Hi, I really do like your writing, and thank you for feeding us. Could I request Amphoreus men x reader, meeting their future child (toddler age? feel free to adjust if needed) that accidentally somehow managed to go back in time to the doomed timeline. I was thinking that they meet at the market, or someplace else and don't connect the dots until later. Maybe their future child meets them during version 3.0. This is one of my favorite prompts, and I am not sure what the limit for how many characters so I will just stick to those 3. Feel free to modify to help you write it better!
âSomewhere in Time, You Knew Meâ
Tags: Mydei x Reader, Anaxa x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Time Travel, Found Family, Future Child, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Moments, Mystery, Subtle Romance (Between the Characters and Reader), Prophecy, Tender Interactions, Hidden Identities (Phainon).
Warnings: Brief Mentions Of War/Violence, Bittersweet Undertones, Emotional Themes, Grief Implied, Canon-Typical Tragedy, Vague Spoilers for 3.0.
He had never liked markets. Too loud. Too cramped. Too full of merchants selling false wisdom as truth.
Yet here he was in Okhemaâs Marmoreal Market, pausing amid stalls glittering with trinkets, books, and broken philosophies, freshly displaced from the wreckage of the train attack, feeling like a derailed thought in a half-written theory.
He shouldâve noticed the child sooner.
They werenât loud. Werenât crying. Just staring.
At him.
From behind a stack of secondhand tomes, their gaze locked on hisâeyes wide with that raw, inquisitive intensity only possessed by the terribly young and the terrifyingly perceptive.
ââŠYouâre not supposed to be alone,â he said, kneeling.
The child blinked. Then smiled.
âYou still smell like old books and fire,â they said softly, tugging his hand with unearned familiarity. âDid you finish your big truth-thing yet?â
He froze.
ââŠWhat?â
But they only giggled and twirled the crimson ends of his jacket between their fingers. âRenny says you never sleep because youâre afraid youâll miss the right question. But you donât need to find it now. Itâs okay. Youâll get there. I remember.â
I remember.
Anaxa's tongue turned to ash. He stood, but the child had already scampered off, tugged by the hand of an unfamiliar guardian. His breath faltered.
Later that night, after the templeâs first healing circle, you found him sitting alone, half-drunk on clarity and silence.
âI saw something strange,â he murmured without looking at you.
You sat beside him. âThe market child?â
He gave a tight, humorless smile.
âThey quoted my unfinished thesis... one I havenât even written yet.â A pause. âThey looked like you. The eyes were mine. The defiance? That was all you.â
You squeezed his hand. No more words needed.
Truth always arrived late in Anaxagorasâs worldâbut for once, it came wearing small shoes and boundless affection.
The market was noisyâof course it wasâbut Mydei moved through it like the war-forged ghost he was, unnoticed unless he wished otherwise.
He only stopped when a familiar stall caught his eyeâpomegranates and goat cheese. His favorite (but he'll never admit it anyone out loud).
He was about to walk past when a voice piped up:
âYouâre going to buy two, right? Renny says you always buy two.â
A small hand tugged on the hem of his cape.
He turned.
A child, barely to his thigh in height, stared up at him with unnerving certainty. Their eyes sparkled. The markings on their arm mimicked the style of the Kremnoan dynasty, though subtly softened. Almost playful.
âWhat did you say?â
âYou always buy two. One for you. One for Renny. And you always pretend not to like the cheese part infront of Renny.â
The weight in his chest threatened to collapse him. âI⊠do I know you?â
The child tilted their head, thoughtful. âNot yet.â
A soft laugh. Not mocking. Just honest.
They pointed toward the temple ruins, to where you waited among the crowd, oblivious.
âIâm not sâposed to talk long. You told me that. Said it would mess stuff up.â Then, more quietly: âBut you looked tired. I wanted you to smile today.â
And like a memory from a battle he couldnât place, they vanished into the market crowd.
Later, after Nikadorâs second assault was narrowly held back (or finished, I don't remember, sorry), he returned to you, bloodied but alive. He told you nothing.
Just held you a little longer that night. Just listened to you a little more.
And when the next market run came, he bought two.
He even ate the cheese, without pretending to not liking it.
Phainon loved markets. Not for the goods, but for the laughter. The noise. The people who still believed in something.
He had just finished helping a merchant unload broken refugee crates when a small voice called out.
âKhaslana.â
The name hit like a spear through dream-fog.
He turned.
A child waved at him from atop a barrel, legs swinging. âThatâs your secret name, right? You used it in the sad world. But youâre not sad here. Not yet.â
Phainon blinked. His first instinct was to dismiss itâchildren say strange things.
But this one had your smile. Your exact smile.
He approached slowly.
âYou know that name?â
They nodded. âYou let me borrow your coat sometimes when it storms. It smells like sun and fighting. And Renny says you still snore when you nap, even if you try to deny it.â
A pause.
âI wanted to see you again⊠before the world wakes up. Before you go.â
He crouched to meet their eyes. âIâm⊠going somewhere?â
They looked guilty. âOops. You always say spoilers are bad.â
Their little hands patted his armored gauntlet as if it were a bandage.
âDonât worry. You come back. You always come back.â
Then, just like a blink in a failing simulation, they were gone.
Phainon stood frozen until your voice brought him back. You'd found a trinketâand were beaming as you showed it to him.
Later, after your group reached the Marmoreal Palace and Phainon stood beneath a sky trembling with prophecy, he touched the gauntlet on his arm and whispered:
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Calling it before it happens. We start leaning towards "caring about things is uncool" again because the preformative nature and faux virtue of social media.