#mydei angst

[sleepynoons]

Under the Same Sky

Mydeimos and you are husband and wife. In ancient China, where the heavens and earth exist in the same dimension, your husband slays beasts and demons to protect the Emperor and the Holy Nation. You yourself are closely related to divinity, though it is a relationship you wish to abandon, because the heavenly forces have only wished the worst upon you. And it seems nothing has changed, when the divine wants to destroy your and Mydei's relationship.

mydei x afab!f!reader, chinese mythology!au, nsfw

word count: ~17,400

cw: angst/slight comfort, minor character death, religious/spiritual imagery/themes/depictions, graphic descriptions of violence/blood/death, unprotected sex, marking kink, a singular instance of a blood kink, undertones of codependency, unintended phainon slander (truly just for the plot)

notes: to my beloved beta, @staraxiaa, i love you. truly. you have such a beautiful mind and an unmatched cadence to your words. thank you for all that you do for me, and this piece would not have come out of the vault without your encouragement and advice.

to readers, would soo appreciate reblogs, comments, and tags on this piece! i always put a bit of my soul in my writing, but truly, as a chinese person myself, this fic is especially special in my heart. i may post an author's note (update: you can find my thoughts here), but for now, i hope you are able to walk away from this piece knowing a bit about my heritage, culture, and mythology, though there may be several historical inaccuracies LOL

EVERYONE IN the village knows Mydeimos loves you and you love Mydeimos. In particular, the elders, those who often sit under the weeping willows at noon and fan themselves with their cheap linen imitations of the gongshan, laugh amongst themselves about the blush that had blossomed on Mydeimos’ face with your first appearance and has never left since, until the faint outlines of their grandchildren appear on the border between the horizon and the flat earth. Because who could believe that their village chief, a figure of authority and demand – though a son he will forever be remembered as in the villagers’ eyes and memories  – would ever look so pathetically adorable. But at this point, it is not a question anymore, moreso a teasing remark the people make in the presence of their adored chief.

And you, a girl of an unknown origin, from another collective li and li away, have also become a beloved member of this village. Even if you were not Mydeimos’ wife, your kindly manner, speaking always with a warming wisp of a smile, and the gentle curve of your upturned palm have won over the hearts of the villagers here.

It is clear to everyone that, by the decree of the heavenly gods above and their kindred spirits down on this earth in the forms of the water, leaves, wind, and destiny, that you and Mydeimos are for each other, to always be intertwined and inseparable in this vast, vast universe.

–

My love.

Mydei – just Mydei in your presence – twitches in his sleep, the magnetic pull of your voice coming from somewhere between the depths of his half-conscious, sleepy haze and the echoes from the four sun-stricken brick walls of your shared bedroom. You tantalize him already, when he has so much to do, so much to worry, so much to protect. After all, being one of the Emperor’s generals is no casual title, and one can tell because all he can boast about is the long hours of never-ending work and the deplorably large number of men he had to send to the infirmary the other day for they all lacked strength comparable to his. Indeed, he has much to be concerned about, yet in the spare moments of tranquility he is granted in the early morning, he allows himself to bask in both the warmth from the dawn sunlight that streams through the bamboo folding screens and radiates from your lulling tone.

Mydei.

He blinks awake, your silhouette discerned with more clarity with each closing and opening. You are holding the blanket up to your chest with one arm, while your other reaches over to stroke his hair, straightening out strands that have splayed themselves across his forehead, intermingling with the lengths of his eyelashes and paralleling the cut of his jawline.

You will be late.

Displeased at your reminder, he grunts and leans into your palm, the shape of it meant to caress and cradle his cheek. You do not make any noticeable reaction, except for the slight lifts at the corners of your lips. And you let him assume control of your hand, relinquish your time as well, so that you can connect with him before he sets off for another long day at work. Though work is never just work for someone as noble as Mydei, as even the trek to the Palace is fraught with danger, where assassins and mercenaries can be prowling in the shadows, waiting for the right timing to strike, attack, kill your lover, the chief of a village a slight ways away from the Capital, a general to the Emperor and this Holy Nation. 

Mydei then cups one of his hands over yours, and sits up with your fingers interlaced. With a quick glance, he is sated and actually smirks at the marks that bruise, bloom, and flourish across the delicate skin of your shoulders and neck. He leans over to kiss a spot that is undoubtedly the most stubborn of them all, the last that will fade from remembrance. 

I know. I am on my way now.

And, without another word, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up to stride over to the washroom. You watch from your position, eyes lingering over the hardened and muscled build of his legs, the jagged scars that etch themselves into the broad scope of his back and sides, and the tanned lines that have begun to form on his arms, a sign that the height of spring has arrived. You wait until he has left the room to release a pleased hum before you, too, stretch and prepare yourself for your day.

In the courtyard, it is more than obvious that spring has fully encompassed the Holy Nation. The magnolia buds are green, hurried and eager in their pursuit for growth, and the scent of damp soil has begun to dissipate from the lack of overnight snow and frost. A young female servant, a recent addition to your handful of helpers, speaks in rapid, excited breaths as she serves you powdered cakes in bite-sized pieces and pours oolong tea into a brown porcelain cup, reciting news about the Emperor’s several princes she had overheard when she went to the market earlier today. You cannot help but chuckle as the servant takes a seat beside you, her arms propped up on the table with her face resting on her fist, humming as any young girl in love would. It just so happens that your head maid comes over at this moment and scolds the younger one.

Get up! Where are your manners? Apologize!

You simply wave them both off and ask the young servant to continue her relay. After all, she is not of age yet, so she can only daydream, and who are you to not indulge in such whimsies. She tells you of the second youngest prince, one of three in her generation, and she fantasizes of colliding into him in the streets as he makes an escape from the Capital. It is no surprise that the prince, along with all nine of his royal brothers, are mischievous, something that many Daoist priestesses have foretold as they ventured in and out of the Palace, prophecies that trace back even before the births of many of the Emperor’s sons. Yet the young servant’s fantasies are far too exaggerated and dependent on coincidence to ever materialize, so after a while, you begin to ask her other questions.

How are this season’s harvests? Are there murmurings of strife and conflict along the Northern border? Are the rabbits back?

She responds accordingly: seasonal goods, such as green peas and plums, seem to be more expensive and sparse than last year; no outbreaks so far, and people are anticipating a peaceful year ahead; the rabbits have begun to leave their burrows! In fact, regarding that last point, the servant urges you to finish your tea faster so you can visit the babies, and despite the exasperated protests from your head lady-in-waiting, you gulp the last dregs of your drink, bits of loose tea leaves included, before gathering your dress into your fists and rushing out of the pavilion.

Rabbits are cautious creatures. They are aware of their disadvantages and their being on the bottom of the food chain. And while this village that you have become a part of and that Mydei grew up in has long taken root in this region of the Holy Nation, the local flora and fauna have yet to fully adapt to the presence and caprices of humans. Where you are from, it is quite the opposite, in that the people of your origin have learned to assimilate with this earth, rather than the other way around. Where you are from, the rabbits are not afraid to come out of their burrows and shallow mounds to peer curiously – fearlessly – at their human neighbors.

As you and the young servant approach a lush corner of the courtyard, your steps decrease in stride and bumbling excitement. Instead, the two of you tread with silent passes, almost as if you were rabbits yourselves. And when the two of you make it to the edge of the walkway, you stand still and hold your breaths, waiting earnestly for even the most fleeting of a glimpse of the animals.

Since your youth, you have had a talent for disappearing, in the most neutral sense possible. With ease that a person of ego cannot bear to imagine or replicate, you are capable of shedding off all and any attachments you have to your person and melding into the sways of the wind, the humming of the bees, the thrums of the soil beneath your feet. You showed this ability of yours to Mydei before, albeit unintentionally. It was happenstance, something you had done out of habit when he had taken you out for a stroll along a manmade pond near the east end of the Capital and you were trying to feed a pair of restless magpies. You were only shaken out of your illusory state from the grounding pressure of his hand against your shoulder blade.

With an ability like that, you could easily conceal yourself and become an assassin.

You shrugged in response because, unlike him, there is no obligation for you to pursue the art or administration of death, and you figure you will never have to either.

This is all to say that, had it not been for the chirp of excitement from your lady-in-waiting, the rabbits would have approached you out of sheer intrigue. And as quickly as they shuffled out of their home, their grey and white whiskers and fluff ruffling in the breeze, their beady eyes take note of you and your servant before they recede back to safety. Your lady-in-waiting sighs with palpable adoration and lovesickness, and you promise her that there will be another chance tomorrow.

For the rest of the morning, you eat a quick breakfast under a pagoda, admiring the jasmine blossoms that flourish around the circumference, before making way to your fitting. Fittings only occur when special occasions are imminent, and with a banquet at the Palace in celebration of the fourth prince’s birthday occurring in two weeks, your other ladies-in-waiting have brought back several robes from the market for you to try on, no doubt on Mydei’s orders. There is a generous collection of blush, cream, and sunshine brocade and linen that await you, and as you dress and undress, tie and untie, spin and spin, it is unanimously agreed upon by all of your attendants that nothing will be returned. There is also a tray that holds various accessories, most notably a tasteful amalgamation of embroidered fans and gold-accented jinbu, and those are all kept as well. Of course, upon realizing that all of these valuables are yours and yours only, you pass on a message to one of Mydei’s servants to also visit the market with expectations of purchasing new cords for your husband’s hair, as well as a replacement for his worn yudai.

Then, it is lunch, but you tend to spend this time with the other villagers. With a parasol in one hand and a basket of tangerines and dried dates in the other, you head to the edge of the village, accompanied by two guards for formality’s sake. At the perimeter, where brick walls intercept a wide, trodden path, there are several benches and tables so that both residents and travelers alike can rest. When you first arrived, you, too, sat down here, gulping down a flask of water as you observed the hustle and bustle – not as busy as the Capital, but festive enough to indicate decent business and progress.

The elders and a few mothers already present greet you with dips of their chin. Usually, citizens are to greet those of nobility or high-ranking government positions with strict curtsies and bows, and while Mydei insists on the custom in speech, he does not uphold this rule quite as stringently. The reason for your visits are twofold: to know your people and to gather information. Though you have not yet born descendants of your and Mydei’s own, you have come to realize that children have sharp ears and loose mouths, fervent in their interminable search for entertainment and delight. The village is close enough for children to pursue education in the Capital if their parents so wished, so until many of them return, you pass your time underneath the arching path of the sun exchanging pleasantries and discussing matters.

By the time the little ones return, the sun is bathed in orange gold, half-concealed by the mountains you had once traversed, and there are but a few of the fruits remaining, just enough to quench their parched throats. As children do, they clamor to their respective guardians, complaining about the heat and how they are so sweaty and tired that there is no conceivable way they can continue to study later tonight. They also recognize you, and with a lightheartedness that more often occurs between friends of the same generation, they whine for your treats. You laugh as you hand the last pieces out, as you would when feeding cabbage bits to rabbits.

Upon your return home, the moon already having replaced the sun as the night’s guardian, you dismiss your guards, so you can bathe while the rest of the household eats. You much prefer solitude when you are in a vulnerable state, and your ladies-in-waiting are no exception to this preference, even if they are no stranger to a woman’s body. Sat on a stool, you strip yourself, letting all the layers collapse in a disheveled pile, and remove any pins and beaded strings from your hair. By now, your servants have become familiar with your ways, so there is already steaming water in the bronze bathtub, so you directly step in and submerge yourself up until your neck.

The hot water is not very pleasant against your warm skin, but you stay regardless, as spring evenings can still be unforgiving and biting. You watch as the water sloshes against the solid walls of the tub, causing the steam to waver before resuming its vertical ascendance, and do nothing even when a few splashes escape and drip down the exterior. After all, this time is allotted for you to think, nothing more. Your thoughts are preoccupied with declining trade with farmers outside of the Capital, many citing long-lasting droughts and fires as primary culprits, and there have been a sharp incline of those suffering from heat strokes and asthma. Some have even mentioned hallucinations of more than a single sun in the sky, and while you are not one to be affected by superstitious or mythical stories, you do find it odd that there have been multiple accounts of such a phenomenon from various distinct folks. These are pieces of information you must report to Mydei, though it is too early to draw any actionable conclusions.

You arise from your bath half an hour later, when the water has simmered down to a lukewarm. You dry yourself, adorn a simple beige gown with a matching robe over it, and make your way to the kitchen. By the moon’s position, if all goes smoothly, your husband should return in about two hours, more than enough for you to prepare his dinner.

Although you are not obligated to cook, you have sensed Mydei’s hesitation when it comes to consuming food that is prepared by those he is unfamiliar with. He trusts you and the villagers, but many of your household’s servants are from the Capital or elsewhere. Therefore, for both his sanity and safety, you have taken on the responsibility to provide him meals so that he may eat in peace at home. Besides, it is also an opportunity for the two of you to simply be together.

Just as you have set the last plate onto the dining table, Mydei returns, lamellar plates thunking and chain mail jostling with every heavy step he takes. It is a heaviness that resounds in your heart, for it is a reflection of his fatigue and, more importantly, the weight of the responsibilities he bears.

He does not come to greet you, not yet. He does not like appearing in front of you with his armor still on. He wants to avoid bringing in the stench of blood and grief into this abode he shares with you – does not want to taint you, his person of comfort and solace, with the violence you have no desire to take part in. Though, try as he might, deep down he knows it is to no avail, as his hands, the same ones he uses to touch and feel you, are already stained with death.

In the small shed, surprisingly compact and spare for a master of many weapons, he shrugs everything off with laborious groans. As each weighted iron slab and scratchy sheet of chain mail drops to the ground, Mydei lavishes in the slow regain of freedom in his movement. Lastly, he pulls off his helmet, and with a quick rub of his sleeve against a permanent smudge, he sets it on top of a drawer that contains duplicates of his uniform, first aid, and short daggers. He does not linger, and instead, swivels around to head to where you are.

When Mydei rounds the corner to stand in front of the kitchen entrance, double doors swung wide open, he cannot help but pause in his tracks, just a few paces away from joining you at the table in the center of the room. You peer at him from your seat, your chin resting in a divot formed by your palms, and also observe him, his face shrouded in shadows.

It is not so much a staring contest as it is a reverent yearning for one another. For no reason at all, it seems the two of you have a habit of practicing restraint – hesitation – before allowing yourselves to indulge in each other.

Come sit beside me.

I will. Let me admire you first.

And so you wait.

From Mydei’s perspective, you are the most beautiful at this time of the night. It is not to say that you are not in the morning, when you are still slumbering beside him with your hands splayed across his bare chest, or when you are pinned underneath him, a sinful image of you in your most disheveled state – his stained robe splayed out underneath your figure, your lungs heaving with pitched whines, your knees trembling with indecision as you fail to choose between spreading yourself open so that he can enter deeper or closing, and thereby restricting his movement, because the pleasure is unbearable. You are always his most precious, but he believes you are at your best when you are working towards an objective. And since your marriage, you have honored his same priority in protecting his people, and he will forever admire this determination of yours.

Truthfully, he never required such a sense of responsibility in his wife. In fact, before he met you, he had never imagined shouldering this duty with anyone else, let alone a stranger from somewhere far beyond. But you are no longer a stranger, and now, during your shared dinners, you are able to speak of this place as if you grew up here, alongside him and all the other villagers. You speak with incredible depth and acute intuition, and fortified by the precision and clarity in your words, he cannot help but think that, despite your personal aversions towards leadership and confrontation, you deserve to stand beside him in the ranks.

The oil lamps and candles on the dining table brighten your face with a gentle golden glow. He can see the flames’ flickering in your eyes, and behind you, he can hear the crackle of smoldering wood and charcoal. He walks over and takes a seat beside you, noticing the faint traces of fire and herbs that linger in your hair and at your shoulders. Pressing the side of his thigh against yours, he picks up his chopsticks and begins to eat, a gesture for you to initiate the conversation.

There is noticeable delay. We can no longer ignore the growing connection between the slowdown of trade with the recurring delusions of multiple suns in the sky. 

Do you think it could be divine punishment?

If we had incurred the wrath of Tian, we would have long suffered, and the Emperor would have justified the recent happenings. Our deities have no interest or patience for prolonged torture.

We will need to wait then. We need to know more, or else we will be searching in vain.

No.

You set down your bowl and look straight ahead, peering outside at the courtyard – or rather, at a point somewhere beyond the walls of the courtyard. Mydei can feel your presence wax and wane, expand and recede, until it settles down into a light thrum, akin to the tranquil qi of lotus petals and mossy creeks. He can still see you, without a doubt, but he knows that if he had not been in this room with you right now, he would have never been able to find you here without incredible effort.

It is magical, truly, how you can quiet your presence. In his many years of training and fighting, he has met only a handful of incredible soldiers who can do the same. He was only able to gain this ability himself after maturing as a person and facing the near-death consequences of overwhelming, unbound bloodlust in the midst of combat. That is not to claim that you did not learn in the same ways, but he cannot confirm nor deny because, for better or worse, you never speak of the past. Otherwise, outside of the army, he only knows of the high priests and priestesses that can also adopt a kind of otherworldly aura during their rituals and prayers.

He chews slowly, more preoccupied with observing your profile. Your features are unperturbed, essentially blank, and there is an unfocused fog in your eyes, sharply distinct from the ambition burning within your irises at the beginning of dinner. You shiver, probably to your own ignorance, and he places his things down so he can take off his robe and wrap your shoulders with it. To his surprise, and contentment, you instinctively lean over to rest your shoulder against his without disrupting your thoughts. Just as you wait for him, he waits for you.

By the time the shortest of the three candles, once a sixth of its original length, is about to extinguish, you come to, and the light in your eyes returns as well.

Innate divinity – not to be conflated with the ability to call forth divine powers or forces – is only granted to a few select individuals. More than likely, there will be no need to search the common folk.

Let us begin at the Palace.

Will the Emperor take to this idea?

Perhaps he already has conjectures of his own. I shall request an audience.

Divinity is an intricate, mysterious subject. Deeply embedded in the belief systems and cultural underpinnings of this Holy Nation, most people are naturally mesmerized and fearful of Tian’s deities and their abilities. Even those who are born with divine abilities, namely the Emperor and a select few of his children, and those who can invoke divinity through sacred objects and incantations, such as priests, priestesses, and monks, advise all to be cautious of incurring heavenly wrath. 

When you first heard of the hallucinations, you thought it to be the aftershocks of severe heatstroke. Then, when many more farmers and traders began to verify the sighting of various suns, it became clear that the divine was involved because, when individuals who have no capacity for divinity are exposed to these mystical forces, their minds and behaviors can be continuously affected. That must mean they must have come in contact with a mythic beast or creature.

The deities are known for having many children and several other distant brethren, some of which exist on the earth, roaming around as Buddhist guardians, such as the regal Dapengs, or man-eating snake monsters, the most infamous being the nine-headed Jiuying that terrorized seafarers for decades until Mydei slayed it. In this case, an immediate possibility was the return of the boar demon Feng Xi who often wreaked havoc upon farmlands. Feng Xi was also subdued by your husband a few years ago, but it would be no surprise if it were to appear again, typical of the inexplicable nature of divine beasts. But upon investigations of the ruined farmlands by their respective prefectural ministers, there were no signs of terrifying waste or death, only the usual symptoms of a long-lasting drought and ashy remains from fires caused by unrelenting dry winds. With further consideration, you also know that it is impossible, from personal observations and experiences, to invoke a heavenly force powerful – brutal – enough to cause a disaster of this magnitude. In other words, by process of elimination, the problem has to either be the direct doing of a human blessed with divinity or, even worse, a creature or deity from Tian themselves. 

You can only hope it is not the latter.

Your concern must be showing on your face, as Mydei leans over to rub his thumb firmly against the apple of your cheek.

No more. Come back to me.

You nod, knowing when to be obedient. When Mydei speaks to you in this tone, sympathetic yet earnest, you know he is looking out for you, grounding you before you can fully lose yourself. While you have impressive mental strength and foresight, you lack an attachment to the present, and without supervision, there is a very real risk of you drifting far, far away, disappearing as you once did when you were young.

Your husband takes you by the hand and guides you back to your shared bedroom. The brief walk is silent, save for your footsteps and the occasional greeting from a guard. The two of you part momentarily when you enter the chamber, as Mydei heads to the side to open the window screens to allow streams of moonlight into the room, while you take your seat on the center of the bed. It is not cold even as a slight breeze filters into the room, for his robe still shields your back and shoulders. However, you elect to take it off, and Mydei watches you strip, not just his clothing but also your layers underneath, from where he is standing.

The moon always manages to cast a romantic light on all that it befalls, and through the midst of your moans, his pants, and the joining of your bodies, over and over and over again, it generously extends its rays so that the two of you are able to have a clear view of each other in your otherwise pitch black room. Surprisingly, there is also a warmth to the moonlight, a soothing and comforting quality to it, that makes you feel as if time is passing slower than it actually is. In this prolonged moment, you can pinpoint every single movement and sensation between you and Mydei – his steeled grip around the base of your neck as he presses you tightly against his chest, the curling of your toes with every deep thrust, the crescendo of his heartbeat against yours. In this room, there is only you and him, isolated and ignorant to the rest of the world – the universe, even –, and defying all rules of space and physics, you solely focus on extending the present for as long as you can, while Mydei struggles to convey to you just how deeply obsessed and enamored he is with you. No one can intervene in this proud, unabashed act of intimacy, and if either you or Mydei dared, both of you would even describe your shared bond as sacred. And, especially for you, you know to not use that word so carelessly.

And when Mydei lays you down to peel off your legs and instead press them down, as close to your ears as possible, he goes impossibly harder and deeper. In this space, there are only the two of you, though you are only seeing him, and he is only seeing you. There are no thoughts or even carnal desires, just a fundamental appreciation and unconditional loving for the other. You whimper – my love – as he presses his sweat-stricken forehead against yours, and he responds with a passionate roll of his hips and a scathing bite that draws blood at your left shoulder. With your arms wrapped around his head, you keep him there and leave him with no choice but to continue making love to you until you unravel at your climax with your teeth clenching, thighs shaking, mind spinning, soul soaring. Mydei soon follows, piercing his nails into your hips to mark you on the outside, releasing within you to mark you on the inside, and between labored rasps of your name, he smears his lips and tongue over yours in hopes of memorizing your addictive taste, your delighted sounds, and your passionate touch.

The two of you stay intertwined, even when neither of you are reeling from the impact of your highs. To part would be to abandon this private realm, which would mean returning to your normal tendencies of hesitance and restraint, and even though all of this will repeat once again tomorrow, you lack the patience to wait, still imprisoned in the moon’s warped, elongated trajectories of time and space.

Despite your defiance, the two of you fall asleep, consumed by wariness and longing, and another day of your life passes.

–

The Emperor has ten sons and countless more daughters. Today marks the seventeenth birthday of the fourth prince, and as expected, it is a grand event. Earlier, at the celebration’s reception, there were hundreds of dancers in neat rows, all flicking their sleeves and arching their fingertips to the rhythm of the Capital’s grand orchestra, also perfectly organized and harmonious as a whole. Following the conclusion of the performance, guards, servants, and lower-ranking officials dash back and forth and around the expanse of the Palace to ensure the undeterred progression of the fourth prince’s birthday party, while higher-ranking officials and generals, along with their accompanying guests, mill about before filing to their respective seats along the two columns of tables laid out parallel to the walls of the central courtyard. In the center front, there is a raised stage with a constructed overhang large enough to accommodate the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, and all ten sons. The platform and steps are entirely covered by a luxurious red carpet with golden floral patterns, and from Mydei’s seat, you can marvel at the delicate porcelain dishware set on top of masterfully carved wooden countertops. You are not used to such lavish displays of wealth and luxury because, although Mydei has long been one of the Emperor’s most loyal and trustworthy generals, that does not necessarily mean you are invited to visit the Palace often. Therefore, as the two of you wait for the birthday ceremony to officially begin, you try to sit as still as possible in order to marvel and take in your surroundings.

During this period, many governmental and bureaucratic figures visit your and Mydei’s seat to say their greetings and make elucidating small talk. Despite assuming his role as one of the Holy Nation’s protectors, your husband cannot abandon certain pet peeves of his, and he shuts down all but one of these conversations with dry responses that reveal nothing of his thoughts or opinions. The only official that he properly responds to is the Head of the Security Bureau, a man by the name of Phainon. From past dinner conversations, you remember Mydei mentioning this man but with the questionable nickname “Deliverer” instead. It was in reference to Phainon’s previous position under the Central Secretariat, though the reason behind his transfer to the Security Bureau continues to remain a secret even to your husband. Regardless, it is obvious that Mydei only tolerates this man at best, so you make sure to listen intently to their conversation.

Mydei! Rare to see you so festive!

It is Mydeimos for you, Deliverer.

Ha, yes, of course.

What is the Security Bureau doing here? What happened to keeping a low profile?

No worries, it is only me, and almost everyone here still believes I remain under the Secretariat. I am also here because I have news to share with you.

Hurry, then.

Phainon does not, though. He hums and begins to look around the courtyard. For a moment, you sense his gaze, but it does not linger for more than a full second. With a shake of his head, your husband sighs and takes deep gulps of water to keep himself preoccupied until the Security Head finally carries on.

He will want to speak to you, when it is your turn to congratulate the prince.

Regarding what?

But Phainon shrugs, and this time, there is no hint of evasion or distance. He truly does not know. But he does leave Mydei with one last piece of instruction.

You will be last in line.

After a few more teasing remarks, Phainon bids the two of you farewell, and from your periphery, you watch him disappear from the south gate.

Before dinner, all of the officials present are to line up in terms of rank and nobility, and, one by one, greet the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the princes, as well as present their gifts. As per military customs, Mydei requested a new sword sheath of untarnished gold be made for the fourth prince, to represent unwavering courage and honorable victory, so that shall be your offering. However, these interactions usually do not last for more than a few minutes, the last ones usually even more rushed, to ensure that everyone gets their turn and are not too irritated by mealtime, so you wonder how exactly the Emperor will relay his message. Furthermore, you find it suspicious that Phainon requested your husband, one of the generals under direct supervision of the Emperor, to place himself last.

Alas, you find yourself in another situation where you cannot draw sound conclusions. But now that Phainon has left and no other officials have the gall to approach Mydei, you can actually enjoy the ongoing celebrations with your husband.

You fill his tea cup and then yours, though you take a sip first. When you look up at him, he nods in affirmation before drinking himself. The walls, you notice, are a rustic red-brown, though much of it has been covered up by the willows and persimmon trees that were moved specifically for tonight’s event. Scattered between the trunks of the trees are gathered shrubs of all kinds, from batches of orange peonies to short stalks of bamboo to clusters of purple asters. You wonder if you could bring back a few roots or seeds with you, but with one sharp glance from Mydei, you discard the idea immediately.

Your husband knows that you are bored, though, so he offers some reprieve.

There are rumors that the fourth prince might not even make it to his own birthday party.

I am not surprised. I have heard the Emperor’s sons are quite rowdy.

I believe Phainon is here to ensure that all of the princes arrive on time and participate through its entirety. I must say, it is quite entertaining to see him chase after a few brats.

Mydei.

Do not worry. The Emperor is understanding. Besides, I am sure he wholeheartedly agrees at the current moment.

Oh?

Mydei raises his chin, staring up at the night sky. It is hard to make out any one star due to the outstanding numbers of torches, lamps, and fires distributed around the courtyard, but it is not like Mydei was looking at the stars in the first place. The two of you are different in this way. You often seek the world when you think, looking outwards for celestial signs, while Mydei often becomes more introspective with his musings. Even when it looks like he is searching for something, he most likely is not, as he believes all of the answers he needs are usually, perhaps with some effort required, within one’s grasp.

Phainon has aided our investigations of the Palace. He is confident that the culprit is not to be found here.

Your fist digs into the sleeves of your gown.

There are not even signs of collusion?

You know the deities would never stoop to that level. They do not need the help of mortal intelligence or treachery. Regardless, the Emperor has been made aware of the situation, and is quite preoccupied with it. His sons’ constant running about and lack of any sort of drive or initiative is certainly not doing him any good either.

Pursing your lips, you glance at your husband, only to find him already staring at you.

Fear not, my wife. I have slain products of the divine before.

His eyes seem to glow with fierce intensity. The red and orange streaks in his eyes are more noticeable, not because of the myriad torches surrounding your table, but rather because his eyes are widening out of enthusiasm. You scowl, disapproving of his evident bloodthirstiness, yet despite your opposing morals, you slip a hand into his hold. By instinct, he begins to press at the pads of your fingertips, while rubbing circles into your palm. If it were any other day, any other moment, his physical affection would soothe and reassure you. Unfortunately, as Mydei has just confirmed the worst of your suspicions, the fear taking root in the pit of your stomach has already begun to sprout and overwhelm the rest of your emotions.

Surely there is no need to jump into a fight.

Huh, you propose a negotiation? Our deities already know what the consequences of their actions are – they do not care to change their ways, even with such knowledge. What makes you think their minds are still susceptible to reconsideration?

Perhaps some of them do care.

Your husband snorts. To be honest, he is a little surprised by your response. Neither of you are particularly devout, and throughout his many years of knowing you at this point, he knows you are not fond of the divine. So for you to defend them, to the extent of betting on their fickle and spare goodwill, is unusual.

It is not up to me, my wife. I act based on what the Emperor asks of me.

Something in you – a gut instinct, a trained intuition – tells you that you will find out the Emperor’s decision by tonight.

After another half hour, composed of more light-hearted conversation and small bites of snacks to whet your appetite, a gong finally sounds, its ringing reverberating throughout the entirety of the Palace. You feel your bones quake with each vibration, and only after its last echoes have died off does your body regain stillness. The Emperor’s secretary makes his way to the center of the stage, and with a deep bow, commands everyone to rise for the Imperial Family. Everyone stands and bows, faces parallel to the floor, until all members of the Imperial Family settle into their seats, which the secretary confirms several minutes later. Afterwards, you all line up.

Other officials have curious looks on their faces as they see you and Mydei turn away from the stage. One even asks where the two of you are headed, wondering if you have lost your minds and are intent on abandoning the ceremony, but neither of you respond and continue toward the back of the line. 

You and Mydei do not speak for the entire hour that it takes for your turn to come. The whole time, nervous and intimidated stares are directed your way, but both of you could care less, simply standing side by side, close enough for your sleeves to brush against and overlap each other.

When the rest of the officials have returned to their seats, only you and Mydei remain, standing a few feet away from the steps that lead up to the raised platform. With a nod from the secretary, Mydei leads you forward, always a step ahead, and when the two of you stand level with the Imperial Family, you get on your knees and raise your clasped hands in front of your dipped heads.

Good evening, your Highnesses. Congratulations to the Fourth Prince, for reaching his seventeenth birthday. We hope the prince continues to live a prosperous, fortunate, and long life, and I present this sword sheath, a product of the finest metals and months’ worth of labor, a tool that we hope he will use as he prepares to lead this Holy Nation. We pay our deepest respects to the Imperial Family.

An attendant takes the sheath from Mydei’s outstretched arms. Usually, one would be dismissed shortly after presenting their gift, but the secretary has yet to tell either of you to rise. Instead, you hear the sound of a chair’s legs rubbing against the carpet’s fur, along with padded footsteps that stop right in front of your husband.

General Mydeimos, you have done incredibly in serving me, and ultimately, this Holy Nation. Your loyalty is not to be questioned.

You recognize this voice. It is jaded yet firm, gentle but irrefutable. The Emperor is telling you his decision.

I want to make an announcement to all that are present, to heed my intent and my resolve. This Holy Nation has coexisted with and lived under the guidance of Tian, but it has not always been a harmonious or even peaceful endeavor. As Emperor, it is my sworn duty, an oath I have undertaken since the day of my inauguration, to protect my people, including all of you, and I can promise you that, throughout these many years under my rule, Tian and I are connected and that I have been in constant search to make a more serene coexistence – a symbiosis, if you will – possible. However –

It seems the Palace and everything within it unanimously sucks in a quavering breath.

– it has become apparent that the heavens have no interest in granting us such serenity. Of course, by no means is this speech of mine a declaration of war or defiance. Rather, I believe this burden I am about to share with you is, in fact, a challenge for this Holy Nation, and one that will be undertaken by a representative of my choosing: Mydeimos. General Mydeimos, please rise.

As much as you would love to raise your head and stare at Mydei like everyone else, you have not been granted permission to lift your head, so you can only continue to heed the Emperor’s message carefully, trying to discern any subtle implications while continuing to pay attention to the words that follow.

For the many years that he has served me, General Mydeimos has become a pillar in the Holy Nation’s defenses. He has slain many of Tian’s earthbound descendants, protecting this land from the destruction of loose spirits and evil demons. Under his watchful gaze, he had confirmed the prophetic fragments I was receiving from Tian, that it is part of this Holy Nation’s fate that we are to face our doom if we remain motionless and ignorant. My people, hear me now, and listen to me carefully, as this message of mine is not meant to inflict any unnecessary fear or anxiety. However, the heavens have told me, as I am telling you, that if nothing is done, the entire world will be burned to its core by the manifestation of ten suns. No human, no animal, no plant will survive the onslaught of ten more suns, no ocean or lake or sea can withstand the fire of ten more suns, not even Tian’s earthbound descendants will be spared.

For this most inauspicious prophecy, I must apologize, on behalf of my ten sons, for their continuous mischief and negligence have been deemed the cause of this impending tragedy. Indeed, Tian has whispered as such in my mind. This Holy Nation deeply understands the various attitudes our deities have towards humans. Some are indifferent, some are intensely curious. It seems this impending tragedy has come about from the latter. My ten sons, this Holy Nation’s royal princes, have inspired the same mischief and negligence in ten of Yudi’s sons. They aspire to experience the same carefree play that my sons have gone away with – escaping the Palace, tricking the innocent to satisfy their personal greed, disappearing for extended periods of time. This behavior has never been acceptable in the Imperial Family, yet despite our fervent attempts to curb their behaviors, Yudi’s sons have already seen enough. 

There is now more than one sun in the sky, there is no mistake to that. We will continue to see more and more suns appear, and by the tenth, we will all perish. We must not cast doubt on this matter anymore, because the severity of this issue is life-threatening.

But, again, need I remind all that are present that I do not wish to embed an unjustified sense of fear or anxiety in any of you. The reason I have called upon all of you is because I would like all that are present to bear witness to this heavenly oath that General Mydeimos will take.

You cannot help but gasp, a sharp, harsh intake of breath that almost causes you to sputter and cough. But, even when the world feels like it is falling down on you, you manage to bear the pain, and you stifle it with tears gathering in your burning eyes.

General Mydeimos, there is no end to your remarkable feats in the military, and we are grateful for all that you have done. However, this ask of mine is one of a difficulty I can promise you have never faced before, and you must know, it could be the last task you ever undertake. Knowing all of the risks, I still ask you to take the following oath: I, General Mydeimos, under the watchful eye of the people of this Holy Nation, the Emperor, and all of Tian who are interested, I pledge to take down all but one of the suns, even at the cost of my own life.

It feels impossible to breathe. It seems, no matter how you try to escape, how far you run away, or where you disappear to, the divine will always catch up to you, pulling you away from your loved ones, and the other way around. Hot streams of tears pour down your cheeks, and the only way to prevent yourself from making any noise is to bite down on your lower lip, until your jaws are locking and your teeth are piercing through the thin flesh. Your clasped hands shudder violently, not only from the exhaustion of holding them up for so long, but also from how tightly they are gripping onto each other. Your knuckles are without a doubt strained, and your fingernails are digging into the backs of your hands. Your ears ring with deafening silence, while straining to hear Mydei’s response, yet you also do not want to listen, fearful because you know that, even if he had a choice, he would always agree to a brutal fight.

Without a beat of hesitation, your husband, chief of your village, a general of this Holy Nation, speaks.

I, General Mydeimos, under the watchful eye of the people of this Holy Nation, the Emperor, and all of Tian who are interested, I pledge to take down all but one of the suns, even at the cost of my own life.

Despite the crescendo of applause, the drums, the gong, you hear nothing. You are not sure how it is that you manage to bow to the Emperor, make your way down from the stage, and return to your seat alongside Mydei’s, but to be honest, you do not care how you did any of those things. All you can think about is that, once again, your loved one is being separated from you, all because of the heavens and the divine, and even if his hand is clutching onto yours at this moment, so tight that you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers or the center of your palm, he has never felt farther away.

–

There is no more of your routine with Mydei. He is taken away at the end of the birthday party to begin making preparations for his conquest, leaving you to return to the village alone. He does not visit, can only make time to send concise messages, but he does promise you that he will return the night before he is scheduled to leave.

This is not Mydei’s first conquest, but it is his first conquest that you are dreading, to say the least. It is difficult to encapsulate the extent of your mental anguish because the resurfacing of past traumas, of memories you are insistent on forgetting, is a dark, murky sensation. It is asphyxiating, but you do not know that you are being choked until it is too late, past the point of return. You are no different from a sleeping mouse in the coiled chokehold of a starving snake, and there is nothing to save you, not even to witness your death. Part of you knows this is a globalization of an internal anxiety, as Mydei has not been slain. He is well and alive presently, but that does not answer your deepest concern: will he survive? Even if you sought out divine signals as you had once routinely done over a decade ago, you have been taught that it is taboo to seek the fate of an individual. Fate can be consulted for villages, the weather, long-term wealth, but to determine the death of somebody, even an important figure, is strongly discouraged as there is no use in disturbing one’s mind over a matter that has been set in stone since the birth of this universe.

Not that any of that is relevant. You are sure the divine, even the weakest of Tian’s spirits, would not heed your call, would pay no mind to a trivial woman that had, a long time ago, abandoned her position as a high priestess, and in turn, her prolific ability to invoke divinity. Had you remained at the convent and grown into your role as high priestess, perhaps only then would they give you a fraction of their time, but then, in that case, you would not be praying for Mydei’s safety, but rather for the protection of this Holy Nation as a whole.

There is no particular reason for why you have hidden your past from Mydei or the villagers, other than to save face. After all, no one would believe in the loyalty or commitment of a traitor. Regardless, now that there is established trust, you staunchly believe there is no need to share distasteful matters, like your pathetic past. At this moment, everyone should prioritize Mydei, as well as ensuring the operations of the village during his absence.

Mydei finds you not in the dining room, but in his office at his desk, with a candelabra burning away, as if you are prepared to work the whole night. You are combing through a few scrolls that were once shelved, the old texts he used to pore over when he was training to become village chief. It is not that you are a stranger to their contents or to the duties of the village chief. It is simply that, when you are uneasy, you tend to return to the very basics, to instill confidence within yourself that there is a logical rationale behind your actions and decisions. He knocks on the office doors and watches through the parted screen window as you scramble up from your seat from surprise. He chuckles, but had there been any listeners, they would know those were half-hearted at best.

We need to talk.

It is comforting, though, that there remain some things that will never change. Even if you are not honest, Mydei will always face you with a straightforward attitude, and compared to before, he feels more present, confirming that he is, in fact, standing in front of you, when he loops your arm through his. You let him guide you away from the office and to your shared bedroom, where you can, for the last time in a while, immerse yourselves in this space dedicated only to the two of you.

On the bed, he pulls you into a tight, engulfing embrace. With his chest molded against your arched back, his legs spread out to barricade your form, his chin atop your left shoulder where the bite mark once was, the two of you parse through all and any matters.

There will be a caravan arriving in a month’s time.

The north west gate needs to be rebuilt.

We should consider extending trade to some of the towns in the south.

You will miss it when the peaches are in season.

Be sure to visit Grandma Li. She tends to forget to take her medication.

Do not forget to rest your arm. Feng Meng will not take it easy on you, even if you are his general and him your soldier. You will always be his master first.

When you need me, look up at the moon, because I will also be gazing at it. Never forget that we are forever under the same sky.

The moonlight is especially consoling that night. Unlike his usual tendencies to dominate and overwhelm, your husband lets you set the pace, and atop him, he watches you surge up and down, the moon’s beams illuminating your damp skin, your parted lips, and your glossed eyes. Your breasts, hips, thighs ripple with every unforgiving drop of your body onto his, and his cock pierces you deeply in turn, reaching and hitting spots that cause you to see stars. He never fails to make you feel fulfilled, but tonight, you are voracious, and you just want more, more, more of him. You want to embed pieces of yourself into his body, so that throughout his campaign, no matter how long it lasts, he will never once waver when he thinks back to your touch, your scent, your love. As you continue riding him, you run your hands over his sturdy form, letting your fingers trace the divots of his muscles, the fat of his chest, the red streaks of tattoo that paint his arms. It is also so that you will never forget, drawing an illustrative map of his body so that in your times of loneliness, anxiety, and want, you also have something of his to depend upon. Perhaps you have forgotten how to live without your husband, but that is a subject for introspection later. In the present, you decide to accelerate your movements and apply more force with every exerted rise and fall.

Eventually, you collapse forward because by no means do you have as much stamina as your husband, but you urge yourself to push forward nonetheless and resort to more shallow lifts and dramatic swirls of your hips. With your face buried against the underside of his chin, you begin to mouth at his neck and Adam’s apple, the rumble of his groans and hisses traveling and vibrating straight through the thin skin of your lips. When it looks like your husband’s exhibiting a significant amount of restraint, with the way his head keeps shaking side to side and his hands grip onto your thighs with shackling strength, you cannot help but smirk, ready to give him his release that he is so desperately delaying. You litter a line of kisses down to his collarbones, and after a few laves of your tongue, as if to smooth and placate him, you bite down, sinking your teeth into the juncture where his neck and shoulders meet, clamping down so hard with the intent to punish, to instill guilt, to kill his fighting spirit.

Normally, you would never do such a thing. You have no interest in tying your partner down or forcing them to sacrifice the people and things they love and enjoy. But since he has granted you so much selfishness already, you might as well go the full way and make him really understand the state he has put you in. For, even upon reflection, you know it in your bare, raw soul that you will never know life without your husband. Where he goes, you follow. If he is alive, you will be, too. But if he were to die, then your time will also have come.

Your husband cries out loud with a wild shout of your name, arms flying to enclose themselves around your figure out of both surprise and overstimulation, and with a spontaneous jerk of his hip upwards, his cock collides with your core and slams into that spot, the one that always has you ripping apart at the seams and screaming for mercy, pulling you up to your euphoric high with him. Ironically, it feels as if you are falling from Tian, soaring through the sky while being unable to breathe, a coursing pleasure followed by a stinging, bittersweet pang. You do not even realize you are sobbing until your husband muffles your wails with his mouth, swallowing your grief and despair down with his own fears, of which he definitely has but will never voice.

Mydei is not used to seeing you so sentimental. You are more aloof and reserved, so he is not as practiced with handling your outbursts as he should be. But even he knows that this torrential surging of your emotions is really a broken heart personified. You need him to know that your heart is being torn and cracked and smashed by the inevitable reality of his leave, and he knows you are telling him that only he can fix you by coming back in one piece and with a sound mind.

For the remainder of the night, he holds you impossibly closer, one hand always keeping your face to his chest, the other always wound around your waist, his legs always tangled with yours. And before he falls asleep, he looks out the window, gazing up at a sliver of the starry sky, and prays to the moon to cast its gentle, assuring light upon you every dusk he is gone. Despite his personal gripes with the divine, he is convinced that, with the way it has never failed to make you look so mesmerizing and delicate underneath its glow, the moon will continue to bask you with its nurture and protection for as long as it takes for him to return, and he is soothed by that thought, because someone needs to look out for you in his absence.

By the early dawn, he is ready to leave. The two of you stand at the entrance to your abode, and with a chaste kiss to your forehead, he finally parts from you, distancing himself in slow motion. You watch, rooted to your spot, as he gets on his horse, relishes in one last longing gaze, and sets off. He rides away without looking back, and when he is out of sight, you, too, return to your bedroom without even the faintest sign of indecision or doubt.

–

Mydei returns not the following summer, but the summer after, right when the peach blossoms have begun shedding to make way for the green buds that will, in two to three weeks’ time, fruit. There is no fanfare or parade, not even an announcement to notify you of his arrival. In fact, for the little over two years since his departure, you were not informed of any aspect of his campaign from official channels. It did not matter, though, when everyone was able to keep track of his progress with every morning that passed.

Barely a month after his leave, you woke up with sweat soaking through your clothes and blankets, as if you had remained in a bath with your clothes on for several hours. You made it a habit to leave your windows open every night, but had you woken up that morning any later, you would have been sunburnt to the point of permanent scarring from the three suns that were just beginning to rise in the sky, their unrelenting heat scorching everything that happened to soak in its light. You got up and warned everyone in the household to remain indoors, and perilously, you took not one, but two, thickly lined parasols with you as you made your way through the village to issue warnings and usher those that were outside back into their homes. The flowers that you had tended to just the other afternoon were already wilting, dehydrated, and you goaded the rabbits from their hole with a trail of fruits and leaves to another you had haphazardly dug where there was everlasting shade.

Later on, you would hear that Mydei had first tried to negotiate with Yudi’s sons, telling them to fulfill their appetite for mischief with something else, but given the inconsistencies in the rumors, it is not clear whether the sons ignored or denied the general’s demands. It seems that Mydei’s attempt at swaying their minds only further encouraged them to follow through with their plan, and Yudi’s sons began to wreak havoc shortly afterwards. As a result, it became a hunt, one that required Mydei and his troop to race around the Holy Nation in search of each of Yudi’s kin. Mydei and his men could only attack at night, when the sons had left their daytime posts to make way for the moon, but they never came down together, instead settling in different parts of the Holy Nation.  

The information you managed to garner, in the form of riveting tales and dubiously trustworthy gossip, either came from the village children’s eavesdropping or the occasional letter from Phainon, which he sent under personal regards. There never was an explanation for why you were kept in the dark, and you never bothered to ask either, because what good would it do for you? Had your husband been slain, you and everyone else in the world would have known already, and you need not entertain excessive hope. All you had to do was see if you could wake to another day.

The worst occurred a year and a half into Mydei’s journey, when there were six suns in the sky at once, their brightness bleeding out even the pure blue of the space beyond. Everybody stayed indoors and covered every possible crack or opening to prevent sunlight from leaking in, but not without the cost of broiling within their own rooms. On days when it was more possible to venture outside, you and your guards had to visit the occasional house to pull out dead bodies, smelling of decaying rot, feces, and steam, and bury them before even their right to a dignified burial was stolen by Yudi’s kin. And this was not a problem exclusive to your village. The Palace began to ring a large gong, three resonating beats, at noon every day to honor the growing number of victims, and there was a national decree for every home to light incense and perform daily prayers during the early evenings to beg for Tian’s interference.

Of course, nobody from Tian ever responded, but it seemed as if Mydei had sensed his people’s tortured cries, and from that point onwards, the suns continue to be felled, one after the other, until only one remained, the same sun that has stood with the earth since the very beginning.

You are in his office when your head lady-in-waiting calls out your title with excited raps against the paneled doors.

My Lady! You must come! Someone has come for you!

You are on your feet immediately, and you almost knock her over when you burst through the doors.

However, you are not greeted by your husband. Rather, it is another familiar face that greets you with a toothy grin and a proud hand saluted at his head.

We have made it back, safe and sound!

You cannot help but throw your arms around the man’s neck, hugging him without reprieve for air. His arms do not reciprocate, for it is inappropriate for a man to demonstrate affection towards a taken woman, but by his hearty laughs, you know he is overjoyed by your reaction.

Where is your master, Feng Meng?

In the Capital, reporting to the Emperor. I have come to fetch you, Madam, to attend his ceremony! You must hurry!

Without another thought, you and your servants rush to dress you. There are flurries of orange sashes, twirling skirts with golden beads sewn at the waist, the clicking of green jade against white jade, and in no later than ten minutes, you are in an oxcart that speeds its way to the Palace.

It is extremely difficult to get to the Palace. First, all entrances to the Capital are at a standstill, bottlenecked by a flood of traffic composed of several donkeys, horses, and merchant carts. The inside of the Capital fares no better – in fact, made worse by all of the pedestrians, street-side shops, and narrow paths. It is only after your cart finally pushes its way through the long lines and leaves the more populated and mercantile neighborhoods that the traffic disperses, and then it is an orderly journey to the Palace. When the guards ask for the purpose of your visit, Feng Meng simply needs to flash the handle of his sword, and you are directed to enter through the back gates, typically only reserved for guests of honor.

You swallow thickly from the infinite, various thoughts swirling in your mind. Will he have scars etching every corner of his body? Will he be several shades tanner? Is his hair an unruly length, or has he cut, or worse, singed it short? Is he a changed person, more violent in demeanor or fatigued from excessive stress? You do not plan on bombarding him with your questions, as he is probably answering plenty from government officials and the Emperor himself, but you also cannot guarantee that you will be able to restrain yourself. Though, the more you think about it, you are not sure how you should react when you see him. Should you wait for him to approach you, or should you take the initiative? Will he want to embrace you or keep you at a distance to give himself some space? How different is he from the man he was more than two years ago, and what will this current version of Mydei think of you when he sees you?

You fail to devise a plan by the time your cart comes to a stop and Feng Meng holds his elbow out to help you jump down. The Palace guards instruct you to wait with the other soldiers' wives, mothers, and fathers in the tea room around the corner, and Feng Meng directs you before he has to leave to prepare for the ceremony himself. You are unsure if Mydei will come to you as you wait in the tea room, so in the case that he does, you find a chair closest to the open entrance, and sit in perfect posture, still and quiet. The other people in the room are frantic, sharing the same questions and concerns you have, but requiring and taking advantage of the comfort of family to alleviate each other’s doubts and fears. You are reminded that neither you or Mydei have other family to turn to, only each other, and oddly enough, you become more optimistic.

All of you are in the tea room for two hours before a Palace guard comes to beckon the entire gathering to follow him. The guard guides all of you to your seats, near the back of the same courtyard you were in for the fourth prince’s seventeenth birthday party. This time, instead of two columns of tables, there are rows upon rows of people kneeling shoulder to shoulder, facing in the direction of the raised center stage. As per usual, the Imperial Family has yet to make their appearance, but they soon will after the highest-ranking officials finish taking their seats.

Finally, with the blaring sound of horns and gongs and drums, the award ceremony begins, and the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the ten princes ascend their thrones. The secretary comes at the end of the line, and with a nod from the Emperor, the former begins his speech.

Today marks the official end of General Mydeimos’ campaign to defeat ten of Yudi’s sons. General Mydeimos and his men have returned victorious, and so, we host today’s ceremony in tribute to their bravery and success.

The crowd breaks into a clamoring of applause, a little more unruly due to the ecstatic and celebratory atmosphere.

We will present General Mydeimos and his troop of 62 surviving soldiers with honorable military status, in addition to multiple monetary benefits. We will also mourn the loss of the 138 soldiers, whose lives were lost throughout the campaign’s duration, with a funeral procession that will take place the following Saturday and Sunday. Families of the deceased will receive imperial support, and on behalf of this Holy Nation, we are indebted to the sacrifices you and your sons have made. More information regarding the funeral and compensation will be announced and distributed in the coming days. With that, we will begin by awarding the 62 soldiers.

A line of soldiers marches forth from behind you, and you closely observe them as they trod past you. Their faces are set and stern, and they are wearing their tattered armor, rusted and melted swords, bows, and spears held in place on their backs. You also notice several holding onto the solder in front of them, and with a closer look, you realize many of them have either a diminished or total loss of sight. As the line reaches the steps to the stage, the secretary begins calling out each name, handing every person when it is their turn a bronze badge with an engraved solar insignia and a hefty bag of riches. There is no applause, as silence is a way of demonstrating utmost attention and respect, until all the soldiers have been named and awarded. The survivors line up once again and seat themselves along the walls of the courtyard.

Then, an obedient hush falls across the crowd, all in anticipation of the true hero. You, too, suck in your breath, eyes darting around in search of your husband, the chief of your village, a general of this Holy Nation. With a deep breath, the secretary announces his presence in a booming, grand voice.

General Mydeimos, please enter!

Your abilities to speak, breathe, even think are stolen from you. It does not feel like reality when you see Mydei, his hair tied in a clean knot on the top of his head, a velvety black cape billowing behind his broad, intimidating figure, the metal blade of his glaive glinting fiercely underneath the rays of the single sun in the sky. Mydei spares nothing to the crowd, not a prideful smirk or disinterested glance, and simply kneels deeply when he makes his way in front of the Imperial Family.

The Emperor rises from his seat, and the secretary is prompted to narrate.

General Mydeimos, the Emperor would like to personally bestow you your rewards, for your incomparable feat in defeating Yudi’s sons, ten of Tian’s mightiest creations. On behalf of the Imperial Family, he would like to award you a ranking within the nobility and an accompanying northern estate in the Capital. Furthermore, your village will receive recovery aid from the government and many trade benefits. Thank you, once again, for your service.

The Emperor gestures for Mydei to stand, and attaches a noble badge onto the latter’s cloak. Mydei then turns around and bows to the crowd.

General Mydeimos, would you like to say anything, in light of your return and victorious conquest?

He sweeps his eyes across the hundreds of people in front of him before lifting his head and glaring up at the clear blue sky.

My men and I have returned, and the Holy Nation is safe. We are safe, and undefeated.

Through the thundering of applause, cheers, and cries, you tear up at the glorious sight of your husband. He is far away, not as far as he was these past two years, but still a fair distance away such that you cannot make out the features of his face. How blessed it is to live in the same world as him, you think, and it seems your undivided admiration of your husband causes you to accidentally rid yourself of your presence. Mydei’s head snaps to look in your direction, having sensed a change within the audience. He cannot see you individually, but he knows you are somewhere amongst that section of the crowd, and he nods his head, dipping his chin with solemn confidence. Then, he begins to make his way down the steps to take his leave.

That is, until a shiver runs down his spine, a gut instinct alerting him of a formidable presence, and he swivels around to look behind him as his hands reach for his glaive, only to be blinded by a shining white light. What is even more concerning is, as he tries to block the light from his view, he notices that there is no reaction from anyone else present – in fact, there is no sound at all. The light begins to retract on its own, and as Mydei blinks through his stunned vision, he sees that the secretary, the guards lining the bottom of the stairs, the officials sitting in the front rows of the audience – all of them are frozen in place, mouths open in mid-conversation, hands stuck beside their heads in dramatic gestures, eyes wide open, unblinking. The scenery has not changed one bit, aside from the fact that everyone and everything is unmoving, yet he can still sense the formidable presence surrounding him.

Oh, I thought it was just you and me.

A voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere, speaks. Suddenly, a familiar voice – your shout – pierces through the silent space.

Mydei!

He turns to where he once looked in the crowd and spots your standing figure. But before he can sprint to you, or call you over, the voice speaks again.

Forgive me, I do not mean to scare either of you. I had only intended to speak to Mydeimos, however.

With that, your body slumps over and drops onto the ground. Without hesitation, Mydei swings his glaive and, with a snarl, holds it out in front of himself, body poised to attack.

What did you do to my wife!

You cannot fight me, for I will not appear in front of you. As for your wife, I have put her to sleep. I only wish to speak to you.

Concerning what matter?

But the voice does not speak again, and instead, his glaive is replaced, and a ball appears in one hand.

What is this! Answer me!

An elixir of immortality, made of a blade of grass found only in Tian. If you ingest this elixir, it will grant you endless life, and you will become one of us. Take this as a sign of my gratitude.

Before he can respond, there is another flash of that same blinding white light from earlier, and the chaos of the courtyard returns, everything resuming their intended ways. Only the ball in his hand, the lack of his weapon, and your unconscious form indicate that his conversation actually took place.

Following the award ceremony, Mydei is invited to stay as a guest in the Palace, but he declines, not even trying to come up with a reason to justify his need to return to his village immediately.

He returns before you do but only needs to wait for half an hour before he hears you running through the walkways of your estate, approaching your chamber where he is waiting for you. Even though he had encountered Yudi’s sons, all ten of them combined would pale in the face of the omnipotent force that had approached him, and he is sure you are as, if not more, distraught as he is.

When you come rushing in, he rises from the bed and catches you as you leap at him, your trembling body against his.

My love, are you alright!

I need to show you this.

You refuse to separate from him, though, so he squeezes his hand into the crevice between your neck and his chest, and presses the elixir against your skin. That causes you to jump back, and your expression can only be described as one of pure shock.

That cannot be.

Mydei purses his lips.

The voice said it can grant immortality.

That - that voice. Only Yudi and Wang Mu Niang Niang possess access to the elixir of immortality. It - it must have been her! How can this be!

If it is Wang Mu Niang Niang, she said this was a gift out of gratitude.

He watches you take shaky steps back to him. You are trained on the ball in his palm, in disbelief of the existence of it.

W-well… are you going to take it?

Mydei snorts.

Of course not. I would be a fool to separate us from each other for any longer. I also have no intention of becoming a liar or a hypocrite, when I have had little regard for the divine since my birth. Have you forgotten what your husband is like?

His words, mostly tart with a hint of lilting tease, manages to draw a huff of a chuckle from you.

I am home. And I plan to stay for a while.

He scans your face and frame. There are more lines on your face, no doubt a result of your labor and sleepless nights from watching over the village by yourself. Your hair has also gotten quite thin and is a lighter shade, washed out by the suns’ harsh light, and there is both a rigidness and a frailty to your aura, both of which he has never sensed before. You, too, take your time in observing your husband, who has indeed gotten quite tan, and his hair is even longer, reaching down to his hips. There are several patches of his skin that are charred and burned, and you wince at the notion of such extreme pain and beating. Some things remain the same, however, such as the chiseled lines of his muscles and the bold red of his tattoos.

Moreover, this beat of hesitation, of holding each other at an arm’s length away, stays constant as well. But it does not last as long anymore, when Mydei breaks first and draws you into his hold. This embrace is one saturated with warmth, longing, and satisfaction, your first genuine hug since the two of you parted ways over two years ago. You take in his presence, as he does with yours, and in this room, this space just for the two of you, it finally feels complete and whole again.

Later, before the both of you head out for dinner with the rest of the villagers, Mydei decides to hide the elixir in a wooden box that he conceals in the corner of the bedroom. Though neither of you may have a need for it, it may be safer to conceal its existence, especially from potential prying eyes and envious minds.

–

A week later, a Palace messenger arrives at your estate to announce the holding of a banquet that evening in honor of Mydei and his troop. Your husband scoffs at the invitation, but with a stern glare from you, he begrudgingly accepts. These days, Mydei deigns to leave your side, constantly following you about as you resume your village duties and responsibilities. You also make time to bring him around to show him what he has missed out on.

One dawn, you take him to visit Grandma Li’s grave. You bring a basket of pears, homemade rice cakes filled with peanut butter, and incense pillars as offerings, and Mydei kneels for a long time in front of the grave. Another lunchtime, the two of you go to collect peaches, and as it was a Sunday, the children who had no school to attend that day joined you with their parents and siblings. You also show him the rabbits that you raised, the babies now fully grown with fluffy white coats and beady red eyes. And the night before the Palace’s banquet, your village hosts its own at your estate, and many of Mydei’s men come over. Mydei sits with his disciple Feng Meng, while you mill about to pay your respects to the village’s elders and to extend your appreciation to the soldiers present for their loyalty toward your husband.

You pass by a table occupied by a large family of seven. You are especially close to this family’s twins who are both ten-years-old, though not out of personal bias, but because they are relentless in their pursuit for your affection. As so, when the twins notice you, they scream out to you.

Eat with us! Eat with us!

You laugh, shaking your head with a soft smile.

Sorry, little ones, but I must eat with the chief tonight. I will join you for a meal another day.

They huff, crossing their plush arms across their chests. Then, as twins are with their shared thoughts and intuition, they share a cheerful look before turning back to you. The older of the two, a girl, speaks first, before the younger one, a boy, follows up, and the two continue to alternate back and forth.

We heard something interesting at school yesterday!

It is about the chief!

And we heard it from the ninth prince himself!

The prince said the chief had a forbidden medicine –

– a medicine that would make him young forever!

But we read in our books that that kind of medicine only exists in Tian.

Yet the prince looked awfully serious. Is there something wrong with the ninth prince?

Or is the prince right? That the elixir of immortality is real?

You pat their heads while maintaining your expression.

Lower your voices and hush now. If you are caught speaking ill of the Imperial Family, you will lose your tongues. Eat, before dinner gets cold.

You bid your farewell, and head back to your table. As you walk, though, you mull over the twins��� words.

As much as you despise your upbringing as a child of the divine, you find that the hard skills you learned since young have been more helpful than not throughout your life, even after you abandoned your post. Like now, you know not to ignore the signs. Twins are fortuitous, especially boy-girl pairs, and given that they brought up the elixir of all subjects tells you that Wang Mu Niang Niang’s gift is not something that can be so easily forgotten or discarded. You must exercise caution and remain vigilant, all while exhibiting inconspicuousness.

When you return to Mydei’s side, you realize Feng Meng is gone. You ask about the latter’s whereabouts, to which your husband responds that his disciple went to the bathroom. You run your hand through his hair, tracing your fingernail through his braids that you did this morning, before you excuse yourself to change into something warmer.

You pad through the darkened walkways, stopping whenever you run into a guard or a lady-in-waiting. You ask if they have seen Feng Meng, and you follow each of their instructions, until you realize you are navigating towards your husband’s office. Before you make the bend that would allow you to see the office, you wait, extinguishing your presence as you have done when tending to the rabbits and channeling your foresight. When your soul is quiet, everything around gets louder, and though it is faint, there is a vanishing trace of disdain that you can sense that stains the path to Mydei’s office. The flickering nature of the presence tells you there must be another human nearby, one skilled but not yet masterful. But before you can fetch Mydei for help, you must confirm your suspicions.

With quick and light steps, you glide to the old willow that drapes itself over the office building. From behind the trunk, you can peer inside one of the windows, though it does take some effort as it is only wedged open by a fraction and there is no light inside. From what you can tell, there are several unfurled scrolls strewn across his desk, and if you strain your ears, you can hear the shuffling and rearranging of the items on the shelves closest to you. While you do not know who this intruder is, as it could be someone other than Feng Meng, it is clear that someone is there.

You hurry back and try your best to keep up the silencing of your qi, despite the thrumming of anxiety that courses through your blood.

Mydei catches onto your intentions quickly, as he notices your appearance has not changed at all upon your return. You note that Feng Meng’s absence persists. He comes up to you, but instead of directing him to where the intruder is, you loop your arms through his and gently urge him to follow you around the villagers and soldiers. After all, you do not know if the intruder is acting alone, and if not, there could be those watching your husband closely.

As you pace around, you quietly inform him.

Someone is ransacking your office. I believe they are looking for the elixir.

How would they know about it?

Even the children have heard about it. At the very least, it is known that the ninth prince has been talking about its potential existence in the Capital.

How would the ninth prince know about it?

It is a good question, so you ponder it briefly.

I have a hypothesis, if you will entertain me.

Please, go ahead.

Remember how I was awake initially? It could be that the Imperial Family was also awake.

How could I have missed that?

No, not in the same way that you and I were awake. We could move about, even under Wang Mu Niang Niang’s spell. I was most likely able to withstand her spell because of my tolerance to divinity. By that logic, then, it is possible that the Imperial Family and priests were also able to retain their consciousness during her appearance, but were solely limited to that.

That is enough said on your part. The rest, Mydei understands. It is his turn, then, to formulate a strategy.

I will take the direct route to our bedroom. Veil yourself and go from the back, around the washroom. I will leave first, or else they will be suspicious of you.

He rubs his thumb across your cheek, a gesture of reassurance, and he makes some conversation with a few of the elders to his side before he goes on his way. You spend even longer lingering around the villagers, but also with the soldiers, to see if any of them are accomplices. But there is no sense of hostility or hatred from them. The more you investigate, hovering within the soldiers’ presence, the more confident you are that none of them are involved. That leaves you with two options: the intruder is acting alone, confirming their identity as Feng Meng, or alongside members of the Security Bureau.

You sigh. You must go now.

–

Mydei is broiling with anger. There is no need to hide his presence, as he wants to make it known that he is furious. His people have long suffered at the hands of the current empire, the village having been conquered during his incompetent father’s reign, and while he has tried to make peace with the Emperor, he has never once forgiven him and the Holy Nation. Now, he is being targeted for something he did not ask for – if they wanted it, they could have just asked for it! He shakes his head and rolls out his wrists, preparing to draw his blade and kill all that invades his home.

You are too reckless, Mydei.

Mydei swings, but misses.

Deliverer!

The Head of the Security Bureau steps out of the shadow, a black mask covering all but his piercing blue eyes. Had Mydei not worked with the Head before, the latter’s sudden appearance would have startled him.

You fool! You have always been the Emperor’s dog!

Mydei, it is you who is the dog. You need to be subjugated. The Emperor will no longer tolerate defiance from you or your village.

Defiance! How laughable!

This is not a laughing matter.

This is no matter in the first place.

I am afraid, then, that this is not something we can talk through.

Mydei has no doubt that he can defeat Phainon. His only fear is that he will not be fast enough.

–

It seems you were right in following the signs because you are exceptionally lucky. The moon lights your path so that you can navigate your way through your abode with ease and speed. So far, there does not seem to be anybody trailing you, and the intruder is nowhere to be seen, so they are not targeting you either. At this rate, it is likely that the intruder has left Mydei’s office and is searching elsewhere.

You take a deep breath out of relief when you arrive at your chamber and realize that no one else is present. There is only one entrance to your bedroom, so you take extra care to be silent as you come around from behind the building, and when the coast is clear, you sneak into your room. You pay no mind that the inside is dark, as you know the placement of everything by heart. You approach the corner of the room where Mydei hid the wooden box inside a large jar with bamboo planks stacked on top. You remove everything one by one, hurrying but prioritizing the need for silence above all else. But, again, it seems luck is on your side, and you are able to retrieve the elixir without a hitch. You move everything back to their original placements, except for the medicinal ball that you tightly clutch in your fist.

All is well, until you step out of your bedroom. 

You cannot help but scream when you see Mydei, bloody and battered, fighting against Phainon, bruised and limping.

No!

Both of them cease their movements, surprised by your presence. But before either of them can come to, something surges up from beneath you, and a hand flies up to grab you by the neck, limiting your ability to breathe without delay.

It hurts. It is an excruciating pain of being crushed under a heavy weight. You have heard that suffocating is akin to drowning, which feels like being roasted and burned from the inside out. You wonder if Mydei has ever experienced pain like this, perhaps when he received those patches of permanently seared skin. In your choking, murky view, you can make out the blurred outline of Feng Meng, his face contorted in an ugly, deceitful frown as he breathes heavily. And through your pounding ears, you barely make out his words.

I know you have it! If you just give it to me, Madam, your life will be spared!

Even if you could talk, you would not answer. However, since you cannot speak anyway, you demonstrate your refusal by flailing, thrashing your legs in every direction possible and beating Feng Meng’s arms with your fists. You know that you are only wasting your energy, but since Feng Meng is not ready to kill you yet, you desperately take in shallow gasps of air as well. You can hear Mydei screaming your name over and over again in between silvery screeches of gold colliding against brass, and by now, you think your guards should be on their way to address the commotion. But even their arrival might be too late for you, and it seems your luck has run out.

Feng Meng’s grip on you tightens, preventing air from entering you entirely. You probably look like a fish out of water, uselessly gaping your mouth and sputtering drool all over.

Madam, I will only ask you once more, or I will take it by force! Please hand over the elixir!

It is no use. You will not give him the elixir, and he needs to retrieve it by any means. With no compromise in sight, the two of you are at a standstill. That means one of you has to take action.

Without another thought, with the last remnants of your fading strength, you bring your shaky fist to your greying lips and release your clutch, dropping the ball into your mouth. 

Then you swallow.

It is as if time has stopped, once again. Everyone else, including Mydei, is frozen in the middle of their actions, and only you are able to move for however long you have. You remove Feng Meng’s chokehold on you, and heave in desperate breaths.

Your mind immediately begins to clear, and that is made apparent when you sense her. Now that you know who she is, her omnipresence, preceded by a white light, is less frightening.

That was not intended for your use.

You take another deep, shuddering breath.

My apologies, Wang Mu Niang Niang. But I figured it would be better than handing it over to the likes of Feng Meng. He would have eaten it on the spot.

That was not a call for you to make.

But you knew this would happen. I know the divine are capable of seeing into the future.

You are too powerful for your own good. Perhaps this was the best outcome, after all.

Seeing that you are still on your own, you rush to Mydei’s side, placing a hand on his cheek. His eyes are wide, golden and rouge irises twinkling under the moonlight. His mouth is wide open, as he was probably in the midst of screaming at you to Just hand it over! There are blood splatters that cover his temple and neck, and you use your sleeve to rub those away, before peppering kisses onto the corners of his lips.

Mortal, I will allow you to bring two things from this earth to the moon, where you will join me.

You pause in the middle of your kissing to respond, icily.

If you are pitying me, I will have none of it.

Are you in any position to refuse pity? Regardless, you do not have a choice. This elixir is of my making, so you must obey my commands. On the moon you will reside, and every year on this day, I will grant you the opportunity to see your beloved on this earth.

You leave one last kiss on your husband’s nose before you step back. Although you will be able to see him once a year, it feels… strange. You had promised yourself that, upon Mydei’s return, the two of you would be able to return to your normal routine and only be subjected to a few hours’ worth of separation every day. Even now, as you let your eyes linger over every centimeter of his face, you can tell that much of him has changed throughout his campaign, and before you have the chance to memorize his new contours and creases, it is you who must leave, by divinity’s demand, and you will never be able to know him as well as you once did.

How strange and twisted, you think, but for some reason, there is a distinct sense of acceptance within you. Perhaps the past two years have tested you, and you no longer fear fate’s outcomes because, at the very least, Mydei did the impossible in defeating Tian’s dwellers and survived. It might also be that you know Wang Mu Niang Niang is already demonstrating as much mercy as the heavens will allow, so even if you were to throw a fit or beg for more, the goddess herself would not be able to do anything. Or maybe, at one indistinguishable point, you unconsciously resigned yourself to the divine, and knowing that it will do anything it can to torment you, you have carried that grief along and never once set it down. This sudden unraveling of your life and the way you have known it to be has simply allowed that grief to surface, and you can only shake your head when faced with the darkened, disintegrating state of your heart.

You proceed to shuffle backwards, away from Mydei, until he is barely out of reach. You take the golden cuff that holds his front braid together, before you walk to the nearby courtyard where the rabbits reside. You uncover their burrow, unrooting purple forget-me-nots and creeping buttercups, and reach in to pull out the runt of the newest litter, no different from a solid figurine in your palm.

I am ready.

How strange, your choices. Explain to me, mortal.

There is not much to it. I suppose I find sentimentality in things that keep me going.

How bold of you, to not tell the truth in front of the likes of me.

You could force it out of me, if you so wish.

You watch as a staircase and railing of stardust, moonlight, and cosmic nothingness appear before your eyes in the middle of the courtyard, spiraling upwards and into the sky, ending somewhere far beyond where the moon hangs. You stare at Mydei’s braid cuff and the baby rabbit, which you notice is beginning to shiver, and you tuck both of them in the inside of your robe before ascending the first steps of the staircase.

As you climb, you notice the earth below you gradually resuming its time. A breeze brushes past the tips of your ears, and you delight in the perfume of fresh mint, blooming magnolias, and rose peonies it carries. In the distance, an owl hoots, and a pair of magpies flutter down to a pond you cannot see. You lose yourself to the natural order of the earth because, soon, you will leave this land.

Suddenly, a yell of your name draws you back. You lean over the railing and see that below, Mydei is gazing up at you. You can still make out the expression on his face – one of loss, desperation, and frustration. He is biting on his lower lip, and there are divots between his eyebrows. His eyes appear especially glossy and bright underneath the moon’s light.

Where are you going?

To the moon.

Can you come back down to me?

I cannot.

Your husband takes a few seconds before replying, and as you wait, the sound of grass blades ruffling and bats flying fill the silence.

I see. Then can I come up to you?

Wang Mu Niang Niang intercedes.

No. You will live out the rest of your life and die on this earth.

You and Mydei share a solemn look. Neither of you can say anything, as both of you have begun to weep, quiet tears clumping together eyelashes and rolling down the apples of your cheeks. But Mydei is also aware of the unforgiving reality that you may disappear at sudden, so with a shaky, breaking voice, he attempts to carry on the flow of the conversation, clinging onto any chance to hear his wife’s voice again.

When will I next see you?

Whenever the moon rises.

I will look up at the night sky every evening. And in person?

Every year, on this day, at this time.

I will meet with you every year. I swear.

I look forward to it, my love.

Are you cold? I am sure it is cold on the moon.

Do not worry. I have all that I need.

Wang Mu Niang Niang intercedes once more.

Enough of your idle chatter!

But the two of you carry on, because both of you have realized that Wang Mu Niang Niang is kind, and no longer are the two of you fearful of Tian or the divine or divinity as a whole. Rather, in the last, ticking seconds that you have, it is most important to cherish and express the unyielding, everlasting love you have for each other, as husband and wife. With soft, longing smiles, you utter the same sentence together.

We are forever –

– under the same sky.

Both of you press your fingers to your lips before extending your arms out towards each other, hoping that the full extent of your yearning, love, and devotion will be conveyed and reach the other. Then, with a flash of blinding white light, you disappear from Mydei’s sight.

You, of course, can still see him, but you will yourself to turn your chin away and climb up, up, up so that by tomorrow night, you will have made it to the moon, and Mydei will be able to see you from the window of your shared bedroom.

The world resumes, as if you were never there at all, as if time never stopped flowing. But Mydei knows you were real, are real. He reminds himself he need only survive tonight alone, and tomorrow, he will see you again, for the two of you can never be apart for too long.

And he is right because, by the decree of the heavenly gods above and their kindred spirits down on the earth in the forms of the water, leaves, wind, and destiny, you and Mydeimos are for each other, to always be intertwined and inseparable in this vast, vast universe.

–

“Lao Lao, why do we eat mooncakes during the Mid-Autumn Festival?” A little boy, no more than six- or seven-years-old sits at the dining table, feet kicking back and forth as they dangle off the edge of a chair meant for an adult. On the table, there is an array of emptied pots and plates, evidence of a large and festive meal devoured. Sitting directly across from him on the other side is his maternal grandmother.

“Because the lady on the moon likes them,” the grandma replies, preoccupied with tearing apart the packaging of a mooncake, which she hands to her grandson.

“Why do we care about the lady on the moon?”

The grandma’s eyebrows furrow. “Aye, Duo Duo, watch what you say! It is an important cultural celebration.”

“But why?”

“So many questions! She saved her husband, alright?”

“What happened to her husband?”

The grandson watches his grandma pause before recalling, “He was murdered by his student with a club made out of a peach tree.”

“Woah, that’s oddly specific. Did the husband love the lady on the moon?”

“Of course! Do you know nothing about the Mid-Autumn Festival? Before his death, the husband would burn incense and stare up at the moon every night to see his wife, and every year, today was the only day he could meet his wife in person. That is why we honor our ancestors during this festival, because we are closest to them now.”

The grandson shrugs, having lost interest halfway through his grandma’s explanation, romance lost on his inexperienced shoulders. “Sounds weird.”

“Duo Duo!”

The grandson ignores his grandma and pries open his mooncake. “Wait, Lao Lao, can you eat the yolk for me?”

“Aiyah, just eat it all yourself!”

[ag40249]

did you get enough love, my little dove why do you cry?

[harmonysanreads]

Thinking about Yandere!Mydei braiding your hair. This mighty, invincible man removing pieces of his armory, so that they won't have a chance of harming even a strand of hair.

He handles it as if he was tasked with keeping the clouds in his grasp, each movement of his fingers measured, strength forbidden from flowing without his command. His concentration prevents him from blinking altogether, as such, the final product appears to be clumsier, as though the craft of amateur hands. It can be seen as hints in his eyes, he's terrified of pulling too hard, creating unwanted knots betwixt the locks.

Your amusement would beget laughs had you not been numbed by the same hands, the grip that brought so much harm now frightened at the prospect of twisting your hair wrong. You can offer nothing more than blinks as the Crown Prince scrambles for accessories, lips pursed in comical pondering about which ones should complete the braid.

You don't critique how you end up looking by the end of this fit of whimsy, you make no protest as he resumes holding you close wordlessly. An odd apology, even if you don't accept it by heart, you know pretending to do so will bring less pain to both of your souls.

[harmeu]

ARGUMENTS 

(HSR X READER) (ANGST)

(Amphoreus Men)

(GN!READER)

MYDEI: (His devotion to his fight which results in neglect.)

You couldn’t remember the last time you and your beloved spouse had talked to each other. It was as if Mydei’s mind was constantly on things that neglected you heavily. Even a simple “How are you today”  would’ve been enough at this point. It hurt a lot. As if millions of daggers pierced you everytime Mydei walked past without saying anything. You were his lover for God’s sake.

Mydei was in the training room punching dummies with ease, letting them break into shards as they thumped onto the ground, his knuckles bleeding heavily from the constant fight.

You stepped in peeking through the small opening of the door with your wide gaze contemplating to yourself if you should walk in and say something or not. 

Eventual acceptance of the option ‘yes’ overthrew your mind so you walked in and Mydei’s keen senses picked up on it immediately.

“What is it.” His gruff reply made it sound like he was annoyed. (Which he probably was.) 

“You’ve been busy lately.” You mumbled out moving from one foot to another a bit nervous to how he was going to reply.

“Of course I am. You know my duties.” Mydei went back to smashing his fists against the solid wooden dummies as you winced at the sight and decided to walk up, up to him.

“I miss you.” You murmured out making Mydei freeze slightly and you could’ve sworn he softened. But as fast as it came it vanished. Mydei was back to his tense state. 

“You should know everything I deal with in a singular day.”

“But I’m your lover!” You exclaimed out flinching at your own tone of voice and words making Mydei turn looking at you in your eye for the first time. 

“That doesn’t matter.” He huffed out. Okay wow. Now it was your turn to be cruel.

“No wonder everyone finds you difficult.” You spat back leaving the door slamming heavily making the walls vibrate as Mydei stared dumbfounded at the shut door clenching his fists.

PHANION: (Accusations that result in anger.)

Phanion was a gentle soul with you. The perfect boyfriend in your eyes. Though as days passed you had a weird gut feeling. As if he was talking to someone other than you. Not possible. Right. The constant ‘they’re just a friend’ sounded like a lie. But you didn’t have any proof. Not yet at least.

Phanion was sitting on your local bench quietly reading as you walked up to him with a half lidded gaze of suspicion. Feeling your hard gaze Phanion sighed, shutting his book and standing up to match your height.

“Don’t give me that look.” Phanion murmured frowning with a pained expression on his face making you feel a hint of guilt. 

“It’s just that you’re constantly not letting me meet your friends at all. As if you’re hiding something from me.” Your fists clenched, eyeing up at Phanion as he narrowed his own gaze at your words.

“I do not let you meet them in order for them to not do anything to you darling.” Lies. You repeated in your head. You were being unreasonable. You knew that. But your gut feeling never failed you. 

“I don’t believe you.” You said spitefully making Phanion droop in hurt as you frowned at his reaction. You were expecting anger.

“Why don’t you trust me?” Phanion said holding your hand. He really had to pull that card out didn’t he.

“I do..I just.” As if knowing you were in the wrong, the only option left in your mind was to get out of the scene immediately. You let go of Phanions hand shakily leaving Phanion standing next to the bench alone as he stared at your slowly disappearing figure with a pained look.

ANAXA: (His anger towards the Gods.)

You knew your spouse's hatred towards the Gods. It never bothered you really because the people of Amphoreus worshipped titans rather than the Aeons above. Though Anaxa seemed to be solely focused on that singular emotion of hatred removing everything else in his life. Including you.

You were sitting in bed with Anaxa as he fixed up his eyepatch with his usual elegance as he eyed the several books in front of him that talked about the several elements the Gods gave down to the mortals.

“Anaxa.” You mumbled out tilting your head as Anaxa hummed out a reply as you frowned. “Why are you so focused on this subject?” 

Anaxa sighed at your words as if he was contemplating you speaking out on this matter and turned his gaze towards you. 

“You don’t know what these Aeons have done to our people. They’re vultures.” Anaxa spat out with seeming elegance despite his harsh words. 

“I feel like you’re forgetting about everything to focus on this.” You said a hushed whisper as Anaxa narrowed his gaze.

“That’s utter lies darling. I have enough mindspace to deal with everything.” You stared at him blankly. You doubted it at this point honestly.

“I feel like you’re lying.” Silence dawned between the two of you at your words as if rendering Anaxa speechless from your statement. Which added onto your doubt from his quietness. 

Silently Anaxa grabbed his things and left. 

Did he just storm off?

I post in like once a century oopsie (Since I don't know anything about the characters personalities I went off looks and the trailers)

[starcurtain]

Another Phaidei Fic I Want to Read

It's the political arranged marriage AU but make it (ooooo) complicated~

Crown Prince Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos was born under a dark star, with a prophecy of abject despair uttered at the moment of his birth: Mydeimos will be the last king of Kremnos. The city-state will fall, her people will be lost, and the glory of Strife entirely will fade into nameless oblivion. Year after year, the prophets repeat the same warnings: Mydeimos is cursed, and he will bring the downfall of their kingdom and all its inhabitants.

But no one in Kremnos knew just how cursed their prince was until the day the regent's war council convinced their king to do the unthinkable: If Mydeimos was sacrificed, perhaps their prophecy of destruction could be averted and Kremnos saved...

Only Mydei couldn't even die like he was supposed to. No matter how many times he was mortally wounded, the boy just kept standing up--not even Thanatos would take him. That glorious death in battle that all Kremnoan warriors were expected to achieve--even this most central aspect of Mydei's own culture rejected him.

This life of betrayal and total loneliness, with the promise of eventually destroying everything he knew and cared for, seemed inescapable--until one day, when Mydeimos had already passed the age of majority (and would have long since been allowed to challenge his father for the crown if it weren't for the despair prophesied to be his reign), a new vision was shared among all of their people's seers: There was a way to avert their kingdom's impending destruction and save their people. "Only the son of Aedes Elysiae can deliver Castrum Kremnos from the dark tide and restore the true king to her throne."

Aedes Elysiae is a tiny city-state with nowhere near enough military might to defend against a full onslaught from the Kremnoans. But the risk that the Elysian prince could be harmed--and all of Kremnos' future lost in the process--is too high to engage in a traditional war of conquest. Although it runs contrary to the Kremnoans' very natures, if it means securing their kingdom's future and hiding the truth of their foreseen fate forever, they will engage in any manner of subterfuge and political maneuvering necessary.

Namely, by using the threat of war to force Aedes Elysiae to surrender their crown prince to a permanent and binding political alliance. If the Elysians want to avoid obliteration by the military might of the Kremnoans, they will tie the destiny of their crown prince to the Strifewalkers' through blood and oath--a marriage to Kremnos' own Prince Mydeimos. In this way, perhaps the curse can finally be outweighed by the glory of a savior.

Enter Phainon: the pride and joy of Aedes Elysiae, the golden sun to his people, loved by everyone who knows him. Although his heart has always been soft and romantic, rebelling fiercely at the idea of marrying someone he's never met and doesn't love, there is nothing Phainon won't do to protect his people and his kingdom--even if it means sacrificing himself.

So Phainon agrees to leave his family and homeland behind, and makes the miserable journey to Castrum Kremnos to meet his destiny... as well as his new husband.

Too bad Mydei wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Disgusted by his father's willingness to forsake Kremnos' sacred principles of pride and integrity by using underhanded tactics and falsehoods to force Aedes Elysiae's prince into compliance, Mydei refuses to even acknowledge his marriage to Phainon, let alone look in his fellow prince's direction.

Which wouldn't be a problem, honestly, if it weren't for the fact that poor Phainon is smitten within days.

When the Kremnoans were strong-arming Aedes Elysiae's king into giving up his beloved son, why had no one thought to just tell Phainon that Prince Mydeimos was so... so... upright and honest and brave and powerful and gorgeous and straightforward and humorous and quick-witted and honorable and also gorgeous? (Phainon thinks perhaps this last point should be repeated a few more times for good measure.) Truly, Phainon might have gone willingly if anyone had just thought to show him a portrait of his husband-to-be in advance!

While Phainon struggles to catch his own husband's attention and soften Mydei's seemingly unbreakable stone heart, Mydei struggles with his father's demands to keep his curse hidden, to not reveal the omen of destruction lurking behind this sham of a marriage. Though having to lie shreds every last tatter of pride Mydei has, if this prince of Aedes Elysiae discovers the truth, that he's been brought here solely to counteract Mydei's prophesied inability to reign, Kremnos' enemies will know it within the hour. A single weakness will be all the world needs to turn on the Kremnoans, to bring Mydei's terrible destiny to pass.

And... And if Phainon learns the truth about Mydeimos, about his curse, about how he is an abomination that not even death will accept, about the misery he is destined to bring, about the failures that are sure to come, about how he is hated by his country, his people, his own family--then Mydei will lose the first person who has ever smiled freely at him, ever wanted to walk beside him, ever spoke kind words in his direction...

There is no way Phainon would ever look at him the same again.

There is no way Phainon would stay.

And that would be cruelest fate of all.

(What Mydei and Castrum Kremnos don't know is that Phainon has a secret of his own: He's not royalty by blood in the slightest. He was a penniless orphan who just got lucky enough to be taken in by the castle and end up, through twists in his own destiny, to be raised by the childless rulers of Elysiae from nothing but the kindness of their hearts.

There is no son of Aedes Elysiae to save Castrum Kremnos from its fate--and the dark tide comes for all.

But visions bestowed by the gods must not be doubted. Perhaps the combined efforts of two lonely people--the one who forsook his own land for love and the one who could only be loved by someone from another land--will see the sun of Aedes Elysiae delivered to Kremnos once more...

And put a true and honest king upon her throne at last.)

[m-inntii]

[BEWARE!! SPOILERS FOR AMPHOREUS AND GAY MEN!!!,!,

MYDEI AND PHAINON YOU GAY LIL SHITS YOU AIN’ FUCKIN SLICK I SEE YA.

Phainon hesitating when leaving Mydei, wanting to help him before leaving anyway, and then being an anxious mess outside, being shown worrying about him every moment, like 😭

(also ignoring the fact iT’S FUCKING IMPLIED HE WAS GONG TO SACRIFICE HERSELF I THINK?? IDK TAKE MY WORDS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT CUZ I DIDNT UNDERSTAND SHIT ABT WHAT HE WAS GONNA DO BUT LIKE BRO SXPECT AN ENTIRE RANT TO HIM AT SOME POINT.)

Phainon SPECIFCALLY told Mydei NOT to come to his ceremony because he should heal up, and he still did ANYWAY cause he was WORRIED. LIKE- Self-deprecating and all that Mydei is sure but HE CAME TO HIS CEREMONY WHILE INJURED BECAUSE HE WAS WRORRIED FOR HIM LIKE…bruv you ain’ beating no allegations

Phainon beign the only person Mydei can truly spar without holding back, and eveN SPARRING FOR 10 FUCKING DAYS STRAIGHT ONCE??? WHAT???

ALSO THIS

LIKE OH MY GOD THEY CARE SM FOR EACH OTHEER KIKE BRO I’M CRYINg

also you cannot tell me that Phainon is depressed in some way. He lost his entire hometown apparently, his entire mission is fueled purely out of a want for revenge, and the only reason he took up the role of the chye so heirs is because it gave him a purpose like…lol he’s so depressed. Mydei please help your boy

ALSO APPARENT THERE’S A MEMORY CORE OF PHAINON BASICALLY CALLING MYDEI HOT??? LIKE??

[influx-shadow]

Holding Up The Skies (And Our Love) Forever — Phainon ✕ Mydei

It was destiny, for one to hold the sky for the rest of millennia to come and the other to watch over the people.

But how could he accept it… He didn't back then, and he still couldn't now.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

ship> phainon x mydei (hsr)

warnings/disclaimers> character death, angst, hurt no comfort, probably occ (sorry), english isn't my first language and my sis beta read this, took some creative liberties, and it's based on a theory I saw (link)

cross-posted on ao3 (here)

song> war without reason (piano ver.) by voidhost on yt (here)

The calm sound of the water flowing down the multiple fountains was a hash difference to Mydei’s chaotic thoughts. A warrior like him shouldn’t be having such sentimental thoughts, that was not his style either, if he saw him this way…

“King Mydeimos, is everything alright?” A maiden asked, holding a tray with grapes and wine.

“Yes, I am… And don’t refer to me with titles. I have told you many times.” Mydei said, taking the golden cup and chugging down a long sip, the maiden apologized and bowed before leaving, never turning her back at Mydei. He hated how people now used high titles when talking to him, of the power he consumed after the fall of Nikador, and now he was crowned king of Amphoreus. It was part of the natural order, even if becoming akin to a god was not his desire, it was his fate after being chosen by that damned prophecy.

Should he even still refer to it as a prophecy? After all, it became true; the Chrysos Heirs ended victorious against the corrupted divinity, now ruling and protecting the Eternal Land. But it has been so long now… It was part of their ancient history, but it still felt like yesterday to all the Chrysos Heirs…

Well, those who can still speak about it…

Mydei looked out the balcony, staring at the corpse of the “Throne of Worlds”, the ancient holder of the sky, Kephale, it blended into the scenery, covered in beautiful fauna, even from afar he could see the vines and batches of gorgeous flowers. The Titans' corpse now served as a “stronghold” to the new keeper of the sky, an old friend.

Perhaps he should make a visit.

—

“We must hurry, we have to make it before the sky falls!” The blue-eyed warrior spoke as they all fought through hordes of enemies, they couldn’t waste time, if they didn’t take the Coreflame before the Titan fully awoke from its slumber, the world would be destroyed.

“We will buy you guys time! Mem, we can’t let the creatures get past this point!” The Trailblazer exclaimed, taking out their bat as the little Memosprite nodded. And with their reassuring smiles, Mydei and Phainon climbed the Titans' spine like a staircase, but still being careful in their steps. Staring in awe at the black crystal spikes that had formed inside the creature due to corruption.

“It’s strangely beautiful, don’t you think?” Phainon asked.

“You have a strange definition of beauty, then.”

“Everything has its own unique beauty. Sure, it’s corrupted, but it is mesmerizing to look at. Maybe we can bring a piece for the blacksmiths to study, and maybe make jewels from it. Like a ring.” Phainon laughed. “I think black would suit you.”

“Whatever you say…” Mydei rolled his eyes, clearly flustered by Phainon’s suggestion. A ring sounded nice, to make their relation a public and real thing, maybe do ‘normal couple stuff’ without the worries and burdens of being a Chrysos Heir. A world where everyone was free from the cursed stare of the gods, something they will achieve today.

They continued up the Titan’s spine, and now in front of them the Titan's core stood.

“Let’s not waste time and end this once and for all!” Phainon shouted, Mydei nodded as they took out their weapons.

But it couldn’t be that easy. The corruption was akin to a parasite, it needed to keep its host alive, so it spread around the room, to capture and stop them. The two reacted quickly, dogging its attacks and preparing weapons.

“Buy me time, Mydei.”

“With pleasure.”

“Don’t risk yourself.” Phainon took a deep breath and whispered. “You must see the future of Amphoreus.”

—

“Phainon, you must be made aware of what will happen when you take Kephale’s Coreflame.” Aglaea spoke, her voice ever serious.

“What do you mean Aglaea?”

“Holding the sky is an eternal task. If, at any point, the Throne of Worlds removes a finger from holding the skies, Amphoreus will be doomed to its end.” Aglaea explained. “This is why Kephale put themselves in an eternal slumber, to make the eternal task less painful.”

“...” Phainon took a deep breath, processing the golden woman's words. “You say that, when I take the Coreflame, I will slumber as well?”

Tense silence filled the room like a dense fog, the weaver nodded. The gray haired stood low, thinking of all the implications, but he couldn’t back down, it was his sacred duty thanks to the prophecy.

“It is my fate, then…” He let out a pained laugh. “If I must spend countless eternities holding up the skies to keep Amphoreus safe, I will. Even if I will be bound to watch them live in the so desired peace from afar.”

He stopped to take a breath, his face showing his true sadness.

“Just… Don’t tell Mydei.”

Another understanding nod from Aglaea.

—

Mydei punched the crystal tentacles that approached him keeping their attention, shattering them into fine bits, Phainon saw the perfect chance to strike, and with a decisive stab, his claymore was now nailed to the floor, passing right through the center of the core. The immediate flow of power made the earth tremble, the last Titan was down. The crystals stopped and shattered, the corrupted parasites now dead.

“You did it!” Mydei exclaimed with a smile, it was over. But as he got closer to Phainon, his smile was gone.

The gray haired stood still as he absorbed the Coreflame, the bright light emanating from his body as the energy flowed to the sword and into the Titans' corpse. Mydei was about to utter, when Phainon finally spoke.

“We did it… But it seems you will be the only one able to return to the feast.” A weak, pained laugh escaped his lips.

“What do you mean? We’ll both got to back to the city and—”

“I can’t leave, Mydeimos…” Phainon interrupted him, trying to hold back any tears. “If I stop the flow of energy, the sky will fall. I’ll be here for eternity, watching the people of Amphoreus from afar, protecting them from their own skies.”

“No! There has to be another way!” Mydei exclaimed, how could he accept this? He couldn’t and Phainon knew that, so that’s why he stalled the topic.

“There isn’t.” Aglaea’s voice echoed, behind her were Castorice, the Trailblazer and Tribbie, each one with a more worried expression than the last. “But a way to ease the excruciating agony is…”

“Inducing an equally eternal sleep to the Throne of Worlds.” Castorice spoke, now that she was the Hand of Shadow, it was fitting for her to do the job.

“D-don’t worry Snowy, we will watch over you and make sure you have the most splendid of dreams…” Tribbie couldn’t help but cry and run to hug Phainon, even if he couldn’t hug her back.

They all expressed words of farewell, Mydei was silent, he needed time, it was clear. So they silently left the room, giving the two a moment.

“I’m sorry for not telling you earlier… I—” Phainon was stopped by Mydei’s sudden embrace. The blond had never shown affection like this, but with his crying head between the gray’s neck and shoulder, it was silent for even longer.

“I love you… I love you, so much…” Mydei cried, holding Phainon like he would vanish in the wind.

“I know, and I love you more…”

A heartfelt kiss and tears.

As Castorice muttered the enchantment, Phainon smiled and closed his eyes for the rest of eternity.

Those were their last heartfelt words, that was their last kiss, that was the last time Mydei saw those blue eyes, that warm smile, heard his laugh…

The Phainon he loved was gone as the sun rose in a new and free era.

The one both wanted to see together…

—

He looked at the black ring that hanged on his neck, so he wouldn't lose it and see it all the time. Perhaps he was right, black does suit him.

“I brought you flowers. They remind me of your eyes, they even have the sun.” Mydei placed the bouquet next to the claymore and delivered a soft kiss on the others' forehead. “But yours are still more beautiful, and shine more than the sun itself…”

“I love you…” He muttered, collapsing on his knees as the tears fell. “I miss you…”

AN> hope all like this! I was sad when I wrote it :( If Amphoreus ends like this, I WILL cry.

thx for reading, have a nice day and take care of yourself.

[lovegasmic]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 ꨄ︎

note: you must click the links then click search all of tumblr since many posts are hidden, or you won't see all fanfics. here you can find a mix of angst / fluff / smut.

౨ৎ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒

requests ⭒ events / aus ⭒ beautiful art ⭒ onlyfans ⭒ other fandoms ⭒ patchworkmahito on ao3 ⭒ yaps ⭒

౨ৎ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

choso ⭒ kento ⭒ satoru ⭒ shoko ⭒ suguru ⭒ sukuna ⭒ toji ⭒ ( megumi ⭒ yuuji ⭒ yuuta ⭒ ⁞ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 )

౨ৎ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

aventurine ⭒ blade ⭒ boothill ⭒ dan heng ⭒ gallagher ⭒gepard ⭒ jing yuan ⭒ luka ⭒ mydei ⭒ phainon ⭒ sampo ⭒ sunday ⭒ welt ⭒

౨ৎ 𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐕𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

alhaitham ⭒ ayato ⭒ baizhu ⭒ capitano ⭒ childe ⭒diluc⭒ itto ⭒ kaeya ⭒ kaveh ⭒ neuvillette ⭒ pantalone ⭒ scaramouche ⭒ wriothesley ⭒ xiao ⭒ zhongli ⭒

౨ৎ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 / 𝐍𝟏𝟎𝟗 𝐙𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

caleb ⭒ rafayel ⭒ sylus ⭒ xavier ⭒ zayne ⭒

[akutasoda]

"let me kiss that anger away"

synopsis - you're mad at them and they cant stand it, but they can only hope their affection is enough to win you back as soon as possible

includes - jing yuan, argenti, mydei, phainon

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, comfort, slight angst, phainon + mydei may be a bit ooc, wc - 1.9k

jing yuan ★↷

unfortunately for you, although it may be perceived as fortunate, being the general's partner meant you had unconsciously signed yourself up to be his very own personal pillow.

jing yuan always truly lived up to his title as the “lazing general” and his laziness was forcefully rubbing off on you. after all, it had become an unspoken rule in your shared abode that the time you two got up was entirely determined by jing yuan's choosing.

every morning you would wake up long before jing yuan yet you could never leave the comfort of your shared bed (and his embrace) until he decided to finally get up. his arms would always be loosely wrapped around your middle, but not loose enough to let you escape, his legs would be intertwined with your own and his head resting firmly in the crook of your neck.

although there always remained one issue. while jing yuan was the luofu's general and didn't exactly have anyone to properly tell him off about his indolence, you weren't that lucky. admittedly you did get some slack for being the partner of the general, but it wasn't enough to stop your superiors from occasionally lecturing your ear off about time keeping and properness.

one too many of such incidents had led to you making the tough, but necessary, decision of sleeping separately to your lover until you rebuilt your superiors forgiveness.

and as expected, jing yuan was not a fan of such arrangements. he would linger by the door, watching as you prepared your sleeping area that wasn't shared with him, a childish pout close to forming on his face as he complained about being lonely and making false promises to let you go when you wake up just so long as you returned to his embrace.

it pained you but you had to stand your ground on the matter. soon enough jing yuan would retreat with a defeated sigh and hesitance in his steps - not too long later you would fall asleep, determined to finally be on time for the first time since you started living with jing yuan.

but you should've known that jing yuan wouldn't have given up as you were abruptly woken up in the middle of the night to a familiar presence holding you in his embrace.

you could barely open your eyes yet you still tried moving away but it was a futile effort as immediately the arms wrapped around your frame tightened and pulled you back. all that was left for you to do was to sigh in defeat and go back to sleep.

as usual , you woke earlier than jing yuan and yet you couldn't move anywhere although your shuffling was enough to wake him. jing yuan could only let out a smug smile when you glared at him and give your scowl a quick kiss as an apology for your inevitable lateness to work.

argenti ★↷

argenti was always a gentleman to you, constantly showering you in praise and pure admiration, going out of his way to do things for you and so on - admittedly most of the time it was subtle, but just enough for you to know what he was doing.

and so, if anything, the only thing you could ever get mad at him for was either his occasional habit to put himself into dangerous situations for the sake of others, or simply the fact that it sometimes felt like there was nothing you could ever do for argenti.

it was not unheard of or even a surprise that the knight of beauty was quite the romantic and due to the fact that he lived up to that title, it was a challenge for you to try and reciprocate that kind of level of affection as whatever you did felt like it pales in comparison to what he would do for you.

in hindsight it probably was rather a trivial matter to be getting “mad” over, but for once you'd like to be the one to do something meaningful that flustered him.

argenti didn't let your sudden change in mood go unnoticed. he observed how you seemed more irked lately, always staring him down with half a scowl in your face seemingly lost in thought - he was always left wondering what happened and if he did something to cause this. and indirectly, he did.

no matter how hard you could try to hide your plan of trying to find a way to do something for argenti that rivaled what he did for you, he would find out - argenti was always very attentive when it came to you.

and when he found out the specific nature of your idea, he couldn't help but feel enamoured but he didn't really want you going to those lengths for him. so he'd soon confront you.

a smile would soon grace his features, a genuine soft one that very admittedly made his heart flutter. he'd readjust himself so that he would be kneeling down on one knee, holding both your hands in his infront of you - the knight would then proceed to also look up at you with the most lovesick look you'd ever seen from him.

argenti would then proclaim how much he appreciated your efforts in trying to do something for him and elaborate on how it was a welcome but slightly unnecessary endeavour as long as he could make you happy, that was all that he cared about.

he would soon stand back up so he could give you a kiss - his apology and reassurance to you that as long as you were happy, there was nothing more he could ever have.

mydei ★↷

mydei was never one to anger you on purpose. although it may seem as though he would enjoy riling someone up, he would never do so to the people he cared about - at least not seriously, more in a playful gist.

so it was never a surprise for onlookers to see you glaring down mydei who in return would then have a smug smile plastered on his face.

he always knew that when he made a sly, almost childish remark, that you never took it too seriously as at this point you were used to his teasing. unfortunately for mydei, a more recent counter you had devised involved starting to avoid him.

it really served no other purpose than being a sort of petty way of getting back at him. at first, mydei simplu huffed at your attempts. he claimed they were futile endeavours and you'd come seeking his presence not too long after. unbeknownst to him, you're resolve ended up being stronger than his.

for as strong as mydei was, you were always going to be a weak spot for him and that didn't change upon your presence being missing from his, even if it was for a short period of time.

with each time you deployed this tactic, the wait time between seeing mydei and then seeing him come looking for you got shorter and shorter. mydei would find himself missing you, realising just how much he cherished you and how weirdly empty he felt without you by his side - something he'd never admit to your face but certainly would show in his actions.

by the time mydei would seek you out, he'd be in a huff. grumbling nonsense to you about leaving him alone for so long and even throwing in similar remarks to the teasing that got him in this situation but you would pretend to let those ones go unnoticed.

almost instinctively at this point he'd grab your hand and drag you away, somewhere that had less prying eyes that would happily feed their curiosities on you and mydei's relationship. and once he had achieved such, he'd sneak his arms around your middle before burying his head into the corner of your shoulder, still grumbling away to himself.

there would be a brief moment in which the two of you stayed there like that. once he'd have his fill of your embrace, mydei would lift his head to give you a kiss

mydei would soon pull away fully, passing a remark to never do that to him again, before gently and very desultory hitting you on the head before walking a way with a smile on his face.

phainon ★↷

being infuriated at phainon was a near impossible task. even if on the rare occasion you were, he was an individual who would do anything in his power to turn that around as quickly and as sensibly as possible - he would despise it knowing you were upset with him and whatever he did would be his responsibility to fix in a reasonable manner.

and that was always something he would strive to do. even if you're anger was a result of your day, phainon would take it upon himself to help you cheer up and calm down, hopefully aiming to aid in melting away your stresses and worries.

in all honesty, you would be lying to say that he wasn't effective at it. whether it was because of his own fault or not, it didn't matter so long as you returned to him and his embrace at the end of the day.

although that was easier said than done when it did end up being phainon who was the source of your infuriation. and yet he was always still determined to make it up to you - if anything phainon could be rather persistent at times, especially when it came to you.

he would give you the space and time without him to have your moment for yourself, and when both of your heads were level, with your anger replaced for a gentle yearning, phainon would be the one to seek you out first. however, when he did find you he would make his presence known but he would stay silent and while retaining a small distance to give you the space and control just in case you needed longer.

you always knew what he was doing and it was very much appreciated on your end. there was a comfort in knowing that phainon was always there for you, always willing to do what he can for you and him.

perhaps that's why you could never be angry at him for too long.

as soon as you gave him some sort of signal that it was okay for him to finally be with you again, he took the opportunity with barely contained excitement. he'd listen to your worries or whatever it was you needed to get off your chest but if you didn't feel like talking then, he'd also happily wait in silence for you.

although phainon could never stand to see your face shadowed in something negative. so regardless of whether you wanted to talk or not, he'd open his arms for you to fall into his embrace - an offer you'd take up most of the time, a silent promise that he was still there for you and into the future.

[starrygazers]

cross my heart (hope to die)

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ haiii :3 I only write like once a year but that won't stop me from yearning for these new characters. I love Amphoreus because I was a Greek myth nerd growing up and this new update tickles me in aaaall the right ways.

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ tags : angst, established relationship, mentions of character death

˖ ࣪⭑ ⸱ featuring : Mydei; minor spoilers for 3.0

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mydeimos, the Crown Prince, has no fears. He tossed away his humanity when he embraced immortality, the tool that he needed to trek on this god-slaying journey. There was no room for fear, not when he had to fight the Titan of Violence. A man such as this was not capable of human emotions; or so he thought.

"So," you hum in a sing-song tone, draping your arms around Mydei's shoulders. "When will you take me to that new restaurant in Marmoreal Market?"

Mydei huffs, but makes no effort to peel your touch off of him. He turns around to meet your eyes; you're so close to him. If it were any other person, they would have faced the wrath of the Undying Lion.

You detect no change in his expression, so you start pouting. "Mydei! You promised me you would."

Mydei shrugs. "Did I?"

You roll your eyes, finally letting go of him and sitting on the empty spot next to him. "Dying doesn't exempt you from the promises you make, you know?"

The Prince can't help but crack a smile at this; you're the only person that he can comfortably joke about his immortality with. With you, it doesn't seem like the big deal everyone makes it out to be. Not the heroic Chrysos Heir trait that Phainon envies him for, or the source of worry for Aglaea and Tribbie. It's just another part of him that you've accepted.

Because you accept all of him.

You cross your arms and look away from him, mumbling about how the restaurant's been open for a month and it's not new anymore so there won't be as many people and why do you always have to go on such long expeditions, but Mydei shushes you by taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

A whisper of apology.

"It's okay," you mumble, extending your pinky. "Just promise again, for this life."

"I'll make a thousand promises if that's what you want," he says, and it comes out rough, like he's doing it to get you off his back. But you know better, you know him better.

He raises his own pinky finger to entwine it with yours. "How does the saying go again?"

"You're so forgetful," you laugh, and it's the most melodious tune he knows.

"Cross my heart..."

Mydeimos knows that he must suffer a thousand deaths, and a thousand more. He's content with this destiny, because he knows he is not given the privilege to choose. He must lay down his god for the glory of what little humanity he has left within him. He will trade a thousand lives for peace, and he will enter a losing battle with only his faith in the infinite lives that he has.

Perhaps this is what made him forget how flimsy a life really is.

In his usual boredom, Phainon once riddled him. "How heavy do you think the world really is? Like, a thousand Dromas?"

Mydei's response, in typical fashion, was to huff and call Phainon's musings irrelevant. But now, he thinks he can answer that question.

The world is really light in his arms. The world is pale, cold, and losing a lot of blood.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you manage to say before your last breath. Your voice is hoarse, but Mydei would beg Oronyx to loop it forever because he still thinks your voice is his lullaby.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He promised to take you to that restaurant, and many more. He vowed to bring peace to this world to one day crown you as his queen.

Mydeimos knows that he must suffer a thousand deaths, and a thousand more. But this was worse than death. For you, he would trade it all; his status as Crown Prince, his pride as the Undying Lion, his immortality.

A thousand life for yours.

"... and hope to die."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©2025 starrygazers. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

if you liked this, consider buying me a ko-fi! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[mikashisus]

❛ ── INTRICATELY ENTWINED ❜

⤷ synopsis. to be so intricately connected with someone was a blessing, but it could also be a curse.

mydei x gn!reader. 789. ( contents : fluff! angst if u squint ) ╱ taglist. @wystiix @pneumosia @kazuinvocation @pixelcafe-network ( art creds : quinii09 ) HAPPY BIRTHDAY @st6rly !!!

Mydei liked to watch you. There was nothing more intimate to the both of you than gazing upon the other while they flourished in their trade. 

And right now, you with your tongue sticking out of your mouth as you furiously jotted down new song lyrics and hummed a soft tune under your breath, was nothing short of enchanting. You had your moments. You could be utterly disheveled from a fight, all battered and bruised, yet he’d still find a way to see the beauty in you. 

His way of portraying how he saw you was entirely different from the way you viewed him. To you, he was the words you wrote feverishly on parchment, a harmonious melody in your ears, elegant brush strokes on a canvas, the whistling of the wind in your ears and the softness of the breeze on your skin. He was the light guiding your path, the ink tattooed on your skin, the flow of pomegranate juice down your throat. 

Mydei was all that and more. He was the sun you chased after, the morning star that led you home. 

He brought color into your life. He was your muse. 

To him, you were something worth fighting for. The people of Kremnos valued the thrill of battle and personal honor above all, yet he always needed a purpose for fighting. Battle was not a game. It was an art. However, in that art, there was a purpose— a meaning that he so desperately sought for. Yes… battle was thrilling and the thrum in his veins during a fight was unlike anything he ever felt, but… it wasn’t something that consumed him. To be consumed by battle and bloodlust was a dishonor to Nikador’s core values. 

You were the purpose he found. You were the reason he continued to fight. 

The both of you could not be any more different, as was the way you saw each other— but it was also all the same. 

He was the finest melody, and you were the cherished fire setting him alight with purpose. 

Your eyes gazed up from your rough draft of the new song you were working on, drifting to the open window in your study. The market was bustling with life, but it missed your presence on the streets. 

A smile tugged at your lips. You’d return once more with a new song, and you’d sing it for the very muse who had been staring at you this whole time. You could feel his gaze on you, just like always, and with a soft sigh, you met his eyes. 

“You know… you should take a picture— maybe you’ll stare at that more than me, then.” 

He smirked. “Am I distracting you, bard?” 

You hummed. “Evidently so. But… you are fueling this— explosive creativity I have, so maybe you can stay.” 

“I was going to anyway.” He quipped, taking a sip of the pomegranate juice you offered him earlier. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Could say the same to you, my dear warrior.” 

He was stuck with you now— and you with him. The two of you didn’t mind, though, as this exchange meant more than all the words you could ever string together, and more than all the battles he could ever fight in your honor. 

To be so intricately connected with someone was a blessing. It could also be a curse, but ultimately, it was a blessing. It was healing, in a way. 

You were seated across from him, your legs propped up on your desk as you scribbled in the notebook resting on your lap. Yet, you felt near to him, wrapped up in his embrace just from the soft expression in his eyes as he continued to stare at you like a cat. He was seated across from you, his chin resting in his palm and a lazy smile on his face. However, he could feel the coolness of your touch on his skin as you sent him an occasional fond smile. 

You didn’t have to be right next to each other to feel each other’s embrace. You didn’t have to be near the other to feel their love, adoration, or passion. You could be anywhere in the world and know exactly how he felt for you— how his life force connected with yours and intertwined with it so deeply. 

Was this what they called soulmates? 

The lingering thought in your mind gave rise to new inspiration, and suddenly you were grabbing your lute and finishing the remainder of the song meant to express your unconditional love for the man looking at you as if you had been the one to bear the world on your back instead of Kephale.

notes. happy birthday atlys!!! i hope u enjoyed this drabble! i'm really happy with how it turned out! this was more or less a continuation of the last mydei oneshot i wrote, but it can be considered a stand alone too. i'm hoping to start writing drabbles like this for moots for their birthdays!! i hope u have a wonderful bday atlys, and welcome to adulthood! 🤍

© 2025 mikashisus.

[aventurineswife]

Castorice and a Reader from Xianzhou directly afflicted with a curse of Abundance (unable to die and the whole shebang that comes with it).

Bloody hell, Castorice and any immortal character (like Bladie and Mydei) sounds like a recipe for very interesting dynamics.

Anyway—

Reader trying to follow the Trailblazer and Dan Heng after they lost contact to find out what happened and make sure they’re still alive and, just like the latter two, Reader’s car ends up getting shot out of the sky by one of Nikador’s arrows — spears? — and they end up crash-landing with some injuries. Unlike Dan Heng and TB, they landed much further away with no one around to call for help, and end up having to hobble along a greater distance before finally reaching Okhema.

Which means they have no idea who the Chrysos Heirs are, much less about Castorice, who happens to be the very first person Reader approaches to ask about a clinical location.

Like, Reader literally walks up to her from behind before anyone nearby can warn them, and even puts their hand on her shoulder to get her attention before dropping dead.

And they wake up with their head on Castorice’s lap. Why? Because TB came across the commotion when Castorice was freaking out and after assuring her Reader would be just fine and eventually wake up, TB decided to be a mischievous raccoon and say that Reader will probably feel more comfortable if their head rested on Castorice’s lap. 😅

The first thing Reader asks when they wake up is, “Since when has death looked so beautiful…?”

A surefire sign that Reader has lost the brain cell (because it went back to Dan Heng).

Reader’s curse acts quickly, though, and adjusts so that the next time Reader accidentally gets too close to Castorice, nothing happens — which means Castorice now has a friend who can safely tag alongside her.

Where Death Cannot Touch

Summary: After a crash caused by a Nikador's spear, you, cursed with the affliction of Abundance (immortality), find yourself stranded and injured. On a desperate search for the Trailblazer and Dan Heng, you collapse on the outskirts of Okhema. There, you awaken in the lap of Castorice, one of the Chrysos Heirs, a serene and ethereal mortician with a deep connection to death. Despite the curse that makes you unable to die, a subtle shift in your magic allows you to safely be near her, and an unexpected bond forms between the two of you, offering the promise of safety and understanding.

Tags: Castorice x Reader, Immortality (Abundance Curse), Comfort/Healing, Slow Burn, Found Family, Romance (Slow/Developing), Prophecy.

Warnings: Injury (Crash-related), Immortality/Curse, Some angst due to the curse, Brief mentions of death, Light humor in dialogue(s).

A/N: Might be ooc (and rushed) because I don't know much about Castorice 😔🙏

The air was thick with the scent of earth and rain as you limped through the unfamiliar terrain. The once-pristine sky above was now marred with an unnatural storm, and though you had been in your car just moments ago, the world had swiftly fallen apart around you. Nikador's spear—had torn through the air, and the subsequent crash left you with cuts, bruises, and a heavy ache in your chest. You could feel the pull of your curse, the relentless, gnawing sensation that came with being cursed by Abundance—unable to die, but cursed with immortality’s burden.

Your body couldn’t die, but it could certainly be battered. You could feel the soreness settle deeper in your bones as you struggled to get back on your feet. There was no one around. No one to help you, no one to hear your calls. The sound of your footsteps was the only thing you could rely on, as you dragged yourself forward with one singular purpose: find the Trailblazer and Dan Heng. Make sure they were still alive.

But, as time passed and the landscape shifted, your weary legs grew heavy. You staggered, trying to focus, trying to hold onto the fragments of hope that hadn’t been crushed. When you spotted Okhema in the distance, you thought it was a miracle. You gathered your strength and pressed on, despite the exhaustion clawing at you.

When you finally reached the outskirts of Okhema, your vision blurred, and your consciousness wavered. You were so close. But the curse tugged at you again, and just before you could even process it, everything went black.

You woke with a soft, unfamiliar sensation beneath your head. The ground was cool and smelled faintly of lavender. As your eyes fluttered open, your vision cleared slowly, and you found yourself lying in the lap of a figure, her presence so serene that it almost felt dreamlike.

The first thing you noticed was her appearance. Her lavender hair, adorned with flowers, cascaded down around her face, framing her gentle, ethereal features. She wore a regal, yet mysterious, black crown, its sharp edges a stark contrast to the softness of her demeanor. Her eyes, a soft lavender hue, were watching you with a calm, almost melancholic gaze.

You blinked twice, your mind still foggy from the sudden and inexplicable change in surroundings. Then, as your consciousness fully returned, you let out a hoarse chuckle, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Since when has death looked so beautiful…?" you mumbled, your voice thick with confusion and exhaustion. You’d meant it as a joke, though it felt absurd. Here you were, in the lap of a woman who seemed like she belonged to another world, and the strange words just slipped out.

The woman’s eyes widened, and a soft blush colored her cheeks. She looked almost startled by your words, but there was something in her gaze that made you feel strangely safe. Before she could speak, however, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Well, well, looks like they’re finally awake," the Trailblazer’s voice came from somewhere behind you, and you turned to see them and Dan Heng standing just a few paces away, watching the interaction with amused expressions.

“Don’t worry, they’re fine,” the Trailblazer added with a smirk. “Though, I figured you might be a bit more comfortable if you woke up like this.”

Dan Heng, looking slightly irritated by the situation, crossed his arms. “You do have a strange way of reassuring people, Trailblazer.”

The woman whose lap you rested on—Castorice, as you would come to learn—looked down at you in confusion, her gentle gaze still holding a hint of curiosity. "You... you’re alive?" Her voice was soft, like a whisper of wind, but there was an undercurrent of concern that laced each word.

You let out a small, sheepish laugh. “Well, I’m cursed, so... alive and well, or cursed and suffering. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Castorice's eyes softened with understanding, and she nodded slowly. “You must bear the curse of Abundance,” she murmured, almost as if speaking to herself. “It is... a heavy burden.”

"Yeah," you said with a tired sigh, trying to sit up but wincing as the pain from your crash reminded you of the ordeal you had just gone through. "But that’s not the worst of it. I was looking for you... or, rather, I was looking for answers." Your gaze shifted toward the Trailblazer and Dan Heng. "I’m trying to find out what happened to the two of you after you lost contact... I thought I’d lost you."

“Well,” the Trailblazer spoke up, “looks like you found us. And with a bit of help from Castorice here.”

Dan Heng gave you a look. “You’ve really managed to get yourself in a mess. But don’t worry, we’re safe now.”

Castorice shifted slightly, her hands brushing a strand of lavender hair from her face. Her gaze was still focused on you. “If you’re looking for a place of care, I may be able to help. I work as a mortician here in Okhema.”

You blinked, processing her words slowly. Mortician? Was that why she was so serene? The curse of Abundance made it difficult to relate to the living world, and yet here she was, calm and ethereal in a way that reminded you of the death you’d been running from. But you could sense her power. It was unlike anything you’d encountered before.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a place where someone like me could... lie low?” you asked, feeling the weight of your curse heavy in your chest.

Castorice nodded. “I do.”

Before you could say anything else, you suddenly felt it—the subtle shift in the air. There was something different, almost like a force had aligned itself with your very being. The curse inside you seemed to adjust, the magic that kept you from death acknowledging something. You hadn’t done it intentionally, but your body seemed to adapt. The next time you accidentally brushed too close to Castorice, there was no jolt of death.

It was subtle. But in that moment, you realized something.

You weren’t going to die around her.

It felt like a strange kind of relief, and though you didn’t fully understand it, the sense of connection lingered. Castorice turned to face you, her soft expression unreadable.

"Would you like to stay with me? I believe you’ll be safer here," she said, her voice carrying an unexpected warmth.

And with that, something shifted between the two of you—something as delicate and intricate as the butterfly patterns on her gloves. The beginning of a bond. A strange, beautiful one.

[tricoloreddango]

All’s fair in love and war, part 2 [final]

Yandere Mydei x female reader

Summary: You end up pregnant with your enemy’s child. Mydei takes advantage of your misfortune.

Contents: pregnant reader, babytrapping, Mydei’s lore spoilers, reader gets called a degrading word (not by Mydei), arranged marriage (coerced), violence, overprotective Mydei, Hades and Persephone elements, suggestiveness, overprotectiveness, angst, murder mentions. [part one]

Word count: 3.9k

Today was the most nervous day for you in a while. You and Mydei were anticipating your father’s arrival, and you felt nothing but terrified to admit the truth about the fact that you got pregnant with his most despised foe. Mydei has been trying to be reassuring, stating that at least you will put this conflict between his and your father’s people to an end; along with him promising you to be the one doing the talking. The idea of letting any harm come to you was much more ridiculous especially.

And you should have been assured. But seeing how composed Mydei looked, you didn’t really like his nonchalance. It was as if the situation worked out for him a bit too well. Just how happy Mydei was at the prospect of starting a family with you? All of this reaction made you feel out of place and misunderstood.

When your father entered the ruins of Kremnos you agreed to meet at, Mydei put his body slightly ahead of you, as if willing to guard you and your baby in case of aggression.

Your father was quick to judge, “What is the meaning of this, my daughter?” His voice was angry already, making you feel an unease already. Of course he wouldn’t like to see you and Mydei together, and he was confused when did you two even met.

“Father, listen…” you started nervously but Mydei interjected. He was straight to the point as usual, hating a small talk. “I want to marry your daughter. Give me her hand in marriage.” The absolute shock on your father’s face made you extremely guilty immediately. You were about to have your betrayal revealed… and the idea of admitting that you let an enemy spill his seed inside of you was the most shameful.

“What did you just say?” he asked even more angrily and walked towards you both. Mydei put his arm ahead of you to stop him. “What are you doing with him? Are you telling me you agree if you’re here with him?!”

“She is—” Mydei tried to say but your father wasn’t having it. “No, you bastard. Let her speak before I feel like disinheriting her!

Tears filled your eyes and while your dad softened for a moment at the sigh, having loved you ever since you were just a baby, he was still too angry and confused. “Speak,” he repeated.

You’ve been preparing yourself for this for the past week, but all the strength you’ve gathered was gone when facing your father, like a bobble being burst. “Father…” you started crying. “I’m pregnant. With Lord Mydei,” you admitted with shame.

You’ve never seen murderous look on your father’s face. He automatically assumed this man must have taken advantage of you, not even for a moment thinking you’d do this willingly. Well, you didn’t want to get pregnant—that wasn’t planned. But your affair was your choice. So he immediately tried to attack Mydei. You panicked as you saw him charge and screamed before a deadly fight could erupt, “No, it’s my fault!”

That stopped old man in tracks. First there was confusion painted on his face, then disbelief, and then… disgust. His own daughter…? Your mother will faint once she receives a letter later from his temporary location. The commander and his wife will become grandparents, yet he wasn’t sure of the joy it’s supposed to bring.

You were crying ugly, knowing how much you disappointed your father by choosing to sleep with his and yours enemy. You were a warrior too, now reduced to a future mother with a man so hated by your people and a mere baby crying from the consequences of your own actions, no matter how strong you were when fighting. “I didn’t mean to get pregnant, I swore I was using—”

“Be quiet,” he said coldly. “Watch your mouth,” Mydei said in your defense; not that your parent cared. “My daughter is nothing but a whore and you’re telling me to watch my—” Your father didn’t finish his sentence as he got punched in the face by your lover. You gasped and grabbed onto Mydei’s naked chest. As much as hearing such terms from your father hurt incredibly, you still loved him and felt protective enough to not let any pain come to him.

“Mydei, stop this! You two stop this!” you screamed and now were sobbing hard. Mydei turned around to look at you, something like worry flashing across his face. He wasn’t an expert in pregnancies but the medic have told him you need to avoid stress, for your and baby’s sake. Mydei pulled you to his side to hold you and rubbed your arm up and down. You couldn’t help but lean onto him, feeling weak and in need of comfort. “Don’t cry,” he said more gently before his voice was rough again as he spoke to the opponent. “Get up. We’re going to explain everything before I will beat you up for real,” he threatened.

Your father wanted to fight and curse further, however he needed many answers. The disgust at your betrayal didn’t leave though. You winced at how much bruised his cheek was now.

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully,” Mydei started. “It’s true your daughter has been sleeping with your opponent and that she ended up conceiving my child. But me offering this marriage could be beneficial for both sides.”

“Beneficial? How is this betrayal beneficial-” your father asked with another portion of anger but then he finally understood the meaning of this union. “… You speak of a treaty. You want me to sacrifice my daughter to end this war?” The idea was clearly uncomfortable to him. While he wasn’t a lenient person and he was mad at you stabbing him in the back, he still felt a natural sense of patently duty towards you. “You really are a scoundrel,” he scoffed. “She’s not an offering to gods!”

“I’m not sacrificing your daughter,” Mydei said seriously. “I’m only making sure this child is not born out of wedlock. Us setting a peace is just an extra part. You wouldn’t want your child to end up as a lonely mother, would you?”

Of course your father didn’t want that. Not only it’d be distasteful in the eyes of his people, he doubted you’d manage on your own. It was only a matter of him not being able to accept that for all these months, you’ve been lying behind his back.

But it didn’t mean this marriage wouldn’t be a blessing in a way. His people were tired. He was tired. You were tired. Yours and theirs safety and wellbeing came first. Your father looked at you, glad your tears were disappearing. He needed you coherent for you to answer him truthfully, “Do you even want this or is he pressuring you to marry?” Mydei clenched his jaw, staring your father coldly.

Now this was a difficult and complex question for you. You have never planned to marry Mydei, have a child—so you weren’t happy about this situation. On the other hand, a sense of duty towards your tribe, having remembered all the lost lives and souls; it kept you thinking you should do this. To you, this wasn’t even about the child having their future secured.

“It’s my decision, father…” you spoke hesitantly, but then you forced conviction into your voice, “… I think Lord Mydei is right. Not only this child needs a father, I also want our people to finally rest easy. I know they need some closure…” You felt Mydei tighten his grip on you at your words. You didn’t even dare to look at his face, scared you’ll see the same triumph you have seen the day you announced the news.

Your father closed his eyes, a thought on his face. He had to make a difficult decision. There was no good answer as in both cases there is something to give up: it was about choosing a lesser evil. Giving his daughter away to his enemy or denying his people or the end to this conflict. He opened his eyes, the shade exactly like yours, his blood running through your veins.

“You know what this means? That I’ll have to give you away to this man?” he asked, and you noticed a slight tremble in his tone. His flesh and blood, being taken away from him sounded most excruciating to a parent. You nodded, already feeling like crying again. None of you wanted to be separated from each other, even if your father might never forgive you.

“In that case… you better take a good care of my dear child, Lord Mydei,” he said seriously, not hiding his resignation.

“I will,” Mydei said with honesty. He didn’t care about anything else, now that he finally had you for himself. He was scared of the idea of being a father, but he loved this child already—even if your belly was barely showing, especially under your clothes; maybe because he was denied of childhood himself after his father’s sins…

“I won’t let any harm come to my betrothed or her child,” he added with an honor.

Your father took his words as truthful, however he had a condition. There’s no way he’d leave you in the lion’s jaw with no space. “We’ve made a responsible decision already, but… I have to ask you for one more thing.”

Mydei didn’t have a good feeling about the proposal, but he put his free hand in front of himself as a gesture that he’s willing to hear him out.

“As much as I’m letting you wed my daughter, I cannot possibly never see her again. Especially her mother, I don’t want her to curse me either. That’s why I want a quarter of a year with our daughter in our home. Once she gives birth and recovers, that is.”

Mydei was right in the idea that he wouldn’t like it. The idea of having you (and assumedly your daughter or son) gone for three whole months every year was maddening. Every minute away from you got him feral and worried you’re being seen by another man or at risk. As a result of hearing this ridiculous statement, he squeezed on your arm hard enough to hurt. When you winced in pain, he immediately let it go—he didn’t mean to cause you any harm, it was simply he was still learning how to be gentle for a sake of your pregnancy. He looked down at you, making sure you’re alright.

Instead, he saw your begging eyes. You were desperate to keep in touch with your family; however there was something else at play—for all the suspicious feelings you had towards Mydei lately, you felt like having a break for him as well. Maybe even your child will need it—who knows what kind of father your fiance will become.

Mydei hated the idea of having you out and baby of his reach and being out of control with that deal. It was a realization that you’d probably become unhappy and unwilling should you be stuck with him all year that made him hesitant to deny you. If seeing your family makes you happy… maybe you will also be desperate to return to him sooner than a quarter of every next year. Would his child love him enough to betray you and demand he or she miss their daddy and want to go back early?

He made that hard decision, “Very well then. But don’t even assume I won’t drag her back if you extend three months even by just a day.”

When Mydei was leading you away to return safely, you had to look back at your father for the last time before you’ll have to wait long months to see him again. Living outside of Okhema and Kremnos made a distance too long for your father to feel like you’re near him, so he mouthed “I love you.”

He’ll take a blame on himself. Neither did the pain on his face mattered, when his heart just broke.

☆

When you two have returned to the house Mydei has kept himself at, with few servants that remained loyal to him even after he abandoned his role as a future king in Kremnos, you’ve realized this will be your new home only now. Homesickness overwhelmed you already.

Entering his chambers, Mydei placed you on bed and helped you remove your shoes. You had no idea why, considering you were in a stage too early to have swollen feet yet. Was he becoming soft with you?

“How do you feel?” he asked from below you. “Any nausea yet?” You shook your head. “Good.” Mydei sat down next to you on bed. “The healer has told me that if a father was in a healthy state before a woman conceives, the pregnancy should be easier on her. I don’t even drink alcohol, so I hope you’ll get to rest easy for the remaining time of your heaviness…”

It was at least one thing for you to be soothened about.

Being emotionally exhausted after parting with your father, haven’t seen your mother in months as you participated in war, you felt shameless enough to put your head on his shoulder. “That’s reassuring,” you said with a little yawn. Mydei knew this probably wasn’t a good moment, but he found you oddly adorable when you appeared tired like this, softening his heart at some extent. Perhaps, he simply liked the idea of you being dependent on him… he had you in his grasp anyway. And it will remain that way until you take your last breath—not that he didn’t wish for you to become immortal too somehow.

Seeing you being all worn out, he helped you lay down before he put himself next to you. Having an affair with you for months, he had enough time to learn some forms of affection despite his rough personality… no matter what a sick man you’ve made him to be. He wanted to be angry at you for having him so obsessed with you yet he didn’t remember the last time he had felt so alive in his immortal life.

Mydei let you turn on your side for him to hold, even feel the calm rhythm of his heart. You’ve made him at peace when his mind was at war all the time.

You squirmed a little when you felt his hand land on your lower stomach. You were still unused to the idea of carrying a life in your womb, a child from him of all people. “I think you’re strong enough to go through this state smoothly as well,” he added eventually.

But it wasn’t your physique you’ve doubted. Pregnancies tended to be difficult for women, however what got you truly worried was forced assimilation in Okhema and the idea of your life having changed so drastically upon one of the nights with Mydei.

“… Yeah. Mydeimos?” you asked quietly. “Yes, love?” he asked with a rub of your belly, bit happy at the sound of his name. Maybe your form was bloated just barely, nonetheless it made him territorial already. He’ll protect you and this child, slaughter any enemy deciding to cross you, and maybe one day you’ll ask for another babe. For now, he needed to prepare a wedding ceremony. He won this fight nonetheless; even if he had to do something so disgusting to you. He felt guilty sometimes, until the thoughts of you filled his mind again and instead he wanted you even more.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his chest, your eyes closing already. “What are you thanking me for?” he kissed your cheek.

“I’m glad you didn’t separate me from my family,” you admitted meekly.

“I couldn’t go that far, so don’t thank me. I only want you to care about our family just as much.”

You didn’t manage to agree as you fell asleep, leaving him without your promise. Mydei sighed and pulled you closer to him, with his palm on your stomach still, for him to imagine how big and much more his you’ll be soon.

☆

As your belly grew, so did Mydei’s newfound tendency to be overbearing. He seemed to be more stressed out than you at times, desperate to make sure your wellbeing is secured. To him, it didn’t matter how suffocated you might have felt—he kept you close regardless. Especially now that you were wife and husband. Mydei needed both your safety and love, for all the times he didn’t feel safe or loved himself.

When it came to you, you were founding yourself to be more accepting of the situation. Not happy though. No, your mind was more about getting used to the idea, as you knew you had no choice and needed to get through it sometimes. You can’t take time back but you can make the future work.

Mydei have noticed you became more quiet after separation, but he blamed it on you missing home than you actually being unhappy at the prospect of becoming a mother. Perhaps he was a fool but he had all the confidence in you, one day, loving him so much you could die; the same way he loved you and this child.

You were four months pregnant at this point. Mydei was so bad he didn’t even want you to walk too much, finding some excuses about you provoking painful feet or risking tripping over. No, you were much better sitting on his lap while he sat on his throne.

“Open your mouth,” he said teasingly and fed you few pomegranate seeds. He wanted you to eat well for the baby, and a healer recommended fruits for additional vitamins. The idea of sharing his favorite food with you felt nice too—even if it’s a merely sized way of bonding.

When you parted your lips for him, he slipped few pomegranate seeds into your mouth you quite enjoyed, his finger accidentally brushed over your lips and spreading crimson juice here. The unintentional art looked beautiful on you nevertheless. You were carrying a meaning of pomegranate on your plumpness, both fertile and in marriage union. Should you ever die, he will simply hunt your soul back to him.

Observing your beauty, he felt a familiar urge to push his thumb into your mouth and see you suckle on it, like you have done so submissively during many nights. No matter, he’ll wait until your hormones strike you enough for you to feel desire all the time… he’ll just have to be more delicate with you in this state, and you surely will let him rock your body with his hands on your bump. He’ll knead your breasts too, chasing away all the soreness.

He put an empty pomegranate shell away, hopefully not as empty as you, and wrapped his arms around you, typically one hand on your belly. It could be any moment a baby kicks so he was always ready like this.

“Say… do you think it’ll be a girl or boy?” he asked with curiosity, pushing his excitement into the back of his mind so you don’t think of him as too eager.

You looked at him in thought, your mouth suddenly dry. “Well, I didn’t really think about that… I just want them to be healthy.”

He chuckled at your words. In his eyes, you were such a good mother already. “Their gender doesn’t matter to me either… I’ll help them become a strong warrior regardless. My parents…” he stopped for a moment. The bitterness of his father’s murder and his own murder reminded in him until many years later. He cleared his throat, despite it feeling choked. “My parents were a king and a queen, both warriors of the equal strength as none of them won during their first clashing of blades… I won’t discriminate no matter the result of your birth. I’m sure our child will be strong as you and I are.”

You still noticed how giddy he sounded, so odd for Mydei; you learned how to read him; no matter how much he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. You felt some form of affection for him too, however, you didn’t like how easily you soaked in his emotions sometimes. It was unsettling how intense he was when he thought you didn’t notice.

But the mention of warriors… it made you feel nostalgic. You missed the battlefield and the freedom and pride it brought. “Yeah, I would like to train them too…” you said hopefully. Something angry flashed in Mydei’s eyes for a moment, not sure if he should let you continue fighting whether you will recover after a birth or not. What if you fly away from him? At the same time, he didn’t want to make you miserable. “Well, you shouldn’t get rusty. I suppose some sparring with me should help you get back in healthy shape after birth,” he said, all resigned. You’ve made him too soft for his liking, but even more fierce with his enemies that could threaten you and the unborn.

But the short look of excitement in your eyes was worth it. He really didn’t intend to make you unhappy in any way… it was just his desire to both own you and keep you safe, something he had grown enough during your months of passionate nights before your pregnancy; it only burst open and swallowed you when his tragic plan had worked.

You both jumped when the baby suddenly kicked in your belly, for the first time. You felt it hardly from the inside and for him it was under his rough-skinned palm. He looked at you in awe, until he saw your eyes well up with tears, thinking it perhaps hurt. “Are you okay?” he asked slightly panicked.

“Huh? Yes… I just… feel touched. That child really exists,” you said with a smile. Sometimes about them being alive and proofing it was your comfort to your loneliness; unless you were becoming delusional and desperate for relief.

Seeing your rare moment of happiness and smile was a soothing balm to his soul. This boy or girl were really the key to making you his—not only did you agree to marry him, you also were starting to appreciate an aspect of becoming a mother. He didn’t care if it was your hormones, a stereotype of a mother’s instinct or your affection for him. He shall make sure this remains eternal.

When Mydei placed his lips on his and stroked your belly, you let him. He didn’t cry now but he felt like he will once he sees the blessing he produced in the world.

As he kissed you rather gently for him, you having taught him how to be more soft for your sake, he thought many things. How beautiful you’ve become even if your skin appeared dull, how much he liked taking care of you, how he finally had an idea of family back in his life, how much of his you were…

…that’s why you shall never know the truth about your past herb treatment, not needing to leave you heartbroken. Neither will the healer spill it out for you, as he was now six feet underground.

He just couldn’t had let you go, scared you’ll finally leave back to where you’ve came from, should the conflict end on its own. And you fell right into his trap.

[mydeist]

˙ . ꒷ 🌿 . 𖦹˙— WELCOME TO MYDEIST! ★ a side blog dedicated to bookmark all the fics i've read. ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

── .✦ DIRECTORY! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

I. JUJUTSU KAISEN ★ ── fluff, smut, angst, smau, fics, series

CHARACTERS / gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso, shiu kong + multiple

II. GENSHIN IMPACT ★ ── fluff, smut, angst, fics

CHARACTERS / zhongli, kaeya, diluc, xiao, kazuha, childe, ayato, thoma, itto, gorou, alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, capitano, kinich + multiple

III. HONKAI: STAR RAIL ★ ── fluff, smut, angst, fics

CHARACTERS / welt, luocha, jing yuan, blade, danheng, gepard, sampo, argenti, boothill, ratio, aventurine, jiaoqiu, moze, sunday, phainon, mydei + multiple

IV. LOVE & DEEPSPACE ★ ── fluff, smut, angst, fics, series

CHARACTERS / zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb + multiple

V. OTHERS ★ ── smut, yandere

NOTE! — i also read other stuff like haikyuu, aot, bnha, and resident evil. the main format for my tags is "#[acronym]: [category/character]"

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws

[heidilylovely]

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐎 𝐍𝐎 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐊𝐔 - 𝐌𝐘𝐃𝐄𝐈 𝐗 𝐅.𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑! Prologue

Words: 5000

Genre: G.N Reader (Fluff, Angst!)

Summary: Mydei, the Undying Man of fights!, crashed into a strange world of pink blossoms after a unknown accident.... Bloodied and broken, He now is in...place where they say GLORY TO THE ALMIGHTY SHOGUN OF INAZUMA BAKUFU, NARUKAMI OGOSHO, DESTROYER OF OROBASHI, RAIDEN SHOGUN BAAL, AND HER EVERLASTING REIGN AND PURSUIT OF ETERNITY.

This is my first fanfic, I'm so sorry if I made his character a lil too annoying. (Yes, This is a isekai fic)

Carelessness will be one's downfall…

Oh, isn't it just? Isn't that what he always said, the one who spoke such wisdom? A prophecy spoken by lips now cursed, now enshrined in their own wreckage. But who was he? A fool who dared speak of carelessness as though it could be avoided, as if such a thing existed outside of the grand, terrible dance of fate. A dance you don’t lead, and neither does he. He. The one who had the audacity to believe that he could avoid the inevitable. Mydeimos, the undying. Or should I say Mydei, warrior of Okhema, knight in cursed armor, the one who would never escape his own destiny, even if he tried. A man marked by chaos, for his existence alone is anarchy incarnate.

If you wish to understand him, to seek the core of who he is—watch. Watch him as he fights, as he rips apart those who dare cross his path. Witness him, for he’ll let you in. He’ll let you see the poison that courses through his veins, the curse that binds him in ways even he doesn’t fully understand. Watch him—fight him if you must—though I wouldn’t advise it. He’s not someone you defeat. He is the fight, the war, the consequence.

Kremnos. The land swallowed by mist, drenched in endless fog that hides more than it reveals. A city torn apart by its own violence, riven by the wars of its people, its rulers, its gods. A place where blood runs like rivers, and not all of it is the blood of the innocent. Oh no, not at all. Patricide runs in the veins of the royal family, stained deep. A god watches over this land, and that god is the harbinger of calamity itself. Their name, their very presence—destruction, inevitability, chaos—what else could Kremnos be but a living nightmare, forever bound to its dark fate?

But Mydeimos, he stands apart from the rest, doesn’t he? Oh, he’s a lion among sheep, a beast with a hunger that none can tame. The undying one, cursed by immortality, walking the path that leads to nothing but suffering and madness.

Ah, but who speaks of the prince of this land? Who speaks of the heir to the throne of Chrysos? The one who seeks the Coreflame of Strife, who would chase that burning heart of war like a moth to a flame. His path is laid before him, one of bloodshed, violence, agony. For Mydeimos, fate is not just cruel, it is demanding. He will suffer a thousand deaths, each one a testament to his unbreakable resolve. He will wade through rivers of blood, as the bodies of those he has slain litter his way home. He will carry the madness of his fate like a crown, because to be great, one must bear the burden of madness alone. Only by slaying a god can one become a god. This is the truth he faces, the truth he cannot escape.

The iron-hooves of his warhorses pound relentlessly across the land, shaking the earth beneath them. Their march is a harbinger of doom, a warning that nothing can stand in their way. And yet, despite the thunderous sound of their coming, they too are doomed. They too will be stained by the blood of their homeland, for nothing is sacred in this war. Not even the soil beneath their feet. They march ever onward, though they know not what they will find. Only that they must march, and march, and march.

Ah, the prince. The prince of Kremnos. They sing his name in whispers, in fearful reverence. All hail the prince. They say it, they shout it, they tremble in the wake of his footsteps. But what do they know of him, really? They only know the surface, the child’s play of it all. They do not see the man beneath the crown, the one who fights not for glory but for survival. They do not understand the weight of the crown upon his brow, the madness that burns in his veins. They think him untouchable, but oh, how wrong they are. If they knew what it took to be him, they would understand that the true fight with Mydeimos is not in the clash of steel, but in the wreckage that follows. The aftershocks alone would break them.

He despises the hero. The brave, cocky hero who believes that he is the answer to everything. The one who stands before Mydeimos with wide eyes and false conviction, spouting lines of nobility that mean nothing in the end. Oh, that hero, so energetic, so full of life—but a fool nonetheless. A fool who thinks he is invincible, who believes that his curse is just a test of his strength. He’s a man of his word, sure, but what good is a word when it’s bound to the chains of fate? What good is honor when fate itself is a liar?

But Mydeimos, he knows this. He knows what it is to be bound by a curse. A curse of death, a curse of life. His very existence is a contradiction, a mockery of life itself. He is Mydeimos the Undying, cursed to die, yet unable to escape his immortality

He needs to… eliminate Nikador… But why isn’t he healed yet? Why does it still linger, this stupid curse?

He is Mydeimos the Undying, the very name carved into legend, and yet—his curse is dying. A paradox. An irony he can’t escape. The irony of being immortal, yet NOW! He can't heal now, of being trapped in the agony of death that never comes. He was supposed to be....—but now, he can’t even repair the damage done to his body. The curse—

What happened? How did it all go wrong? He was just trying to kill the invader, to protect what little remained of his fractured world. And then—the Titans. There was a power overload. A surge. It was like the heavens themselves had cracked open, and from that rift, the orb was created.

But now he can’t even remember the details. The shock of it all, the chaos—he was just trying to defend his.....citizens...

Perhaps there was a spell cast on him, something that twisted his fate, that altered the very core of who he was. Could it be? The Garden of Recollection. The invader was from there, wasn’t he? The garden, where memories twist and time is but a fragile illusion.

The invader got angry, didn’t he? Mydeimos remembers that much—rage, intense, raw, as if the very air itself burned. And that’s when it happened, when everything spiraled out of control. The magic, the power. Something triggered a chain reaction. And now, here he stands, caught between two impossibilities—immortal yet dying, a warrior without a cure. He doesn't know. He doesn't know how to fix it.

This… this is his nightmare. A fate worse than death. To be undying, yet unable to heal...

And then—flooding.

Flooding, like an overwhelming tide that rises from nowhere, drowning everything in its wake. Not water, not anything earthly—but something worse. Something vast, something cosmic. It began to pull him in, like a force beyond comprehension. The cosmos. He was no longer bound by the soil of Kremnos, no longer confined to the realm he knew. His body, his mind, his very soul were swallowed by something greater, something unrelenting. The stars themselves began to flicker as he fell through the void, spiraling endlessly through a cosmos that had no mercy.

It was red. The light, the hue—it consumed everything. The very fabric of reality bent under the weight of the red, as if the stars themselves were bleeding. And then came the cubes. Strange, geometric forms, glowing with an eerie intensity, reaching out, surrounding him, pulling him into their grasp. They came from everywhere and nowhere. They took him. They took him, not to save him, but to prevent something. Something far worse than the curse of dying. Something that only he could understand.

He fought against them, tried to break free. His body screamed in defiance, his will more potent than ever..

He fell, deeper still, spiraling through the burning fire, the light swallowing him whole until—silence.

The fall slowed. The fire faded, replaced by a soft, unexpected calm.

The world around him shifted, and for a moment, he thought he was trapped in some endless, deceptive dream. The place he landed was unlike any place he’d ever known.

It was... peaceful.

He hit the ground with a sickening thud, his injured body scraping across the earth. His limbs screamed in agony, the damage from his battles still fresh, his curse a constant, gnawing ache beneath his skin. But this new place—the one he found himself in, sprawled on the ground—was an insult to his very being. A place of serenity, of gentleness, when he had known nothing but war, chaos, and the blood-soaked battlefield.

The ground was soft, carpeted with pale pink petals. They scattered across the earth like delicate confetti, fluttering lightly in the wind. It took him a moment to realize what they were—sakura petals. Soft, beautiful things that danced in the breeze, mocking him with their tranquility.

He hated it. He hated how peaceful it was. He wanted nothing more than to destroy the calm, to tear apart this place that made him feel so out of place, so weak. He had never known peace, never truly understood it. The soft petals beneath him were a cruel reminder of everything he had lost, everything he would never have.

The landscape stretched out before him, like a dream of gentle beauty. Tall trees, their branches heavy with blossoms, stood like silent sentinels, as though guarding a secret he could never access. The petals from the trees fell lazily, blanketing the air in a soft pink hue that seemed to glow against the pale blue sky. The atmosphere was calm, still, as if time had paused altogether.

But none of it mattered to him. It was foreign. Wrong. The gentle hum of the wind, the stillness of the space—it grated against his every instinct. He had fought for his life, fought to survive, and now, here he was—broken and battered, lying in a place that begged for rest. Rest? Rest had never been an option for him.

He tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. The effort was futile. The pain was too much. His injuries were too severe. His cursed immortality had brought him here, but it couldn’t heal him, couldn’t save him. He wasn’t sure if this was a prison or some twisted joke of fate.

There was something wrong about the stillness, something unsettling in how the beauty seemed to mock him. His hands, bloodied and bruised, gripped at the ground beneath him, but there was no fight left in him. The world around him hummed with an eerie peace that cut through him like a blade. He was a warrior, a prince—and now, here he was, lying in a world that expected nothing but submission, nothing but quiet acceptance.

He gritted his teeth, his breath ragged. The petals scattered around him, soft, delicate, and utterly useless. They couldn’t save him from the chaos that boiled inside, from the rage he had carried for so long. He didn’t want peace. He didn’t want calm. He wanted destruction. He wanted a fight.

He stood. Slowly, unsteadily, as if the weight of the world had been placed upon him. His body was battered, broken, barely holding itself together. Bloodied hands, stained and trembling, gripped the earth for support. And there, in the delicate, mocking stillness of the sakura grove, Mydei, the undying prince, felt more vulnerable than he ever had before.

His royal attire, once a symbol of his unyielding power and noble heritage, now seemed like a distant memory. The golden armor, intricately forged and gleaming with the authority of his bloodline, was no longer regal. It was tarnished, dirtied, like a warrior who had long since forgotten how to fight. The ornate details that had once shone with the brilliance of his status now looked dull and faded, as if the very essence of his former grandeur had withered. His royal robes, normally pristine and fit for a king, now hung off him in tatters, dust clinging to the fabric as though he had been dragged through some forgotten battlefield.

The tattoos on his skin, symbols of his divine strength, seemed to mock him now, no longer radiant but faint, as though the power they once represented was slipping away. They traced his arms and chest like the faded marks of a god long dead, each line a reminder of the strength he no longer had.

What happened to him?

His gait was unsteady, almost stumbling, every step an effort. The same warrior who had once stood tall in the heat of battle, who had commanded armies with the force of his presence, now walked like a shell of himself. His once assured steps, filled with the strength of a thousand battles, were slow, labored. He could barely lift his feet as he moved, blood leaving dark stains on the ground beneath him.

He hated it.

This weakness.

He wanted to scream. To rage against the world that had brought him here. But his voice, once commanding and fierce, was reduced to a hoarse whisper, barely audible beneath the sound of the wind. Why? Why had fate chosen to crush him so completely? Why had the GODS abandoned him to a fate of endless struggle, leaving him a mere shadow of the prince he once was?

The sakura petals continued to fall around him.

What happened to him?

Step. Step. Leap.

Mydei moved forward, his body screaming in protest with every motion. His golden armor, once pristine and untouchable, now bore the weight of dust and dried blood, dragging against his every movement. He should have been walking with power, with authority—but no, he was staggering, leaping forward just to keep himself from collapsing. His boots sank into the dirt, his vision swayed, but he refused to stop.

The pink petals still fell around him, still mocked him, as if whispering that he didn’t belong here. That he was something too violent, too cruel, too scarred for a world like this. And maybe they were right.

Then, voices.

He slowed, his breath uneven, as he saw them. A woman and two children.

The woman was scolding the kids, her voice sharp but not unkind, reprimanding them for something foolish. The children shifted under her gaze, embarrassed but unafraid. It was such a normal sight, so painfully ordinary, that Mydei felt something in his chest twist.

Why is this here?

A world like this—a place with warmth, with normalcy, with people who didn’t wake up every day to war and bloodshed—felt foreign. Unfamiliar. Wrong.

He should walk away. He should ignore them. They weren’t his problem.

But his throat was dry. His body was too weak. And against every part of his pride, against the bitter voice in his head that screamed at him to keep moving, he found himself walking toward them.

Water.

Just a sip. He needed something. His cursed body wasn’t healing. His wounds weren’t closing. If he didn’t get something, he would collapse where he stood.

But the thought of asking—of lowering himself to beg—was unbearable.

He stopped a few steps away, fists clenched at his sides. The words wouldn’t come out. The pride in his blood wouldn’t let them.

No.

No. He would rather die than ask for anything. He was Mydeimos the Undying. He had killed kings, broken warriors, burned cities. And now? Now he was nothing but a ghost, a man barely standing in a world that didn’t know his name. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—stoop so low.

He turned, his tattered cloak dragging behind him. He would leave. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anything.

Then—thunder.

A sound like the wrath of gods split the air, sharp and unforgiving.

Lightning crackled in the sky, and when he looked back, he saw them.

Two figures, emerging from the mist, their weapons gleaming with malice. He recognized them—not their faces, not their names, but the way they moved, the way their bodies coiled with the instinct to kill. They were predators. He never seen something like that.

And they were going to attack.

The woman didn’t notice. The children were right there.

Mydei could have walked away.

He should have walked away.

But he didn’t.

His body moved before his mind caught up, and in the space of a breath, he stepped forward and slammed his fist into the ground.

The earth split.

A violent tremor pulsed outward, and from the cracks beneath him, molten heat surged forth. A jagged web of lava crystallization erupted from the dirt, red veins surging like living fire, spearing toward the attackers in an instant.

The enemies barely had time to react. The crystallized eruption struck them mid-motion, knocking them back before they could so much as lift their blades.

The force of the attack sent a blast of heat through the air. It burned away the peaceful scent of sakura, replacing it with the sharp tang of scorched earth.

The children fainted. Their small bodies crumpled to the ground, overwhelmed....The woman—she had seen it. She had seen him.

And when Mydei lifted his gaze, their eyes met.

She stood frozen, her body stiff with fear, or awe, or both.

She had seen him.

Not just his attack. Not just the power that flowed through him, even in his ruined state.

She had seen him.

The blood smeared across his body. The weight of exhaustion pressing into his stance. The gold of his armor, dulled by dirt and war. The sharp lines of his face, the cold fury still lingering in his gaze.

And for the first time since he arrived in this cursed peaceful place, Mydei saw himself reflected in someone else’s eyes.

He hated it.

Hated the way she looked at him....

The moment his shout tore through the air, the ground cracked beneath him.

Red crystals—jagged, wild, and brimming with something uncontrolled—surged outward in a violent eruption. They clawed their way up from the earth, growing like hungry fangs, spreading in every direction with terrifying speed. Lava pooled beneath the crystalline formations, bubbling, pulsing like a living, breathing thing, turning the peaceful landscape into a battlefield of fire and ruin.

This never happened before.

He had always been in control. Even when his anger flared, even when his power felt like an untamed beast beneath his skin, he had always wielded it, never let it wield him.

But now, the power wasn’t stopping. The red crystals weren’t listening. They rose like an executioner’s blade, curling around him, surrounding him—trapping him.

What is this? What is happening?

His breath was ragged, his body trembling. He tried to take a step forward, but the crystals moved with him, circling, shifting, growing taller, sharper—like they had a mind of their own. A prison of his own making.

He clenched his fists. No. No, this isn’t—

Then—

A breeze.

Soft. Slow. Carrying the scent of those damned pink blossoms.

The storm of his power didn’t vanish, not immediately, but something in the air shifted.

And then—

She moved.

The maiden.

He hadn’t noticed before—hadn’t cared. But now, the sharp red crystals, the suffocating heat—she stood, walked..

The wind carried her movements, slow and deliberate, like she was part of the air itself. Her white and red robes fluttered gently, untouched by the chaos around her. The sleeves of her attire trailed elegantly, flowing as if they, too, were dancing.

She was moving towards him.

His breath hitched, his body still too weak, too out of control—but the moment his gaze locked onto her, something in his chest settled.

It was maddening.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity—he wasn’t burning.

The anger, the exhaustion, the ache in his bones—none of it vanished, but for a split second, it stilled.

Her dance continued, slow, deliberate, unnatural. She wasn’t afraid. She should be afraid. He was a monster right now, surrounded by the destruction of his own making, yet she approached him like she had nothing to fear.

He could feel it—something else in the air. Something cooling, something ancient.

She wasn’t just walking towards him. She was calming him.

The wind shifted again, carrying the scent of sakura blossoms, wrapping around his still-burning power like a quiet lullaby.

His head felt light. His vision swayed.

And then—

The world flipped.

What—?!

There was a force—sudden, swift, merciless.

He barely had a second to process it before the world spun, his body flipping upside down with all the grace of a dying fish.

One second, he was standing. The next, he was in the air.

His dignity, however, was long gone.

The ground rushed up to meet him—no, he rushed down to meet it. The last thing he saw before impact was a blur of red and white fabric, the shrine maiden’s expression unreadable.

Then—

WHAM.

Pain. So much pain.

The world was spinning. His head was reeling. His entire existence had been flipped upside down.

What. The. Hell.

He lay there, limbs sprawled like a broken marionette, staring up at the sky, dazed. His pride—his royalty—was in shambles.

He was Mydeimos the Undying. He had led armies. He had burned cities.

And just now—he had been THROWN.

BY A HUMAN.

A. MORTAL.

A mere maiden.

He didn’t even know HOW she had done it. She hadn’t even touched him.

His brain tried to process the physics, the logic, anything—but all it came up with was sheer, unfiltered BETRAYAL.

He groaned, covering his face with one hand, as the last pink petals floated mockingly down toward him.

This was, without a doubt, the worst day of his life.

Darkness swam in his vision. The world was still upside down. Or maybe he was upside down. His dignity certainly was.

Somewhere, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, he heard a voice. Soft, but firm.

"The Shogun’s army will be here any moment."

Great. Just what he needed. More enemies.

"I need to drag… you."

Wait. Drag?

His body twitched in protest, but he was too weak to move, too tired to resist. A shadow loomed over him.

"Stranger…? Monster…? Demon…? Oni…? Tengu…?"

The shrine maiden’s voice wavered as she listed off every possible category of supernatural disaster, as if she were trying to diagnose what, exactly, had just fallen out of the sky and turned her peaceful little world into a molten warzone.

And Mydei—Mydei wanted to respond. He wanted to tell her that he was none of those things. That he was Mydeimos the Undying, last prince of Kremnos, wielder of power beyond mortal comprehension. That he was a warrior, not some yokai out of a bedtime story.

But all that came out was:

“Ghhrgh.”

Which, unfortunately, was not a coherent sentence.

Or even a word.

His mouth refused to work. His body refused to move. He was still sprawled in the dirt like some pathetic wreckage, the pink petals drifting lazily down onto his face like nature itself was mocking him.

His vision blurred, his mind spinning.

And then—he felt it.

A hand.

Gripping his wrist.

Dragging.

No.

No, no, no, no—

Was she—was she actually dragging him?!

Like a sack of rice?!

His pride, what was left of it, let out a dying wheeze.

The shrine maiden, still muttering something about needing to hide him before the soldiers arrived, was actually dragging him across the ground, his golden armor scraping against the dirt, his regal, battle-worn form now reduced to dead weight.

The world tilted again. His last thought before darkness fully consumed him was:

"I would rather die."

Then—

He fainted.

The first thing Mydei became vaguely aware of was the muffled sound of giggling.

Was he dead?

No. Of course not. He wasn’t that lucky.

He groaned softly as his head swam back into consciousness. His vision blurred at first, but then the soft, almost comforting sound of children reached his ears.

"Uncle? He looks old..."

The voice was bright and curious.

Mydei’s eyes snapped open, just enough to make out the blurry outline of two small figures leaning over him. He winced as he tried to lift his head, but the pounding headache made him flop back down like a ragdoll.

Uncle?

Was that… was that what they saw when they looked at him? Some poor, battered stranger who was now just a casualty of whatever this was?

The kids giggled again, clearly oblivious to the fact that the "uncle" in question was on the verge of passing out from sheer embarrassment. One of them, a little girl with pigtails, leaned closer, squinting at him like she was trying to figure him out.

"Don’t be mean! He seems young like big sis!"

Mydei blinked. Young like her?

Was she… referring to him?

Young?

His ego, already battered from the throw earlier, shuddered in indignation. He was not some young man. He was Mydeimos the Undying. The Last Prince of Kremnos. His age, whatever it was, was marked by the weight of wars and bloodshed.

But no. This child… this child was calling him....?

He felt a chuckle threaten to escape his lips, but it died before it could form. He was still too tired, still too weak, still too embarrassed.

The woman—no, the shrine maiden—was still nearby, standing with her hands on her hips. She cleared her throat, catching the attention of the children.

"He wasn’t trying to hurt us, kids." Her voice was calm, soothing, yet there was an edge to it that made it clear she wasn’t in the mood for their antics.

The boy, a little older, tilted his head, his innocent curiosity turning into suspicion.

"The Shogun ordered to kill anyone that is unknown, right?"

The shrine maiden nodded.

"Yes," she replied softly. "But we’ll handle it. He’s injured, and the Shogun’s men won’t be an issue for now. I don't think he was the one The shogun was looking for."

She turned back to Mydei, and then, to his utter mortification, she started to lift him.

“Shush, annoying kids,” she muttered under her breath as she tried to shift his massive, barely-conscious body into a more manageable position.

The kids were still watching, but they weren’t being as loud now. They were, however, looking at the shrine maiden as if trying to figure out how she was going to manage this.

Then, out of nowhere, the girl piped up again, her voice sweet but filled with absolute innocence:

"You’re a shrine maiden, right? What are you going to do with him? Heal him?"

The woman froze.

Mydei, now in an awkward half-sitting, half-lying position, tried to focus enough to catch her reaction. He was half sure she was about to lose it right then and there.

But instead, she sighed deeply, like the weight of the universe rested on her shoulders.

“Shush,” she muttered, clearly at her wit’s end with the kids. Then, with a certain finality, she hoisted him onto her back, folding him like he was a giant bag of flour.

A very heavy, very annoying bag of flour.

The kids stared.

“Lady Guuji isn’t even impressed with you, you know.” The boy’s voice was laced with that innocent yet piercing honesty that only children could get away with.

The shrine maiden’s eye twitched.

“Shush,” she said again, almost venomously this time. She struggled, adjusting her hold on Mydei’s limp form, trying to secure him in place.

As she did, Mydei caught sight of the ridiculous position she had him in: his body was folded in half over her back, his arms limp, his head lolling to the side like a ragdoll. The sight would have been comical if it weren’t for the sheer level of discomfort it caused him.

"Guuji should not be impressed with me," she muttered to herself, completely unaware that the kids were still watching her every move, waiting for her next line.

"Yeah, but I think you’re doing great. You’re carrying him like he's a bag of rice," the girl said matter-of-factly.

The boy nodded vigorously. "Yeah! You’ve got him all bundled up! Just like how my mom carries the sacks of flour when we need to move them. It’s so funny!"

The shrine maiden turned, her face completely deadpan, and with one last, deep sigh, she began to move—her arms awkwardly clutching the ragged Mydei as she stumbled her way toward wherever she planned to hide.

“Shut up, kids.”

Dragging what could only be described as the most awkwardly slumped hero ever seen, Mydei thought, for the first time in his life, that maybe—just maybe—this day would be one for the history books.

A warrior prince carried like a sack of rice. By a shrine maiden. In front of a bunch of kids.

It really couldn’t get any worse.

[sundaysconsort]

Mydei fluff please! 🤭🫶 (Anything works for me!)

Entry: " Face To Face With Mortality "

Pairing: HSR! Mydei | Reader

Information: In a moment of quiet intimacy, a warm and inviting character reaches out to a guarded warrior, sharing insights about love and self-acceptance. Despite Mydei's tough exterior and defensiveness, the warmth of your connection begins to break down his walls. You express a desire to be someone who stands by him, challenging him to rethink his beliefs about partnerships and connection. | 1.8k Word Count

Tags: Slow Burn, Romantic Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy(?) Ending, Forbidden Love (?), Power Struggles, Soulmates, Dark Themes, Deep Conversations, Confessions, Tender Moments, Heavy Themes of Loss & Hope, Fighting Against Fate, Fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of Death & Reincarnation, Existential Themes, Discussions of Emotional Trauma, Heavy Angst, Implied Violence, References to a Cursed Fate, Emotional Vulnerability, Brief Touch of Self-Doubt, Intense Romantic Moments, Possible Future Loss.

"I believe you'll experience it someday!" Mydei hears you beam, your voice warm and inviting—a gentle melody that seemed to cut through the stillness that often surrounded him during his brief moments of peace. A sweet smile graced your lips as you confidently reached out to take his hands in yours, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The unexpected softness of your touch was a stark contrast to the tension that usually enveloped his life, offering a whisper of comfort that dared to breach his guarded heart. Despite his intimidating exterior—his chiseled jaw and stormy, piercing eyes that sent most people scurrying away—you approached him without a hint of hesitation.

"What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brow slightly as he studied you with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. His voice was gruff, deep, and resonant, like distant thunder rumbling across a darkened sky, creating an atmosphere heavy with uncertainty.

"Pfft, love, idiot-" you chimed, your infectious light radiating around him like a gentle sunbeam breaking through the clouds, illuminating the shadows that often clouded his world. You could see the flicker of intrigue in his eyes, a spark that hinted at a battle waging within. Seemingly unbothered by the use of 'idiot" as if it were a term of endearment coming from you.

"Well, what if I don't want a partner?" he countered, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone, as if your words threatened the carefully constructed walls he had built around himself.

"Who said anything about a partner?" you replied, momentarily caught off guard by his bluntness. The surprise quickly faded, and you regained your composure with the grace of a dancer stepping back into rhythm after a brief misstep. "Love comes in all different shapes, sizes, and forms, Mydei. It's not just about romance."

With deliberate tenderness, you leaned forward, easing your way closer to him, which he allowed. You lifted a knee to settle into his lap, a bold move that invited intimacy while cozying into the strong, protective confines of his throne-like seat. The warmth of your body against his seemed to dissolve the barriers he had erected around himself, inviting a sense of safety that he rarely experienced.

"Self-love is one of them," you added softly, your voice sincere and earnest, resonating with the depth of your understanding.

As you wrapped your arms around him, letting go of his hands, you felt him relax into your embrace. The contact melted the tension between you, creating a pocket of comfort that felt cocooned from the outside world. "It’s tough to achieve, that’s for certain," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him, searching for understanding within those tempestuous depths. "But… it’s really nice to have once you do, don’t you think?" You held your breath, hoping to draw him into a moment of clarity amidst the chaos that often surrounded him.

“Hah. I can’t say I know what that’s like,” he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. “I haven’t had the luxury of such a commitment. The very idea of devoting myself to someone feels like a distant dream to me, far too risky given the inherent dangers that come with my position.”

Your curiosity is piqued as you tilt your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of what lies beneath his guarded exterior. “So it’s something you’ve thought of before?” you ask, your voice soft yet probing. His gaze shifts momentarily, suggesting a swirl of emotions beneath the surface.

“Occasionally,” he admits, looking down as if the ground might offer him refuge from his own vulnerability. “But it’s not like I can afford to let anyone in. This destiny… it’s complicated. Anyone I care about could be in danger because of me.”

You can’t help but sense the weight of his unspoken fears. “You’re not alone in this, you know,” you say gently. “You don’t always have to carry that burden by yourself.”

He meets your eyes, and for a fleeting moment, his guard lowers. “It’s hard to let go,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper while maintaining it's usual gruff edge. “I want to believe that someone could stand by me, but…” He trails off, the unsaid hanging in the air between you.

Your gaze shifts, drawn to the intricate red markings that snake across his chest. They’re like a canvas of stories untold, a work of art against the backdrop of his muscular physique. You gently trace your finger along one of the markings, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “But what if I wanted to be that someone?” you suggest, your heart racing as you share your own silent desire.

He halts mid-sentence, his brow furrowing in both confusion and intrigue as a flicker of surprise illuminates his features. The unexpected weight of your words settles heavily in the air between you, creating a palpable tension that seems to slow time itself for an instant. “And if you already are that person?” he asks. Mydei's question lingers, expecting an answer yet remaining patient with you, determination etching itself into his expression as he prepares to delve deeper into the conversation.

In that moment, as your fingertips gently brush against the artful contours of his skin, a charged silence envelops you both. The air thrums with unspoken possibilities, thrilling yet laced with an undercurrent of fear, undeniably tangible. A man ensnared by the curse of eternal returns, each death a brutal reminder of the fragility of life. The thought weighs heavily on him; how could he endure the anguish of your inevitable departure?

You take a breath, gathering your thoughts before responding, “Maybe that's the question I've been avoiding, Mydei. What if I am? What if every word we share, every moment becomes a part of a cycle we can't break? It terrifies me just as much as it intrigues me.” Your voice is steady but vulnerable, and you lock eyes with him, the depth of your feelings reflecting in your gaze, expressing more than your usual positive outlook, expressing your own concerns. “But perhaps it's also a chance—to embrace the fleeting moments we have, no matter how they might end. I'd rather face the uncertainty together than live in fear of what comes next.”

His own death holds no terror for him; he has long accepted the inevitability of his fate. Yet, when it comes to your mortality, a chill runs through him. As you glance up, he meets your gaze, and the world around you seems to fade. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, voice low enoughf or only your ears to be blessed, “every moment with you feels like a precious thread woven into the fabric of my endless existence.”

"You'd make a great poet, Mydeimos," you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He shot you a hardened glare at first, but as the seconds passed, the sharpness in his expression softened. A hint of a smile crept onto his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and settling you comfortably in his lap. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, making the teasing feel like a shared secret between the two of you. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and a sense of intimacy that deepened the playful banter.

“What happens when that delicate thread, so finely woven into the fabric of our lives, breaks?” The question lingers in the air between you, thick with tension and weighty with meaning, as if it holds the power to unravel everything you thought was secure.

With a glint in his eyes, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I suggest we change the word 'when' to 'if,'" he proposes, his breath brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The suggestion hangs in the air, filled with unspoken possibilities, as the tension deepens, inviting you to explore the unknowns that lie ahead.

His golden, piercing eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race and your breath hitch. You can feel the weight of his gaze, filled with both longing, an alluring fire. “You make this life—my life—worth enduring,” he whispers, his voice low and husky, each word dripping with fierce conviction. There’s an urgency in his tone, leaving no room for argument, as if he knows the stakes of this moment.

He pauses for a heartbeat, the world around you fading into a blur as he leans closer, revealing the depth of his determination. “I’ll find a way to bring an end to the gods, to the chains that bind us,” he vows, his resolve evident in the fierce glint of his eyes. As the promise suspended between them, you took a deep breath, your heart racing. "Do you really believe you can achieve that? To become something more, for us?" Your voice trembled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

He locked his gaze with yours, determination blazing in his eyes. "I have to believe it. For you. For our existence, and all those we hold dear. Without that promise, what kind of future would we have? I won’t settle for anything less."

The air around them crackled with tension. You could feel the heat radiating from him, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. “And if you transform into something… different? What if you lose yourself?”

Unwrapping a single arm from your waist, you feel the warmth of his hand as it gently cups your cheek. The skin is rough and calloused, a testament to the hard work he's known throughout his life. “I won’t. I’ll never lose you, not now, not ever,” he promises, his gaze steady and intense, filled with determination. Using his other arm to draw you closer, you feel the solidity of his biceps pressing against your body, a protective embrace that envelops you in his strength.

Time seemed to stand still as he leaned in closer, breaths mingling, anticipation thickening the air. “All I want is you,” he whispered just before closing the distance.

Your lips met in a restless kiss, igniting a fire deep within you both, a blaze that seemed to consume the very air around you. This was no ordinary kiss; it resonated with promises whispered in the softest of tones, dreams painted in vibrant colors, and the undeniable urgency of a love that pushed against the confines of your reality. As you melted into him, the world around you dissolved into a hazy blur, each heartbeat echoing the intensity of the moment. Time itself seemed to pause, allowing you to savor the depth of your connection, the way his hand cradled your face, and how his breath mingled with yours in a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and comforting. In that fleeting yet eternal instant, you were both willing to fight against any force that threatened your bond, believing wholeheartedly in his every word and the future that lay ahead, a future you were determined to build together, no matter the obstacles in your path.

A/N: First time writing our dear Mydeimos! I hope I did well, and though it's got my usual twist, I hope it's fluffy enough for you!