He collapses into one of the loveseats near the center of your room. In the brighter light, you're able to fully examine him now. There are multitude of wounds littering his body; most of them seem to be scrapes save for a larger laceration hidden underneath his shirt. You pray to Nikador that nothing was severely infected. If anything, the biggest concern was his hunger and dehydration.

"And if I'm not joking?" Mydeimos asks as pools of golden ichor trail after your body when you leave his side. You quickly return to him with a cup and jug of water. He eyes it, but doesn't move a muscle when you lift the fragile porcelain to his lips.

"Then I will plea insanity for your sake," You respond. Your fingers tilt the cup in a deliberate motion, careful not to overwhelm your fiancé with the fresh water. Seeing Mydeimos' throat bob as the water enters his system does wonders to alleviate your nerves and as he finishes you move to pour him some more.

"You haven't been sleeping," Mydeimos comments as you lift the cup once more. This time, his hand, large yet gentle, pushes your arm down and his gaze pierces through you. "Why is that?"

Setting the cup down, your fingers reach up and press gently into the puffiness of the eye bags that hang. Granted, his visit was a surprise to you so it wasn't like you had the time in the world to pretty yourself before seeing him. But you're sure you look a mess currently with the anxieties plaguing your thoughts and the tears of frustration that did not cease night after night.

"Care to take a guess?" You scoff lightly, not to be rude but to state the obvious.

Mydeimos does not answer immediately. Instead his hand encases your own and he tilts his head towards you. Truthfully, you do not want to meet his gaze. Despite his sincerity, you know deep down that because of your weakness to stand up against his father, he was in this position. But there's a squeeze of your hand, a whisper of your name.

And the walls that you've tried to hold together so desperately in front of him crumble down.

"You were gone for nearly a week, you know," You begin slowly, squeezing the hand encasing yours. He pulls you closer to him and you're now standing in the gap between his legs. His thumb rubs gentle circles across your hand and, as comforting as it is, it only tears your walls down even further. "And every passing day I wondered what I could've done to help you.

"I regret not being there, not being strong enough to fight against your father. Would you have not dealt with this if I had done anything else?" You take a shaking breath before you continue. There's the familiar stinging in your eyes, but you will yourself to not let them fall. Not yet.

"I failed you, My Prince," Your voice falters. "I couldn't do anything to help you and I feel so ashamed. And here I am, complaining about my measly feelings when you've come back from a near death experience as if I have any room to whine right now?"

His hand reaches up to your jaw; you don't move even as your betrothed wipes away the tears that have now shed without your knowledge. "You're hurt because of me, and I am so sorry. Please don't forgive me."

The tears sting the corner of your eyes and your hands meekly come up to wipe them away. But the Crown Prince is quicker than you are. Both of his hands delicately cup your face and his fingers brush away the crystalline tears that seem to never end. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as a feeble attempt to push him away; he doesn't move.

"My Princess," Mydeimos begins, his voice matching the tenderness of his gaze, "you have never hurt me. I cannot forgive you for a crime you did not commit."

A sob wracks through your body and something flashes across his expression, as if your cries alone were hurting him more than the wounds on his body ever could.

"Do not cry, I am alive, am I not? I promised to never leave your side." His voice is soothing, washing away your worries slowly with one word at a time. Maybe it's the way he speaks to you with a tone so soft and gentle, filled with nothing but his sincerity to comfort you. Or perhaps it's the way he's holding you like you're fragile, like you're cherished and adored. "As long as you're alive, then so will I. Do not shed tears for something as trivial as this punishment."

"Nothing is trivial when it comes to you, Mydeimos. Please never say that."

As your weeps echo in around your chamber, your fiancé remains by your side, even as the moon bids her farewell and the dawn greets you for another day. Every tear is swiftly wiped away and every apology is greeted with silent comfort. And yet, even as the grief strikes through your core, the worries that have plagued you before seem to dissipate with Mydeimos' mere presence by your side.

—

Your peace does not last long. Shortly after Mydeimos' return from the forests, the political tensions between Castrum Kremnos and the neighboring city of Okhema have grown. It does not take long before the pressure rises enough for war to be declared, courtesy of King Eurypon.

And with the cost of war comes with the price of men drafted to fight for the name of The King. Even your fiancé is not safe, especially as the Crown Prince.

The declaration of war unsettles the kingdom of Castrum Kremnos deeply; there are frantic whispers as people sit in their disbelief while others calmly accept their fate. A Kremnoan is not one to back from a fight, even if it is one they are not prepared for. The citizens are restless in their anxieties, and the castle is no less.

Due to the war preparations, Mydeimos' training has increased tenfold. Alongside his fellow knights and warriors, the Crown Prince has trained night and day to the point where you never did see him anymore. The glimpses you would catch would be during his sparring sessions if you so happened to walk past the training grounds within the palace.

And the one time you did catch him, exhaustion is etched in every crevice of his face. For a poor boy who had barely come of age, the pressures of his father and this oncoming conflict seemed to have aged him even more; it shows in the darkness of his eyes and unmoving frown carved into his skin.

But hope blooms in your chest when your gazes meet and the all familiar gold returns to his eyes as if it had never left. A beautiful, crystalline geode hidden within a rugged exterior; your childhood friend and ally underneath the mask of the Crown Prince.

On the night before the expedition, Mydeimos arrives outside your bedchambers at the usual time you used to meet. You're surprised to see him, honestly; with the send off being so close, you did not expect to see your fiancé so soon—if at all. Luckily, he's not dressed for training and has cleaned up before visiting you; his white nightshirt now fitting for his body and flowing loosely over his torso.

His hair is undone; the usual braid that drops at the side of his face is loose and his strawberry blond hair frames his face beautifully. His sapphire earring, the one that matches yours, dangles by his ear. It's radiant, luminous as it reflects the candlelit room like the eternal embers of the hearth of life. There's still a hint of fatigue sewn into his expression, like a permanent scar on his otherwise perfect tanned skin, but it immediately melts away upon seeing you at the other side of the door. Like the warmth of spring melting away the frigid winter snow, you've brought life to him with just your presence alone.

For a second, you get a glimpse of the bright eyed small boy he used to be and a sharp pang strikes through your heart.

"Is it too late to come and see you?" he asks you, his voice much deeper than the last time you remember it. His timbre rumbles low, almost the purr of a big cat.

"You don't have to ask, Your Highness." And, like clockwork, he walks in.

There's a comfortable silence between the both of you as you sit at the table near the window. Usually, there would be a glass of milky pomegranate juice for you to share, but tonight is different. Even the world itself knows this with the usual chirps of the crickets outside now a hushed melody and the moon hangs low in the sky with her light barely radiant as if she was too heartbroken for the next dawn.

"Do you really have to go?" You break the silence with a question, voice a mere whisper in the quiet of night. Your eyes remain locked to your lap where your fingers twist and fumble with one another.

And your heart sinks, heavy with reality, when he speaks again.

"Of course I do," Mydeimos replies, his voice alone is enough to calm you but the context of the conversation stirs the emotions in your heart. "Both as my duty as my father's son and as my pride as a Kremnoan."

There are a million thoughts that run through your mind; what if this worthless pride of his gets him killed or what if there's the chance he won't come home at all? What if the Okhemans take his life during their victory? And how much trouble would you be in if you knocked him out and ran away with him, far past the outskirts of this kingdom and away from this?

The Crown Prince exhales softly, a quiet laugh and your mind snaps back to this moment.

"Your worries are written all over your face, Princess," he speaks. You can hear the warmth dripping from his tone; there's a smile so evident in his voice and you feel your face flush from embarrassment. With that same timbre, he speaks your name as if he has known it for lifetimes. "Look at me, won't you?"

And you do.

All you can see are those endless pools of golden ichor peering back at you, molten aureate seas of candor and sincerity beckoning you to melt into them; to do nothing but have faith that you wouldn't drown in them.

"Do you remember what we vowed to each other?" he asks, gaze unwavering as he leans in closer to you.

"To always be by each other's side until the day we wed," you recite to him.

"And forevermore," Mydeimos finishes for you. "I intend to keep the promise. I'll come back victorious and meet you once again."

You bite your bottom lip as unease eats away at your nerves. Of course, your heart yearns to trust his words for he has done everything in his power to take your side in the years you've shared with him. But there will always be unprecedented circumstances that could always happen, experiences where it will lie out of both of your hands.

The thought of losing him forever terrifies you to your core.

But his eyes are unmoving and perhaps that is enough to let you fully trust him. It grounds you, reminds you of how much your fiancé has changed from the frail, thin boy who now towers over you with shoulders broader than your own. Even the loose nightshirt could not hide the expanse of muscles evident underneath and how they flex with every movement he makes.

Without a word you quickly rise from your seat, maneuvering around your chambers until you get to your nightstand. The wooden drawer slides open with ease and your fingers wrap around the white cloth inside. When you return to your betrothed's side, you realize his gaze has never left your body.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to give this to you," you begin with bated breath. Your fingers gently play with the soft cotton of the cloth before handing it out for Mydeimos to take. "It's a little rough, but an embroidered handkerchief is considered good luck for warriors, isn't it?"

There's an accelerando in your heartbeat as a large hand gingerly picks up the unstained cloth. He unfolds it, letting the handkerchief spread open. In the corner were three embroidered elements; one golden sun and two maroon pomegranates basking underneath it.

"Of course, you don't have to keep it if it's not your cup of tea," you ramble on as your heart leaps to your throat at his silence. "I just wanted you to feel safe even when you're out-"

A whisper of your name, quiet enough to blend into the comfortable silence of the room but deafening to your ears. Your gaze snaps up to meet his and you're met with a sunset that showers you in its warmth, a heat so calming and serene that all of your worries seem to dissipate.

Gold melting into halcyon days.

"Thank you. I'll cherish it on the battlefield."

There's a moment of reprieve, a second of tranquility. And it does little to calm your now racing heart over a feeling that is far from anxiety.

DUSK.

My Princess,

How have you been doing? Has my father treated you the same? Poorly? Let me know so I can return immediately. I hope that your days have not been as busy as mine. I apologize for breaking our oath to stay beside each other, but I promise you that I will return after this war and go straight to you.

My journey has not been long, but I miss you already. The nights do not feel the same without you by my side and I always wonder what you're doing while I'm on the front lines. The only thing that brings me comfort is the handkerchief you embroidered for me, and the fact that we remain under the same sky every day.

I'll see you soon. Wait for me.

Mydeimos.

—

My Princess,

This war has been…rough for me. I promise that I will fight until my very last breath. Not because I am the son of King Eurypon and Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos, but because I am your betrothed and we have made an oath together.

I wish to see you again, you are my only hope in this wretched war. Like the sun's rays, you will guide me back home… back to your side.

I will not fall in this war, I promise I will return to you. So do not shed any tears for me. I hate seeing you cry, and I hate it even more knowing that I am the reason.

Wait for me, I promise I will see you soon.

Mydeimos.

—

My sole Princess,

We have finally breached enemy lines and I guarantee that by the time you've received this letter we will come out victorious. I can finally put an end to this useless war and save the lives of more innocent men forced to fight for the name of their king. I've seen many disturbing sights while on this treacherous journey, and I wish you to never see them.

It will not be long before I return to you, my Princess. How has life in the palace been? It has been years since we last seen each other, will you remember how I look like? Have you changed?

Please wait for me, you will be the first person I greet when I return.

Mydeimos.

—

Four years have passed since your fiancé was sent off to war and declared victory of the war between Castrum Kremnos and Okhema. When the victory was announced, there was a moment of silence before the entire kingdom bursts in cheers loud enough that you were sure Nikador could even hear of the celebrations. But most importantly, the relief was tangible.

No more innocent lives thrown away due to a selfish and ignorant king.

News of the Crown Prince being the one to end the final battle spread like wildfire among the citizens and whispers of praise echo through the winding streets of the main city. Mydeimos is a hero in the eyes of Castrum Kremnos, and he will return with nothing but endless celebrations to commemorate the honor of victory.

The main palace is bustling with life once more as Mydeimos' celebratory banquet thrives with excited chatter and boisterous laughter. It's a happy event, much more pleasant than the previous event held in the grand banquet hall. The chandelier above remains an endless web of crystallized light and the servants are busy winding in and out of the crowd of guests eager to finally catch a glimpse of the returned hero.

"My Lady, what an honor to see you!"

"Aren't you proud of your fiancé? His honor as a Kremnoan will bring pride to us all."

"Will the wedding be held soon after this?"

"Marvelous party, My Lady. Give thanks to The King for hosting such an event."

An event you planned, but you let the empty pleasantries slide. Your hands are full entertaining guests and greeting other nobles as they crowd you with vacuous comments and hollow small talk.

Lost in the cacophonous and draining chatter of nobles you don't seem to care for, your attention is away from the announcement of a name you're all too familiar with and it isn't until the crowd surrounding you explodes in cheers that you realize who has entered the hall.

Mydeimos is much broader than the last time you saw him; though you didn't think that could be possible. He's adorned in white cloth draped over his body held in place with belts and buckles made of pure gold; a crimson cape drapes over one of his shoulders like blood smeared across a canvas. They're loose on his body, yet do nothing to hide what lay underneath. A wreath of aureate leaves sits on top of his head; a physical reminder of his status in the room and his future role as King. The blue sapphire you gifted him drops down from his left ear, sparkling as if announcing who he belonged to.

Tendrils of red ink decorate his tan skin. They're the mark of heroes, a badge of honor that only few in Castrum Kremnos get to have. Deep crimson ink make trails leading up his arms, over his chest, and dip underneath the fabric of his clothes—wherever they lead to on his body piques your curiosity. They're ethereal on him, a wonderful contrast against his otherwise perfect skin.

And your heart lurches at his eyes that are locked only on you.

The clamor of the banquet grows distant as soon as you step out into the connecting balcony and shut the large, paned door behind you. With the endless night sky above you as your only company, you finally have your moment of reprieve away from the perpetual mindless chatter of nobles and other guests. You walk towards the railing of the balcony and look over the palace gardens; paved cobblestone winding between green bushes blooming with white blossoms and a fountain built right in the center of it all.

It's beautiful, simple and peaceful with only the muffled celebrations from the banquet inside as your white noise.

"I thought I'd find you here." A familiar voice calls out to you and you turn away from the gardens to meet his gaze.

The blazing sun.

And you're burning underneath his rays.

"To think I spent all these years in war, and I didn't get a single greeting?" He's much less intimidating up close compared to the banquet hall with thousands of eyes on him. However, it could be because he's alone here with you. There's a twinkle in his eye and a small smile curls at the corner of his lips. Handsome and boyish. "Did you forget me already?"

"How could I ever?" You respond back with a smile of your own. Heavy footsteps walk towards you and you find Mydeimos leaned against the railing beside you. He's close enough where you can catch a whiff of his scent—clean, floral with hints of musk and bergamot— and feel his elbow bumping into yours. He's warm; you are too, but you're beginning to doubt if it's because you're naturally warm.

Or because he's here.

"I'm glad to see you again," you tell him as you cast your gaze back up into the night sky. The evening breeze brushes past the two of you, cool and brisk, and Mydeimos takes this moment to remove the scarlet cape and drape it over your own shoulders. His scent engulfs you; his warmth a residue of his own body over yours.

Your heart thrums against your eardrums.

"I thought about you everyday, you know," Mydeimos confesses beside you and your breath hitches.

"How so?" You stammer out, words nearly toppling over one another. "Like how I used to cry over silly things?"

"In a way," Mydeimos agrees and you frown at his response. "But more so because I missed you, and I hate seeing you cry especially if I know it's because of me."

Normally, his honesty would barely phase you, but something in the way that he speaks to you sets a storm of butterflies free in your stomach. perhaps it's from the buzz of the banquet or because you've finally reunited with him after all these years waiting for his return.

Or maybe it's because he's so close to you. When had he leaned down to hear you better and when was his face so close to yours?

"Would you hate me if I asked for a kiss to celebrate?" he asks, voice low and quiet but never has he been so clear.

Your heart beats wildly against your chest, an accelerando that has gone way too fast way too quick and you cannot stop your eyes from staring at his lips only mere inches away. You nod.

His lips find yours with ease and all of the feelings you've built up from the moment you first met seems to bloom, melting into the kiss. He feels so comforting, everything feels so perfect and so right when it comes to him. He feels like your home, your only place to be free. And you don't ever want to leave.

When he pulls away, there are no words spoken. The only sound filling the silence are your quiet breaths intermingling with one another. Molten gold peer down at you, half lidded and taking in your every movement. There's residue of your lip stain on his lips and your fingers reach up to wipe it off.

A large hand encases your wrist, holding it in place while Mydeimos turns his head and presses another kiss to the palm of your hand. Heat blooms in your chest; your heart is soaring across the heavens above and you're worried it'll never come down if he continues this.

"Mydeimos… My Prince, I think I have fallen for you." Your voice is breathy and light, almost in disbelief at the words you've just spoken.

At first, Mydeimos doesn't say anything. Instead, his brows furrow as confusion etches itself across his face. "We've been engaged for over a decade and will wed soon."

Your face flushes at his words. "I-I know! It's just… I never realized what I was feeling towards you until now."

Your prince laughs softly, a chuckle that is carried off into the wind like a melody only you are meant to hear. He releases your wrist, only to reach up and brush away a strand of hair that has gone astray. He's warm, and basking in his unyielding attention makes you warmer.

"Then the feelings are returned. For you've ruined me, I cannot go a day without thinking of you. And now that we're together again, I never wish to be apart again, my wife."

His words echo in the chambers of your mind as he leans down once more to kiss you again underneath the light of the moon. And you're reminded again and again of the love you hold for him as well as the affections harbored for you through the lifetime that you've known one another. His hand cups your jaw, holding you as if you were his last drop of moonlight in the depths of an eternal night.

For you are his eternity, his solace, and he is yours.

Phainon's hands are hot against your skin; they've slipped your shirt off at one point—you don't remember when exactly—and have settled against your waist. He holds you against him, steadying your body as you straddle your legs across his lap.

He groans in the midst of your heated kiss, the sound so decadent and alluring right next to your ears as your lips move in tandem. It's messy; the sounds of your lips smacking and the muffled moans your boyfriend pulls from your lips fill the room.

His hands squeeze your waist gently before pulling your panty-clad core against the hardened cock hidden behind his pants. You whimper softly, the pleasure coursing through your body in waves with each grind of your hips. The friction sends fire shooting down your nerves—an addicting feeling that you desperately chase after.

Your hands steady yourself, gripping his arms for support as your hips rut against his in a comfortable rhythm; each grind rubs perfectly against your clit and sends waves of pleasure burning through your body.

"Ph-Phainon…" You stutter, your head falling to your boyfriend's shoulder as your soaked panties do you no good. "Please…"

"Please what, dawnlight?" Phainon coos into your ear. His breath his hot and cool at the same time and your body shivers at the feeling. "Go on, use your words."

Heat spreads through your body at the shameful idea of vocalizing your needs and wants. At first, you whine pitifully into his shoulder reluctantly and cling onto his body as your hips grind helplessly against his hardened cock. But he clicks his tongue and his big, strong hands lift your waist from his and all the tension from before quickly melts away.

"Please… I need your fingers…" You whimper. "Get me ready for you."

Your boyfriend chuckles softly, but he does as you say with a quiet 'Anything for you, princess'. His hand slips past your waist, slipping between your thighs and runs a finger across your clothed core. His finger is large and steady as he gently prods at your soaked cunt. Your panties are surely a mess by now, but you don't care at this point.

You don't have to see him to know how he's grinning from ear to ear.

"Don't-" you begin to protest, but he beats you to it.

"Eager, are we? You must really want me," Phainon teases you with both his words and his finger gently rubbing you through your panties. "My pretty princess, look at you so needy and desperate for me. You're so beautiful, I love seeing you like this." You can't hold back the moan as he massages your clit; your panties creating the nice friction as he rubs you off but you need more than just this.

Your mouth opens, a curse at him on the tip of your tongue, but you can only let out a strangled moan as your boyfriend pushes your panties to the side and slips a finger through your soaked slit. He finds your clit with ease, finally, rubbing gentle circles against the sensitive nub and eyes never leaving your face as he watches every reaction from you.

"That's it. Tell me how good I make you feel," Phainon murmurs, ocean eyes twinkling underneath the dim light of your living room. His finger curls into your soaked pussy and you whine pathetically above him as the pleasure heightens from within you.

"What was that, dawnlight?" Your boyfriend coos and you want to desperately send him a glare. But all you can do is spread your pretty legs apart so you can comfortably ride his finger. "Say that again for me, will you?"

"S'good." Your words are slurred together in ecstasy as your lover gently thrusts his finger in and out of you. In the midst of your indulgence, you lean forward to capture Phainon's lips in another kiss; half because you desperately needed a kiss and half because it was an attempt to shut him up.

However, your sloppy kiss is met with a muffled chuckle as your boyfriend kisses you back with ease and slips another finger inside of you. Your whimper is easily swallowed by his eager kisses.

His rhythm picks up and you're left panting as your hips desperately try to keep up in the chase for your climax. As your orgasm nears closer and closer, you pull away from Phainon's kiss to throw your head back in nothing but utter pleasure.

"I-I'm close…!" You warn your lover.

"Go on, I'm watching."

A burning white fire sears through your body as your climax washes over you. Wave after wave of pleasure course through your nerves and Phainon gently coaxes out the rest of your orgasm as your pussy squeezes his fingers curled inside of you.

Your half lidded eyes finally meet his gaze when you've come back to your senses, never breaking even as he pulls his fingers from you and licks them clean.

"Oh, you're so decadent, my dawn," Phainon coos, brushing back your hair. Beautiful seas of blue graze over your face and down over your body as he takes in your appearance."You're so stunning, I can never get over how beautiful you are."

"Oh please, you're being corny," you say in response, finally looking away. And yet, your lover's large hand gently guides your face back to his and you're forced to look into the sincerity that swims in his eyes.

"I mean every word I say, princess," Phainon begins, eyes flitting down to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. He takes a moment to take you in before leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, to your jaw and to the crook of your neck. "I love everything about you. You're so beautiful to me, in many ways that I can't even describe.

"I love your laughter when I say or do something silly to get your attention, I love the way your eyes shine when you talk about your favorite things to me," Phainon presses a kiss to your shoulder before continuing. "I love how determined you are when you have a goal in mind, and I love how you seem to make any room you walk into shine with just your energy.

"Everyone loves you, you know that, and I love that everyone does. They understand just how charming and sweet you are, even if you deny it with every fiber of your being." Phainon smiles up at you, nothing but genuine affection directed at you and only you. It feels like the sun is shining directly on you, but its warmth never burns you; it only gives you life. "I love you so much, you don't even know it, princess."

"Okay, Okay, I get it, cornball." You cover Phainon's mouth with your hands, and yet all he does is press kisses into your palm. "I love you too, just as much."

Your confession is much smaller, but that's all that your boyfriend needs to hear. You can see the sparkles in his eyes get much brighter and, before you know it, your boyfriend has already scooped you into his arms.

Your back is met with the familiar cushion of your mattress. You don't even get a second to get up as your broad boyfriend climbs over you with his shirt off—when did he take that off?—and his hands unbuckling and pulling everything off.

"I love you," Phainon murmurs before his lips crash onto yours for another kiss, breathy and needy from the mood before. "I love you."

That phrase is like a mantra as he whispers it in between every kiss. When you finally pull away to let yourself breathe, your boyfriend finds his home in the crook of your neck. He presses kisses onto the expanse of your skin; every once in a while does he stay in a spot to suckle and bite to leave his mark.

You feel his hardened cock before you can see it, his eagerness for you quite evident in the way its pressing into your damp, cum-soaked panties.

"Phainon-" You begin again, breath hitching as your boyfriend ruts his dick in between your clothed folds. He groans as his tip presses into your clit and sends a wave of pleasure down both of your bodies.

"Mm, what is it, my dawn?" Phainon murmurs into your ear.

"Can you…" Your words trail off shyly before you whine softly as his hips playfully grind into yours.

"I wanna hear your pretty voice say it, my love," Phainon hums in your ear, the grin so clearly evident in his voice. "Tell me what you want, and I'll deliver it to you."

You sigh shakily, fingers burying themselves into his silvery hair and yanking on them. Light enough to not hurt him, but harsh enough to get your frustration across.

"Please, I need you to fuck me."

Phainon laughs softly. His lips press into the side of your face, but he does as he's told. His fingers deftly rid you of your cum-soaked panties—thank goodness—and they're tossed to who knows where. His fingers gently squeeze your thighs before spreading your legs; his eyes graze over your exposed pussy and you have half a mind to close your legs underneath his gaze.

As if reading your mind, your boyfriend easily holds your legs apart with a cheeky smile before pushing into your cunt. His warmth fills every inch of you, stretching you out inch by inch until his hips finally meet your own.

"My pretty angel," Phainon murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips into an affectionate kiss. "My love for you is endless, do you know that?"

It's hard to answer your lover's question when his hips begin to move on his own accord. It's slow at first, dragging through your walls to feel every inch of you and savoring every squeeze of your cunt around his dick. Then, when the pleasure begins to build in the most decadent way, the waves of depravity begin to course through your veins once more as Phainon's hips pull farther away from yours before slamming back to you.

"Ph-Phainon...!" Is all you can moan out as your boyfriend slams his cock repeatedly into your soaking pussy. The wet squelches are cacophonous alongside the wanton moans pulled from your lips and the loud whimpers from your boyfriend as the end of your passionate journey nears its end.

"M-me too…" He manages to stutter out. One of his arms wraps around your waist, holding you steady as his hip pistons into yours in a desperate chase to your climax. "I'm close…"

Phainon's lips crash down onto yours, sealing your lips into a messy kiss while his free hand finds yours to hold as your orgasm hits you both. You had come first; the fiery ecstasy burning through your body and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your walls clench desperately around his hardened dick, squeezing him until he comes messily deep within your cunt.

Eventually, the messy rhythm of your hips slow down to a lazy roll until Phainon has stilled his hips completely. Yet, he remains kissing you, though this time the kiss is slow and intimate. When he finally pulls away to let you breathe, his eyes shine like there's no tomorrow. Phainon is gleaming down at you with a look that screams nothing but 'I love you' in his half-dazed expression.

"It's impossible, by the way," Phainon says, tossing the wet rag to clean you into the laundry basket. His finger gently caresses the side of your face as his eyes look deep into your own. He's smiling as if you've the light of the sun in the palm of your hands.

You give him an incredulous look—is this his new version of pillow talk? "What in Amphoreus are you talking about?"

He laughs, beautiful and hearty, before leaning in to kiss you again; this time soft and quick. "When you said you love me just as much. There's no way that you love me more than I love you."

"I find that hard to believe."

The rest of the night is spend bickering with each other over who loves each other more until your voice dwindles down to nothing but a gentle snore. Only then does Phainon claim his victory, pressing his lips to your forehead before pulling you into his arms to join you, his dearly beloved, in slumber.