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kii-nami · 5 months ago

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STAINED GLASS ELYSIUM, EVERLASTING | MYDEI

He met you for the first time under the warm sunlight. Heavenly and haunting, your song would hold him hostage long after this mortal flesh of yours corroded into divine dust. Hundreds of wandering bards crossed the border of Castrum Kremnos for the Kremnos Festival, yet the strumming of your harp was not the same as those others. Otherworldly, you sang a song of days long gone, all but forgotten even by those who strived to remember. Those souls were crying, driven by the heartbreak in your voice they yearned to relive the love which was never theirs to hold. You never consoled them; a painted nail caught on a string of your harp, you continued your performance until there were no tears left to cry, until the dull ache of winning the tournament mattered not, until the dusk fell upon the far away hills of a meadow.

cw: 10.5k words; fem!mc; a spinoff to this fic; phainon's part is here; mentions of infidelity and infertility (both in relation to mydei and mc); childbirth and infant death; just ridden with angst, i'm sorry; phainon and cyrene are in there somewhere; i am not a honkai scholar i am simply freaky; please send asks ig

In the promised eternity of endless flamechase, his body died a hundred times before his soul tasted the pain of passing.

To experience true immortality, you must drown in the waters of parting first and when Mydeimos died for the first time he was barely old enough to recall the lingering aftershocks of ache as his lungs caved in on themselves. His father had a lot of enemies, and the ego of a king could only rival that of a god. And so, unable to depart to the other side to slumber forever on the kind shores of the most merciful of rivers, Mydeimos was reborn anew.

Again and again death welcomed him into her embrace just to reject him like a lover scorned. Turning away from him, temperamental in her whims, death denied his wishes of peace. Loss after loss, the ache of pain dulled into numb throbbing, the misery of guilt bled into darkness haunting his restless dreams. Young and lost, he learned to chase the glory of victory with a certainty of an inevitable future and a thought of an insignificant present.

People called him Mydeimos the Undying, the crown prince which would bring them to a glorious victory of eternal prosperity with one merciless slash of his sharpened spear. Gorgo called him her irresponsible only pride; then opened the blinds letting the sharp, blinding morning light into his chambers so Mydeimos couldn’t escape from his duties amidst the shame of restless slumber. Eurypon called him his only prized creation, dropping his own unachievable dreams on the shoulders of a young man who unwittingly carried all of them with a wandering eye of a deserter. And you, you just called him Mydei.

A fleeting glance, you bowed with grace which could never belong to the land of the human men. A coin or two, a warrior always paid his dues. Worth more than anything a man like him could offer, Mydei was too lost in the glow of your dark eyes to think of the future. Immature, his mother called him, as he brought yet another spear to add to his bottomless collection. Foolish boy, his mother chastised him when he dropped all his savings into your woven basket.

On their way home she laughed then, a good-natured shake of her head. Young and naïve, Mydeimos knew death before he knew life in its fullest. Yet learning to live would bring departure upon those whose hearts he wished would never cease beating. In life and in death, for all the eternity, in all the memories that bound you like gold that mended the stained-glass windows of your childhood home, he was forever yours even if you could never be his fully.

“Weren’t you saving for a new polearm, Mydeimos?” Gorgo was smug, her accusatory eyebrow raised in a question which could never be answered truthfully without the burning embarrassment painting his face bright red.

“I’m a prince.” Barely twenty and desensitized to suffering, Mydei was still trying to learn the art of deception. His face betrayed him, and his heart fought against him, and even hundreds of years later he would never achieve his dream of becoming a masterful liar under the eyes of those he loved. “And young women don’t travel to other Cities alone out of easy lives.”

A hearty chuckle, she crinkled her nose just like a cat. Long since unable to match his height, Gorgo patted his shoulder with a force that would send a mortal man tumbling, “Whatever you say, son.” Then she passed him by, lost in the busy crowd of the market, leaving Mydei alone with his own thoughts.

Mydeimos wandered aimlessly through the marketplace, an avoidant heir unwilling to see his father the last thing before nightfall. The blacksmith gave him a casual wave, far too old to care about the titles and pleasantries. Mydei nodded, a curt greeting was all he could muster before turning around and heading for the castle. There wasn’t a chance he would regret his decision and there was no point in crying about the time which could not be returned.

He never strayed too far, stopped on his way home by a chilly midnight current blowing past him. It grazed his armor, staggering, all frigid and fragile as he was barely fast enough to catch it from falling apart because of him.

Secure in his arms, your dark eyes widened in horror, as the prince steadied you firmly on your feel. “Oh, it’s you.” Trembling, anxious heart, Mydeimos tried to play it cool. Far removed from the mortality of the common folk, he pretended that his soul wasn’t stuttering in his chest whenever you looked up at him.

“My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.” You muttered hastily, an awkward bow of your head interrupted by his hand still pressed so foolishly to yours.

“It’s fine.” Mydeimos released you then; and a lingering sensation of disappointment that washed over him, hit his muscles way harder than any dull ache of death ever did. Unsure and timid, you gaze flickered from him to the thinning crowd of the marketplace, as if not knowing whether you should leave him be or stay in the warmth of his presence for a little bit longer. One indecisive step from you, his heart ran his mind into the ground searching for a reason to hold you back. “Your songs. They were good.”

Clumsy and inexperienced, Mydeimos could never look you in the eye, yet you still laughed, your hand covering your mouth as you caught yourself on such action. “Thank you.” A proper bow this time, he wished for nothing more than for you to lift your head. “Knowing you found them enjoyable is a great honor, Your Highness.”

“Mydeimos.” He stated his name with the stiff realization that in the eyes of everyone but himself, a prince and a lone girl with no noble blood could never be of equal status. “My name.”

“I cannot possibly disrespect you in such a way.” He insisted you called him that when your shaky pupils gave away your apprehension, then again, and then once more. Until it dripped from your lips like honey, coating his skin in the stickiness of self-disgust. “Speaking of…” You never noticed his turmoil, or maybe graciously pretended to close a blind eye on such frivolities coming from a man of his status. Simply reached your hand into your woven basket, fishing his coin pouch out and handing it back to Mydeimos with a steadfast determination, “Please take it back.”

“No.” Mydeimos refused you before his mind could register his words. “I gave it to you. Don’t you need money? Take it.”

Maybe he was scaring you away instead of whatever his feverish brain thought he was doing. Maybe his stony face finally failed him when it mattered the most and now you wished to rid yourself of a debt he unknowingly burdened you with. But whatever you did to him, whatever your song rearranged inside his body to yearn for you so when the countless chances of love dropped onto his unwilling hands every day, it felt like a blessing straight from Mnestia’s holy hands.

“I do.” You agreed, yet your midnight gaze hardened then, completely devoid of the hesitation Mydeimos saw in your eyes right before that moment. The skin of your fingers was bitingly cold against his when you dropped the coin pouch onto his reluctant hold, “But I cannot take that which others need more.”

“I’m a prince.” The deadpan tone of his voice lifted the corners of your mouth just enough to kick him off a cliff.

Unshakable in your will, you fought your battles well for someone whose hands could never lift a weapon, “Two coins are enough.”

“Weren’t you afraid of disrespecting me?” To his own horror, Mydei caught himself on a thought that despite knowing nothing of who you were, he was willing to let you walk all over him if it meant your attention remained so glued to his person as it was now. “I’m feeling offended right now.”

Caught red-handed on his bluff yet never outed by your admittance of seeing right through his clumsy lies, Mydeimos watched you fruitlessly bargain against your own interests, all for his sake. “Three.” A stern look from him forced you to raise the price, “Four.” Reluctant to accept your bargain, Mydeimos said nothing, but it was his petty huff that finally made you concede, “Five and a song especially for you.”

Tempted by his own selfish desires, Mydeimos accepted. “Deal.”

Far too fast for his own liking; so easily that his mother would make fun of him if she were ever to find out. So he gave you twenty. You returned them to Mydei the next day and he felt like a scoundrel for tricking you into following him around the city once more. Days morphed into weeks; weeks bled into months. Your laughter could rival the most delicate of tunes born under your tender hands, your presence was the sweetest of ambrosias and Mydeimos was greedily sipping from a cup that did not belong to him. He dreamt not of terror but of your touch as your hands accidentally brushed against each other, he woke up not with the thought of postponing the inevitable but the desire to conclude his day with the scent of oranges and cinnamon lingering in his lungs as he fell into a rare restful sleep.

This love felt alive. It breathed air into his body. It fueled his heart with yearning. It filled him with horrors of a kind which Mydei never thought himself capable of experiencing.

Then you admitted that your stay at Castrum Kremnos was as fleeting as the blossoms dusting all over the peach orchard planted around the meadow.

“I will be going home tomorrow.” An air of finality to your words, your fingers plucked the flowers, weaving them into intricate patterns.

“I see.” For a second his absurd mind sent him spiraling, an ego death the kind of which Mydeimos was yet to experience till now. Yet one look onto your form, all guarded and caving in on yourself, Mydeimos rejected his own immortality, resurrecting himself from the ashes of who he was before he met you.

Five days after your first meeting, amidst the greens of a meadow, he found out the truth of your origin. A blessed daughter of Aedes Elysiae, a Chrysos Heir just like him, you governed time and memories, yet rejected the flamechase in the eternal pursue of remembrance. He understood very little but still sat next to you so closely. Far too fast and far too intimate, the ache of longing grew stronger in his chest.

Yet the fear that gripped his throat every waking moment when he dared to think of touching you, it clawed at his chest mercilessly. Far too kind, you refused to gaze upon the future, convinced that the miracles Oronyx blessed you with were far to cruel on Them. Far too fragile, your body was not made from the same steel as his or any other person born of Nikador’s will. How was Mydeimos supposed to indulge himself in his greed when any careless touch of his could leave you in ruin? Not finding an answer to his musing, he hesitated.

“I will be back.” You promised hastily, eager to assure him of your devotion. “It’s just for a month. Would you like me to bring you something from Aedes Elysiae?”

Yourself. You and the chill of your presence. You and your dress that slid off your shoulder at any movement, grazing the line far too inappropriate for an eye that did not belong to him. You and your song, the one that only he got to hear, surrounded by these blooming fields.

A prince, an heir, a victor. A coward, Mydeimos thought, as he gave up his desires for a chance of seeing you again, “Oranges. Those sweet ones.” Far too demanding in his request, Mydeimos corrected himself, yet you never chastised him for his arrogant ways, “If that’s okay.”

“It’s okay if it’s you.” You admitted then, dropping the flowers onto the grass, then running your index finger along the ruby mark on his cheek. Suddenly far too close for your own safety, your face merely an inch away from his, you leaned even closer with your eyes wide open. Mydeimos scooted away hurriedly, restless hands gripping his own clothing as to not make any mistakes he would regret. It stopped him not from drowning in remorse, as you scurried to your feet, shamefully tugging the sleeve of your dress back in its rightful place, “Forgive me, Your Highness. It was far too audacious of me to think a prince would reciprocate my foolish hopes. Please excuse me.”

“Wait, don’t go.” Darting after you before you could slip away from his reach, Mydeimos tugged you onto himself carelessly. Worry of your fragility all but forgotten as you looked upon him from his lap, your knees planted firmly into the green grass surrounding you, “That’s not–”

“Is there someone else, then?” You cut him off almost desperately, shaky hands gripping his shoulders and crossing the distance between you in a way his hesitant self had yet to learn. “Someone better than me, someone more beautiful, someone who knows how to handle a weapon, someone who deserves to stand side by side with you? Is there someone like that?” How foolish you were, thinking there could be another when every morning he woke up with the idea of you. How delusional you were, pondering over your worth when he closed his eyes and saw nothing but your image gazing up at him. One quick look in his memory would let you know his every shameful thought, and yet here you were blessedly unaware of his crudely contained greed as you indulged him in your touch. “I long for you, but do you think of me or has your heart been stolen by another?”

“I dream of you every waking moment.” How terrifying it was to admit it back then, a weakness which a young man like him thought of as a mortal wound to his feeble pride. Yet you listened, welcoming and attentive. So cautiously still, as your dress fell askew once more, barely tied by two loose strings at the back of your waist. “I’m afraid. I’ve only known the life of strife inside those city walls, and I was never good at handling brittle and delicate things. What if I’m not careful? What if I hurt you?” Anxious rambling escaping his mouth before his mind could orderly arrange his thoughts, Mydeimos tried his hardest to not let his eyes wander over the expanse of your unclothed skin, exposed chest raising and falling frantically as you caught his gaze for a fleeting moment. Finding some perch amidst his erratic battle with gluttony, he solemnly stopped at a patch of green smudged over the fabric of your skirts “Your dress is stained now. I apologize.”

“You hold me so gently for someone so afraid of hurting me…” Your breath on his lips, your fingers caressing his hand, you cared not for the fleeting fragility of your own life. “Others wouldn’t have cared that they stained my dress.”

“There were others?” Taken aback by his own racing feelings, Mydeimos gripped your waist harsher, drawing you impossibly close to himself, an unintended pull on the strings of your dress forcing them completely undone.

“What if there were?” Your teasing left him desperate, all flushed with nonsensical jealousy. Yet just as fast as you were to bring the worst in him up to the surface, you hurried to cure the ache that your careless words left behind. “Is it that bad for me to break under your touch? Break me all you want, pour gold into the cracks of my bleeding flesh and mend me back together like stained glass. Just allow me to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“It’s a lot of time for an immortal man.” Choked by his longing, Mydeimos let you guide his hand away from the stain on your dress. Higher and higher until the flowing fabric stopped covering your skin, until his fingertips slid along the smooth slope of your chest, until he felt your erratic heartbeat under the palm of his hand.

“I will preserve you in my heart even in death.” You sealed this vow with a squeeze of your hand over his, the sensation of your chest rising under his palm almost sending him over the edge.

Lost in a haze, Mydeimos repeated a question that bothered him more than his own cowardice ever did, “So were there others, or not?”

You laughed then, the bells of heavenly realms rang in his ears. Your lips were soft against his, a merciful blessing which could never be deserved by those who could not worship you like a god. Your skin was cold under his touch, and you kept pressing yourself impossibly close to him. Until all his heat was yours to busk in, until all the flame was stolen from Mydei’s body, until there was no air left in his lungs to continue breathing, until he wished for nothing more than to give up immortality to you, so no longer your shoulders trembled under the weight of time and memories.

He couldn’t. Not then, not now, not in the future you refused to foresee. So he clumsily kissed you harder, until you were the one to pull away to remind him that immortality did not take away the pain of death. Your head on his chest, your dress hanging loosely around your waist, his lips stained with the crimson of your lipstick, his hesitant hands finding courage to wander places far too inappropriate without your guidance to direct them.

You watched him as if you knew him long before he met you, and maybe you did. Maybe you saw Mydei is the hazy crystals of memories before putting one in his palm for safekeeping; or heard him in a midnight song chanted by Oronyx, a grateful gift for your insistent refusal to abuse the power given to you.

Mydei would never know, you set off for Aedes Elysiae the next morning. He saw you off to the gates of Castrum Kremnos, as far away from the prying eyes of his people as he possibly could without stepping foot out of the City. You kissed him goodbye, a painful sort of yearning in your dark eyes as you promised to return.

“[Name].” Your name tasted divine on his tongue, far sweeter than any pomegranate juice Mydeimos had ever tasted. “I am not a coward. I want to court you officially.” A lie, one you chose to ignore in favor of whatever he wished to say next. “So next time we see each other, whatever you wish for, it’s yours–”

“I just want you, Mydei.” You cut him off urgently, a bashful sort of feeling crossing your gaze. “I am a very insecure, jealous woman.” Mesmerized and in love, he once again thought you were foolish for thinking that he would even entertain the idea of looking at another.

“You are still yet to answer me, too.” He pressed then; full of delusional yearning and badly concealed desire, Mydeimos disregarded your indirect warning, “Were there others?”

You never answered the question. Never ever brought it up again and Mydeimos would never find out if there were indeed someone who dared to approach you with a thoughtlessness of a careless brute. Not that any of your past lovers mattered to him now that he vowed to never let you go. He was better, he was stronger, he was nothing like his father. You and your heavenly songs crafted by the most benevolent of deities; you and the glow of your midnight chill as he dared to steal a glance, you and your frail, stained-glass heart flattering so erratically in your chest; all of you that ever was and ever would be, was safe with him for the rest of his eternal life.

One lingering hug goodbye, he snuck the coins you returned to him back into your basket. You set off for home, leaving him nothing but a haunting phantom or your body under his fingertips and the feverish dreams that woke him up at night, all hot and restless. Gorgo found his misery amusing, watching her only son with the careful eye of a predator whose kin was about to throw himself off a cliff into the ocean’s most raging waters.

At first, she watched him pace around the castle like a caged lion on a brink of snapping and pouncing on the first person to graze him the wrong way. And later, stone-faced and distant as always, he spent most of his free time locked in the library. Thinned, the frail walls spoke timidly of his endeavors. Infatuated, the maids whispered between themselves of a gift that would take not only her breath away but even melt the heart of her distant husband were he see her wearing it. Troubled, the old blacksmith recounted a tale of Mydei’s new grand undertaking; the shards of a shattered sword – the one Gorgo dismantled herself all those years ago – laid out in front of him on his work bench, clean of Mydei’s blood and polished to perfection. Moronic, her only son diverted his gaze, pretending to have no knowledge of the whereabouts of the broken weapon that killed him once before.

“How would I know?” Brash, hasty reply, paired with the impatient tapping of his foot gave away the turmoil he was trying to conceal. His mother’s son, Mydeimos was an awful liar. A picture-perfect definition of a bleeding heart pinned onto the red fabric of his sleeve; hers painted crimson her white clothing a long time ago, his was yet to be noticed, stains hidden in plain sight amongst the fabrics of his garments. “You must’ve misplaced it, mother.”

“May be so…” She muttered, stretching her words sluggishly. “No clue how it ended up a goldsmith of all places?”

“Maybe father is going mad.” A prideful huff and a cold shoulder, Mydeimos slowly sagged onto the sofa. Tired of arguing and insecure in his intentions, he cautiously glanced at his mother. “Do you think she’d like it?”

“How would I know? I am not her.” Her sarcastic response made him flinch away from her almost unnoticeably, yet it was still harsh enough for Gorgo to regret her decision the second her son’s antsy feet started tapping again. “It is beautiful. In my opinion, of course.” Indeed breathtaking, albeit perplexing, his complicated choice of jewelry forced everyone into a perpetual state of confusion. “What is that, anyway? Necklaces, bracelets? Your mad ideas left that craft shop in ruins.”

“Earrings.” He admitted after a long, silent moment.

“Of course. Earrings.” Gorgo sighed then, heavy yet somehow not surprised in the slightest. There was something off about you that day. The way your voice gripped her frigid son’s undivided attention with such ease which any noble lady would envy for the rest of their lives. It should have been expected that you would steal his heart as well. “So Castrum Kremnos ladies weren’t up to your standards? Planning on eloping with a first pretty foreigner you set your sights on?”

“Not eloping.” Oddly resolute, Mydeimos looked at her as if she was a moron for thinking he would run away. And maybe she was, at least in that moment, an utter fool believing her son had it in him to not make an honest woman out of you. “I will marry her one day. Here. Officially.”

“You’ve grown, Mydeimos.” Gorgo said then, after a second of tense silence which did a terrible job at helping her process his words to their fullest. “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I do.” Hesitant but no longer a coward, for the first time in her life Gorgo watched her son own up to his deeds. “She understands me like no other.”

A broad concept, tainted by the rose hue of naïve youth, Gorgo tried to make sense of his words once more. “That girl, is she…” A muffled gasp, she covered her mouth before the walls could hear of her revelation and get you in a kind of danger which even an immortal man could not shield you from. Neither confirming nor denying her guess, Mydei gave away his answer with the feigned ignorance crossing his stone-cold face. “At least she will live long enough to make a man out of you.”

“I am a man, mother.” Not man enough, Gorgo thought, if that catty hiss of his was anything to judge by. Yet she argued not, simply headed towards the exit, Mydeimos hot on her heels, proving once more than he was a long way from a man he claimed to be. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” Gorgo smiled cryptically, passing Mydei by when he stopped near the doors to his chambers. “Aren’t you coming with? Or will you leave her waiting for you?” This sent him tumbling, a satisfied chuckle blooming in her chest at the image of her usually composed son not knowing what to do with himself for once.

Mydeimos was well aware that she saw you the next day, the gold jewelry decorating your ears as you kept touching it any chance you could. Her only foolish son, he looked at you as if you hung up the stars in the midnight sky, a gentle guidance of his hand on your back as he led you out of the city to someplace more peaceful. Gorgo never followed you to the meadow, just returned to the castle. A lone candle on her vanity, for the first time in a long time she prayed to whoever would listen to preserve this happiness of his for as long as possible.

Receiving no answer, Gorgo went to sleep, cold empty bed as her only companion for the night. The next morning at the breakfast table Mydei gave her a crystal; a clear pale yellowish-orange gem, glowing dimly from within its own polished surface. He never acknowledged the gift, yet with misty, faraway look in his eyes, Mydeimos simply stated that he would formally introduce you tomorrow as his future bride. All he received was a curt nod and a stern glance. Everyone left the table as disenchanted as they were when the dishes were still hot. Yet Mydeimos was still his mother’s prideful son, he never let anything stand in his way when it truly scarred his heart.

The gemstone you gifted her with was as warm as the sun itself. That night Gorgo dreamt of the past she could never dare return to and the future that brought her mortal body to ruin and assembled it back limb by limb with the golden ichor of heavens. You both were destined for suffering, in life and in death there was no escape from the black tide which consumed all creation. She embraced you like her own then; engulfed in the midnight chill of your touch, she once again prayed to whoever was merciful to not let your fates define you. Nobody listened to her fervent prayers, only her husband’s scheming eye followed your shadows as Mydeimos led you to his private chambers.

Mydeimos too, prayed that the walls would not talk for once. Not when you admitted, something bitter tainting your tone, that you understood the king would never accept your humble upbringings. Delusional and devout, on his knees before you, the prince promised that the word of his father meant as little to him as the word of the crowd. Dutiful and disheartened, you offered him a way out; a quiet promise of saving his honor by returning to Aedes Elysiae and never coming back. Frightened and frantic, his careless hands chased the solace of your embrace as his mouth spewed nonsense; delirious refusals to let go of your presence dripping from his mouth akin to blood from an open wound.

A golden tear dropped onto his cheek as he tugged your body close to his until your fragile form cracked under his finger, falling apart into a myriad of colorful pieces for him to gather for the rest of his life. Your cold lips over his, crimson paint smudged all over until it morphed into maroon blooming all over your body like a loom of fate, forever binding the two of you together long after this world existed in nothing but echoes.

A breathless gasp, this moment would remain forever embedded into the deepest crevices of his undying heart. The embarrassment and the longing, the hesitation and the hunger, the eagerness and the devotion, all melted into memories he would split apart and inlay upon his chest to proudly carry for rest of his everlasting existence. The greed with which he craved the very last bit of your mind, soul and body was overwhelming, yet he still leaned down for more.

The feverish flush running though his overheating body as he sunk his teeth onto the slowly warming skin of your neck, the arch of your back as you pressed your hips close to his in the only flamechase you would ever accept. He rearranged the stained glass of your flesh under his touch, pouring the liquid gold into the cracks of your shattered body and even with his hands stained with your divine essence, he still yeaned for more.

Come unwelcomed morning, you announced with sleep still lingering in your eyes and the aftertaste of him on your tongue, that you would still have to return to Aedes Elysiae. Your friends waited for you back home and you simply could not vanish from the face of the earth without a warning. Apprehensive about the schemes of time, Mydei wiped the remnants of sleep from his face and made you promise to return. Forget his pride and forgo his honor, your heart was worth the disgrace his despicable father would drop upon his rebellious son.

You left when the last day of summer fell onto the yellowing meadows. To seal your promise, you asked him to get you some cherry wine, the kind which could only be imported from Okhema’s vendors. Mydei agreed, asking for nothing in return. You smiled with sorrow tugging onto your heavy lashes, yet when you kissed him goodbye with the fervency that left him weak and tumbling, your resolve seemed unshakable. Then you departed, no basket and no harp, you left it all to him as a vow of your sincere devotion.

Mydei stood at the edge of the City for hours, until dusk settled and Gorgo found him to drag him back to the castle. Five days later he received a letter from you, a little red gem with a memory that served nothing but a tool to keep him up at night with the unabashed thoughts of you. Eight days later his father called him in; disinterested and distant, on his throne of unreachable glory, Eurypon announced Mydei’s unnegotiable betrothal to a lady of a house Mydeimos cared not to remember the name of.

Eight days later, for the first time in his life Mydeimos fought his father. Eight days later, for the first time in her life Gorgo had to save her son from his own kin. Eight days later, it would not be the last time. Eight summers in passing, it would finally be the last.

She – the daughter of a lord respected throughout the nation for his bravery and might – remained nameless even after introducing herself. He, bitterly and pettily, erased the word from his memory, a careful distance put between him and her body as she desperately tried to engage the prince into a pointless conversation. A fearsome warrior, a gentle soul, a connoisseur of fine arts; she chattered away mindlessly, fruitless efforts all wasted onto a man far too detached from the moment, caught up in the thought of another.

His mother, one worried look and one fleeting apology cast his way, insisted that he informed you before he could make matters worse by delaying the inevitable. She did not offer any comfort, nor did she drop promises of finding a way to help him. As if resigning it all to fate, Gorgo watched him and his companion tirelessly, an unwilling chaperone to Mydei’s self-admitted betrayal.

You returned when the second month of autumn stole all the leaves from the trees surrounding the meadow. Your favorite white dress still slid off your shoulder when you moved your arms, the sign of his devotion on your person trembled, raining ruby and sapphire every time your fingers grazed the strings. The lyre in your hands cried sorrowful tunes as you accompanied it with the equally melancholic words. The crowd whispered when they noticed them; some of those who saw you together before muttered hushed woeful murmurs of his misfortune, others pitied lady Eirene for falling into the cruel hands of someone like him. Those who knew nothing of Mydei’s misery, called her his future queen, brazen disrespect to your person which he would never forgive even when the black tide swallowed Castrum Kremnos whole.

You, blessed by time and haunted by memories, cared not of your audience’s turmoil. Mystifying smile on your lips, you offered the future bride of the crown prince a song worth her eloquent status. Frown deepened into a scowl, Mydeimos watched as you recalled Eirene’s life with the poetic justice given to all her endeavors. A thinly veiled threat of in-depth knowledge of her life hanging above her head was left unnoticed by the future princess, far too delighted about recognition to look deeper into your words that sang her praises. Deeply insecure and jealous woman you were indeed, a petty one at that, yet you still returned to him despite knowing of the fate that awaited you should you come back to him.

Choked by your devotion, drowned by his own love, Mydeimos felt far too undeserving of such adoration. You fretted about dishonoring him yet here he was, disgracing you against his will yet unable to let go of you even under the weight of guilt pushing him under the waters of judgement.

“I have one more song before I retire for the night.” You announced proudly, as your unblinking eyes bore into Eirene’s unaware form, “I hope you don’t mind a new spin on the timeless classic, Lady Eirene.”

Scorned and vengeful, you abandoned the thinly veiled warnings and spoke your truth amidst the setting sun of Castrum Kremnos. Under the watchful eye of his own mother, with the crowd of onlookers surrounding you, with his own guilt-ridden gaze glued to you as if forever stitched to your body by a red thread of fate. Eirene took a guarded step back from him, mouth solemnly pressed into a thin line of disdain. You brought her to angry tears that evening; all resentful and bitter, you left with your head held high and him chasing after you before he could even think of letting you slip from his grasp.

“I am ashamed of humiliating her.” You admitted willingly amidst the blankets of his bed, hands pressed tightly to your chest as if not to touch him on accident. “I sullied your honor. I apologize.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” He pried them open then, sneaking selfishly into your embrace, all but ready to slide onto the marble floors with his forehead pressed against your navel in a silent apology. “Shouldn’t I be the one to get on my knees and repent? To beg for forgiveness till my throat is sore?”

“You had no say in this.” You turned to face him, your knee pressed into the mattress. Your hesitant hand running though his hair, you scratched the back of his neck with your nails, as if to relieve Mydei of responsibility he placed upon himself, “It would be foolish to be mad at something you cannot control.”

“Would they look for me, should we run away, you and I?” Desperate and in love, he fruitlessly searched for a way that would keep you this close to him forever. At any other moment you would have laughed at his useless efforts, offering a sensible way out. Not this time, however. Today you cradled him close to your body, your silent presence syphoning all his crazed ponderings with no interruption. “Would Aedes Elysiae accept a runaway prince? Maybe Okhema? Janusopolis? Styxia? The end of Amphoreus where the earth meets the skies?”

“Or we can stay here.” You said when Mydei lost the battle with his breath, “Take her as your bride, give her your name, just let me have your heart.”

“And give you up?” Taken aback by such a humiliating position you were ready to lock yourself in so willingly, Mydeimos shrunk away from you for a sliver of a second. Just to look you in the eyes, your steadfast resolve burning brighter than any Coreflame. “To reduce you to what, a mere concubine? To tarnish your name and defile your dignity? What kind of man would that make me? I would battle fate for you with my bare hands. There is a whole of eternity at my disposal, there is something–”

Shaky finger placed upon his lips, you silenced him with one swift movement, “Have you considered that I would willingly give up that good name of mine for a chance of staying by your side?”

“You offer me something I could never repay you for.” He should be a better man, to find a solution that would not leave you in a frame of the other woman. Yet how hard it was to argue with you when you looked at him with such devotion, the knowing glow of your eyes conveying all that your words were incapable of.

“Just love me.” You pressed. “Now and forever.”

“I do. I will.” Now and till the sun ran out of fuel, Mydei was sure he was yours even if a miracle let death embrace him at last. “I–”

A slam of a door, the stern face of his mother loomed over the two of you as you hastily tried to separate yourself from him to save some sort of decency. “If you two plan on running away, I expect you to support her for the rest of your lives. Be a man, Mydeimos, own up to your promises.” One heated argument later, one broken vase and a shattered mirror after, one harsh slap to his face delivered for your sake in passing, Gorgo sank onto the bed next to you. “A concubine…” She laughed bitterly. “Never thought the day would come for me to hear that word from your mouth, son.”

“I love her.” He stated plainly, no stone on his face to hide behind and no amateur lies to conceal his true feelings by.

“I know.” Gorgo nodded dejectedly, “She does too, if she’s willing to become the other woman.”

“She’s not the other woman.” The force with which he delivered that line bewildered even Mydeimos himself. Wide-eyed and oddly proud, for the first and the last time in her life Gorgo allowed her son to yell at her so shamelessly. “There is no other woman. The princess shall get nothing but my name. No touch of my hand, no warmth of my gaze, no love of my heart, no children of my blood. Not a piece of me would ever be hers to hold. So don’t you dare disrespect [Name] by calling her the other woman. She is the only woman, mother.”

Once again resigning it all to chance, she allowed the two of you to spell your own fate with the golden and crimson ink. His father was not pleased with such an arrogant decision coming from his prideful, stubborn son. Yet he never argued; cursing you with a single look of disdain, the one Mydeimos would learn to shield you from later on, the king dismissed you. The wedding was rushed. Winter was cruel that year and the wedding night was spent wiping the tears off of your face, as you wept for a moment that would never be yours.

Colder than usual, you tried to futilely warm yourself in his embrace, hasty hands rushing to rid him of his clothes. Regretful and yearning, Mydei cut himself onto the sharp edges of your shattered flesh, tugging you closer to his own body until all distance melted away entirely. And as you sank onto him, a choked sob falling wantonly from your open mouth, the stained glass continued to fall apart. The quickly fading imprint of your despair on his shoulders, your feverish cries as you desperately begged him to only love you, all of it would forever remain as one of his most shameful memories.

Mydei never noticed how your teeth pierced his skin, warmth spilling all over his body as be brought you closer in for a kiss. His blood on your lips, the taste of him on your tongue, he unwittingly vowed to die with you. And in a way he did.

You fell into a restless slumber in his arms. A whispered promise of giving him all of yourself while having all but nothing, you left him forever aware of the life he could have had were he not a prince but a nobody. Victory he never strived for, glory he never yearned for, responsibility he was never cut out for; riches and status all long lost their shine. Mydeimos, too, pledged to himself that night to give you everything of his and then some, the abundance of excess until you could not stand his overbearing longing any longer.

A year in, you laughed at him when he stiffly admitted it, saying that even in death he would never be too much. Relieved of a burden he never knew he carried on his shoulders, Mydeimos relaxed under your touch, a then-humiliating confession falling from his mouth. Adoration pooling in your eyes, it overflowed and dripped down your face as you made fun of his hesitant ways. Cautious but never a coward, Mydeimos felt the most alive when you kissed him. Your eager agreement meant another battle won not only for the honor of your love, but against the judgement of his father. Elation never lasted long, as two years in when the meadow met the spring at last, you once again wept in his arms, Gorgo’s mourning eyes watching you with sorrow.

You were barren. Or maybe it was Mydeimos who was defective, a failure of a man who could neither give you his name nor his child. Gorgo, one steady hand on your shaking shoulder, promised to find a solution. You looked at her as if you already knew there was none. He made you cry more than he brought a smile to your face, a shameful fact Mydeimos had to accept bitterly. Yet you willingly continued choosing tears just to hold his bleeding heart in your trembling hands, cradling it close to yourself and staining your pristine white gowns with crimson.

You hit him then, when he dared to bring it up; and as weak as you were, he felt nothing upon impact, yet you almost broke your arm against the golden plates of his armor. You called him a fool, told him that loving him was worth the occasional pain coursing rarely through the memory of you and him. He loved you too much to let you go, you loved him too much to even think of walking away. There was no solution to your hardships, yet the life you chose to lead together evened out with each day spent striding side by side with each other.

No more guilt and no more shame, it seemed as if the deities finally smiled upon you with grace. You still sang at the town’s square, crowd far too large as they listened to your heavenly tales all dedicated to his name. A casual letter or two from your childhood home, sometimes sadness would crease in between your eyebrows, yet you never let it define you, throwing the parchment into the fire as soon as you were done reading. With the tension in the City rising, your collection of crystals grew, the heavy air of the palace thinning under the influence of your work. One for you and one for him to ease his ever-growing responsibilities; one for Gorgo to relieve her nightly terrors; one for the princess haunting the shadows of the castle like a restless ghost; one for the displeased king, slowly growing mad under the veil of darkness calling for him.

Years passed, yet even if Mydeimos learned to lift his heavy head even with a crown placed upon it, with his father’s unstable condition he had to accept that one of these days he would inevitably become king. Yet a king with no heir was akin to an impostor stealing the throne; the Council of Elders threw him dirty looks, half threats of disposing of him that they could never back up with action reached his ears through the thin walls of the palace.

It was you he was worried about; never out of his sight for more than a second, he trusted all but nobody when it came to your safety. Gorgo called him foolish once more, whisking you away for a day out. You let her, saying he needed a break, a pale gem placed carefully upon his opened palm.

It must have been the day you decided to put it all on the line for him once again. Well rested and oddly clear-minded, with all duties done for the night and no loose ends left to tie, Mydeimos welcomed you back home. You sat him down on your shared bed, removed all his armor and unbraided his hair, then climbed onto his lap, latching yourself onto him desperately.

“You are exhausted.” You were on the verge of tears when you planted a fleeting kiss to his shoulder. “I never wish to be a liability to you, Mydeimos.”

“You aren’t.” He denied the accusation, yet it was hard to argue with the way his body all but sagged under your touch, tension leaving his muscles as you tenderly worked on the throbbing knots in his back. “Never was and never will be. Your love is not a burden.”

“Blessed by your love I may be, yet I still failed as a woman.” A foolish statement, the one which made no sense in his eyes. All those years spent by his side, Mydei still found it hard to believe you defined your worth not by the love that seeped from your broken body like golden ichor, but by the things which you could offer him. You could give him nothing and he would still bring this world to ruin for your sake. You could take away his everything and he would still search for you in the shadows of the shattered night. You could tell him to surrender himself to your will, and he would lay himself down upon the freezing marbles of the castle just so you could walk all over him. You could, but you didn’t. Instead, you bent your back and bowed to him once more, “Bed the princess. Allow her to give you an heir.”

“Can you hear yourself, [Name]?” Wide-eyed and trembling, for the first time in his life Mydeimos felt fear. The black tide must have grazed you too, snuck past the protection Oronyx placed upon you and latched itself onto your supple flesh till the last drop of blood left your body. “To disgrace you even further?” Yet when he looked at you, unshakable in your decision, you seemed as sound as ever. “It’s me who’s failing. Both as a man and as a husband, if you think I would ever look at another woman with a sliver of desire.”

“I never once doubted your loyalty, Mydeimos.” You said this as if your fate had already been sealed a long time ago. As if he already marred himself with the touch of another for a possibility of a peaceful future that could befall you if he were to give up his morals in favor of an easy way out. And maybe so it was; the warmth of your tears running down his back, he once more thought of the things you discarded for his sake. “But I love you and you’re collapsing. Your ache is my agony. Your suffering is my anguish. I cannot let you decay under the weight of this black tide any longer.”

An easy way out was not easy in the slightest. But it was the only way, was it not? To find out what kind of man he truly was, to decide if he was fully worth the trust you placed in him by bowing to the title of the other woman. Eirene looked oddly terrified when you announced it with a graceful detachment of someone who cared too much. And despite her initial excitement about the idea of becoming a princess, she agreed reluctantly, all but ready to throw you out of the door.

He met her under the flickering light of yellowish candles. As if not present in the moment, disassociated and floating, Mydeimos dropped his head onto the silk pillows, a heavy hand pushing her away as she tried to kiss him. Learning her lesson, Eirene let him drift along the river of parting, her steady hand undressing both of them hastily. Tense and stiff, he let her do all the work yet even the image of you in his mind could never replace the burning touch of her hands. Embarrassingly, it took too much time to even begin and even more to finish. Candles all burned out, unsatisfied and filthy, he put his clothes on in a hurry that could rival even the future bearer of Zagreus’ Coreflame.

“Never thought you’d be that awful in bed, prince.” Still naked, with nothing but a bedsheet covering her body, Eirene watched him with some sort of pity that could never quite reach him, neither did her bitter words do anything to cut him.

“You don’t exactly entice me, no offense.” Mydei deadpanned, clasping the last of his armor back in its rightful place.

“I get it, I’m not your type.” A huff, a dismissive wave of her hand. Those seven years changed her; nothing left of a woman that so eagerly clung to him, Eirene seemed far more tolerable now that she despised him so. “The walls say she’s barren, is that true?”

Defensive and guarded, Mydei glared at her from under his heavy lashes. A clear warning that Eirene ignored even after he spelled it out for her so graciously, “You should worry about my ability to conceive more than my heart’s fragile health.”

“I am your wife.” She lifted herself up, cradling the bedsheet close to her body. Something oddly offended in her gaze made Mydei almost furious, an uncontrollable kind of anger he had to sooth with the thought of finally obtaining his peace with you. It still lingered, and she still prodded. Like a hot rod into the tender flesh wound, Eirene dug and dug, searching for the spot that would finally send him tumbling over the edge of reason. “Not that I wish to be. But can’t I be curious about the concubine you took before even marrying me?”

“You are not my wife, you are a princess.” It felt appropriate to set boundaries, to let her know where she stood in his life. The title was nothing but a bunch of words on a piece of paper, yet his heart in your hands would outlive the collapse of the old world and the ruin of the new realms. “I care not what you do. Your freedom is at your disposal. Just give them this child so she won’t cry any longer.”

“And here I thought you were a heartless brute.” Eirene sighed, a little defeated although somewhat amused. Something akin to regret pooled in her eyes when she looked at him, but Mydei just wished she would stop prodding. “You should have told me your soul was taken; I wouldn’t have been so excited about a prospect of a happy marriage.”

“I should have.” He resigned, knowing full well she was right. “I’m sorry.”

“No offense taken.” She said, falling back onto the mattress. Then corrected herself almost instantly, “Well, a little offense taken.” Mydei couldn’t blame her. Young and delusional, he was a moron. Older and far more mature, he still would go through all of this again just for a chance to steal a glance at you. Eirene curled onto herself, her golden hair draped around her like a halo, “Do you think we could have been friends then, she and I?”

The snap of the door was the only answer she received but it was enough for Eirene to understand. Mydeimos set off for Styxia the second he left her chambers. Fully undressed and repenting, he took a bath in the River of Souls until his flesh melted right to the bone and the pain forced his vision into complete darkness. Reborn anew, clean of his sin, he laid on the pearly shores until Gorgo found him to drag his aching body back to Castrum Kremnos. Three months later Eirene announced that their endeavor bore fruit. Three months later, his deteriorating father looked at him with approval for the first time since Mydeimos’ first ever death on the battlefield. Three months later you and Gorgo shared a look of guilt, the sweet cherry wine in your goblets tasting far too bitter that evening alone.

Seven months later Eirene died during early childbirth. The child died with his mother, bearing no resemblance to Mydeimos but all to the mourning guard he never asked the name of. Against the sound call of his consciousness, he proposed to you on the day of her funeral, unable to wait a day longer than those harsh seven years he had to endure.

You admitted then, shameful and timid, that a couple of moons ago you found out about Eirene’s affair with one of the guards she brought with her to the castle from her family’s estate. It was a lucky decision made on your and Gorgo’s part all those months back; the one that would save Eirene from disgrace and placate the Council so his weary soul could finally rest in peace with no weight of your lacking body dragging him down. He called you foolish, yet reached for you all the same, despite the lingering doubt of his skin still bearing the stain of his infidelity. Hesitantly leaning down on your knees before him, you asked for forgiveness until your words turned into frantic begging, strangled gasps dripping from your parted lips.

Adorned with gold, ruby and sapphire, your wedding was worth the years wasted in waiting. Gorgo cried when she saw you amidst the blooming meadow, a single tear that she concealed perfectly with one swipe of her hand. Under the looming air of the approaching black tide, the Castrum Kremnos heaved a sigh of relief, their unfortunate prince finally tasting true victory with your hand held hostage in his tight grasp.

Mydeimos thought he knew death. His body ached and fell apart, mending itself together tirelessly all his life. Twenty-eight and far more mature than a young man he used to be before he met you, Mydeimos finally learned the true pain of parting. It’s cruel. A goblet dropped from his hand in favor of holding you steady in his embrace; the cherry wine decorated the white of your wedding dress akin to blood seeping from your shaky lips. It spilt carelessly all over the marble tiles of the master bedroom, soaking into the expensive rug Gorgo liked so much. Yet what those riches were worth when you were dying in his arms?

By his own hand, which poured the wine into your goblet. By his own will, which brought the goblet to your mouth. By his own selfishness, which thoughtlessly elated, never questioned the grudges others might have held against you. In these trying times a Chrysos Heir always had a target on their back; in these trying times a grieving lover cared not to take mercy on a woman if it brought misery to a man who doomed his heart.

Under the glow of spring, killing that man did not bring you back. As cold as night itself, your body was inlayed in the dark ice by the will of those whose presence Mydeimos would never truly comprehend. Three days later his senile father tried to kill him too, Gorgo’s grieving eyes barely noticing the spear to save her only son once more. That same day she sent Mydeimos away.

Not knowing where to go, he set off for Aedes Elysiae to return your body home. As if expecting him, somber yet mysterious, a pink haired girl was waiting for him at the gates to the City. Introducing herself as Cyrene, she told him then that you foretold your fate long before you even met him, and should he blame himself for your unfortunate demise, your spirit would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Mydei scoffed at her words and never argued. The next day the ice was gone as if all but an illusion and they buried you amidst the yellow fields, Kephale seeing you off to the other side of the river. The white-haired man who joined your burial rite appeared sickly, he never gave his name and Mydeimos never cared to ask. One look at him, Cyrene told him to behave civilly. The nameless man disregarded her warning, only stating that should he die sooner rather than later she must bury him next to you, then departed with no farewell thrown their way.

Cyrene apologized, yet Mydei cared not. If there were past lovers before him in your life, this white-haired man was not one of them, but he surely yearned to be. Mydeimos never listened to her advice, never forgiving himself even after the sun burned out, and your shadow followed his every step. Despite extending him an invitation to stay forever in the city, to live out the rest of his eternal life in a little house with stained glass windows that you shared with your friends, Mydei returned to Castrum Kremnos.

He found his mother’s body at the dining table, cold and far too reminiscent of the way you sluggishly fell into his arms after the first sip of the poison spread through your system. The cherry wine in her goblet mocked Mydei with his own reflection staring back at him. That day, he fought his father for the second time. That day, his kin’s blood painted the walls of the throne room until it soaked into the deepest crevices of Mydei’s broken body. That day, he left his home to never come back there for the next two thousand years.

Okhema was uninviting and foreign. The dull ache of longing never went away even after his reluctant agreement to join the flamechase, the ghost of you looming over his shoulder with your words never truly forgotten even a hundred years after your passing.

He met you again as the coming of spring marked two hundred years since your departure. Knowing nothing of his person, you ran your fingers over the strings, retelling the tale of a disgraced prince who was destined to lose all but hope. Mydeimos dropped his coin pouch into your basket once again, you hunted him down to return it and despite his better judgment he repeated it all again even when the outcome remained unchanging. You died all the same and he searched for you every time, high and low, until you were back into his arms.

Sometimes you were nowhere to be found, lost in embrace of another and Mydei would learn to accept that all those tears you spilled because of him came at a hefty price. Sometimes you rejected him, timidly stating your heart belonged to a friend back home. Ridden with jealousy yet unable to fight your nature, Mydeimos gave your hand up to whichever one of them you loved. Cyrene or the nameless, white-haired man mattered not, it all left him miserable at the end. Yet between rejection and your blood slipping through his fingers as you kissed him for the last time, Mydei finally found out which one’s love you engraved into a gem of the everlasting existence.

The nameless, white-haired man that Mydeimos would learn to call a reluctant brother in arms. The clueless, white-haired man that he would learn to accept as a part of your life that could never be replaced. The shameless, white-haired man who would later introduce himself as Phainon – a name which did not belong to him nor was the one Cyrene called him all those years back – and Mydeimos would pretend to believe him. The hopeless, white-haired man who would get you killed for the last time, despite all his earnest promises to never let any harm befall you.

Ridden with guilt and caught up in the memory of you, Phainon would bring Amphoreus to ruin for the final time, covering the world with a black tide which swallowed even those who were claimed by immortality. The flame would be reaved and all that remained would be three clear, glowing gemstones placed carefully upon the altar in a quiet, dark room of the Astral Express. The final preserver of your everlasting stained-glass Elysium, Alisa would cry for your fate. Tears staining her face, she would then grant you departure, locked in a prayer that maybe one day you and him would find peace not in memory but in life.

The stained glass shattered. Having no gold on his person, Sunday gave up his rosary to mend the cracks.

This unwavering devotion to your love was far too resolute to remain but a broken piece of glass.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #mydei x reader

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