Chapter Text
“Cyrene!”
“Ah, ጕቿሀጎክ! What’s got you so worked up, my knight?"
“Well, um, you know how there were some people from Castrum Kremnos who passed by today?”
“What about it?”
“They let me spar with them!”
“…You sparred with soldiers from Castrum Kremnos?”
“Well, not like an actual spar, I was pinned to the ground half of the time!”
“That's…certainly something, but sounds to me that your getting closer to fighting on the battefield!”
“Uh, I don’t think I’ll ever be that good, Cyrene. I got a bit distracted at the end.”
“You, distracted? By what?”
…
“Well?”
…
“Don’t leave me hanging, ጕቿሀጎክ.”
“…their muscles?”
…
“Pfft—”
“Cyrene—are you seriously laughing right now?!?”
“You got beat because of some buff guys’ arm! Bet his abs were rock hard probably just as hard as your boner—”
“By Kephale Cyrene, I didn’t get hard! And stop crying, it’s really not that amusing!”
“Really? Then explain to me how to get your dick standing up on your own—”
“As much as I enjoy our conversations, I have other things to do than be a target for your amusement. Namely taking care of little E̴͇̖͊̌̈v̶̪̔̀̑͜͜e̷̼̜̻̒y̸̦͇̠̚̚. I’ll see you later Cyrene.”
…
“Huh, so ጕቿሀጎክ’s interests lie in somebody ridiculously muscular and strong…”
“...I could make that work!"
Aglaea had been staring for over 20 mins, not blinking once.
There was a scroll on her desk.
No emblem to signify from where it came, nor a cuff to keep it from unraveling.
Shriveled up and worn out from time, it stood out amidst the seemingly boundless fabrics and lavish garments scattered around her place.
She herself didn’t even notice it at first, and neither did her threads. It was concerning, to say the least. Aglaea's workshop was one of the most secure places in Okhema, if not all of Amphoreus. If one did not have permission to enter the room, yet came in regardless, her threads would immediately detect the perpetrator and detain them. Aglaea kept constant surveillance on who came in and when they left.
Even so, it took Garmentmaker, 3 cups of coffee, and reweaving Phainon's armor for the nth time that week (honestly, does she have to fix his whole wardrobe?) to actually realize that there was something not originally there.
Aglaea pinches the bridge of her nose. She does not want to deal with this right now.
At first she thought the unknown scroll to be a message from Cifera, it wouldn’t have been the first time she left a missive for Aglaea to read in such a manner, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But she quickly dismissed the thought. Even Cifera, sneaky as she may be, cannot go undetected by Aglaea’s threads.
Which begs the question, if not Cifera, who placed it there? More importantly, how?
Upon further inspection, the scroll didn't seem dangerous, nor did it bear any mark of Trickery. Her threads didn't detect anything suspicious either from it. Be it as it may, there is no plausible explanation as to why it's there.
She sighed and put her hands on her hips. Why did she become such an overthinker?
Aglaea had more pressing matters to attend to, a Heir of her status should not be engaged in a staring contest with an inanimate object.
Yet here she was.
...
...She's going senile, isn't she?
As the Chrysos heir was debating her sanity and how she should really consider taking a 3-week long vacation away on a tropical island (where she would find one, Aglaea didn't know), multiple pairs of footsteps were running towards her room at top speeds and slammed open the door.
Speaking of pressing matters...
“Hey Agy, the Crown Prince and his people will be arriving at the city gates shortly!” Trianne barged into the room, with both Tribbie and Trinnon in tow.
“Would you happen to know where Cinny is?” Trinnon peeked her head inside of the room.
Aglaea hummed. "Hyacinthia is near the Garden of Life, likely playing with the chimeras." Breaking her gaze away from the scroll, she instead turned to observe Trianne attempting to climb onto Garmenmakers' head, only to fall halfway up. "Is there a particular reason you require her assistance?"
"Reports indicate that some Kremnoans have injuries of various degrees, mostly from the effects from black tide," Tribbie sighed. "We are assembling a small group of doctors and healers to alleviate their pains when they arrive-" She paused, eyes landing on the scroll on Aglaea was previously glaring at.
"Wait a minute, why is there a piece of parchment paper on your desk?" Tribbie questioned, pointing to it. The trio bounded over to Aglaea's desk, all likely wondering what it might say. Tribbie looked curious, while Trinnon looked slightly afraid, no doubt letting her imagination run wild of what it might say.
Trianne's face scrunched up at the state of it (the scroll was rather dirty), and proceeded to put a rather dramatic performance entirely consisting of retching and sticking her tongue.
"It appeared sometime over the last several entry hours, I myself didn't notice the paper until a little while ago." Agalea came up from behind and swatted Trianne on her head.
"Do you know if this peculiar scroll contains any dangers?" Trinnon quietly asked.
"Not that I know of, the scroll should not pose any threat." Aglaea sighed. "Even so, that does not explain how it got there."
There's a giggle. "So many questions, but no answers." Trianne grinned mischievously, inching her way to the scroll, before grabbing it like a madman, and holding it like it's her only salvation. "You yourself said it's harmless, right Agy?
"Trianne, We don't think that's a very good idea-" Trinnon started, just as Agalea attempted to pry the scroll out of Trianne's hand. "Teacher—"
But it was too late. Trianne, in an absurd show of the strength (really, demigod or not, a child should not posses that amount of muscle), tore the scroll open.
Everyone's breath was held for a moment, before Trianne snickered. She lifted up the scroll to Aglaea's face, and began to wave it around.
Aglaea narrowed her eyes. How odd. It was blank.
"See?" Trianne started, smiling smugly to her. "This paper is perfectly harmless—"
The scroll, deciding that this would be a wonderful moment to make its' true intentions known, exploded, bursting into a cloud of pink glitter and smoke.
...Right onto Aglaea's face.
There's a beat. Nobody moved. Aglaea didn't even blink. She stood there, glitter clinging to her skin, the air thick with smoke and confusion. But her expression, her stillness, was the real spectacle. A calm so intense, it was as if she had been untouched by the chaos around her.
A silence that holds world-bearing amounts tension, and not even Trianne dares to make a noise.
Aglaea relishes in it. The absolute nothing filled with peace and tranquility. Is this how the West Winds feel? Can she experience this bliss again without having to be on the verge of losing her composure?
Noise-cancelling devices existed in Okhema, didn’t they? Perhaps she should start to invest in them, and maybe get a small collection for free-
No, Aglaea mentally berates herself. She shouldn't be letting her imagination run wild with these fantasies of hers. There was still much work to be done, and no time for guilty pleasures.
Time to get back to the matters at hand.
With a controlled breath, Aglaea flicked the glitter from her cheek. The calm of the silence settled over her once again, and the moment, brief as it was, stretched out like a quiet thread between them.
Then, without any further hesitation, she grabbed the scroll out of Trianne's hands.
"You're extremely lucky that its only glitter on my face and not something else, Teacher." Aglaea said coolly. Trianne nodded, at least having the decency to look relatively guilty.
Making her way to the nearest fireplace, a gasp came from behind.
It took Aglaea all of her strength to repress a groan.
Turning around to face the Tribios once more, Aglaea put a hand on her hip. "What now?"
"Agy, the scroll's writing on its own!" Tribbie exclaimed, running up to her.
She looked down, and sure enough, the scroll was composing without any external help. Most of the writings on it consisted of foreign letters (or maybe they were words, Aglaea couldn't tell) until it switched into a more common language. "It seems like it's trying to communicate with us."
The Tribios came over and crowded her, just as the words began to form a note somewhat comprehensible.
It read as followed:
ጕቿሀጎክ STUPID TASTES
- freakishly into buff guys
- eyes like the sunset
- blondes! of all people!
ጕቿሀጎክ ጎነ ነፕሁየጎዕ?!?
none of the people i’ve tried that have even one of these traits had ጕቿሀጎክ given even a smidge of attention to, will probably be forced to look outside if Aedes Elyesie and into other villages when the opportunity arises. Mnsetia help me.
Edit: Deploying E̴͇̖͊̌̈v̶̪̔̀̑͜͜e̷̼̜̻̒y̸̦͇̠̚̚ to help is not a viable tactic anymore!
"So it's just a random list explaining—how do you say this guys' name..." Trianne tried to pronounce the unfimiliar word a few times, before throwing up her hands. "...a person's interests?"
Aglaea nodded. "It appears so."
"Aedes Elyesie," Tribbie repeated, looking up at the Chrysos Heir. "Isn't that where Snowy is from?"
Aglaea opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a sharp intake of breath.
"Teacher? Is something the matter?"
Trinnon looked as if she'd bitten into a fig and realized it was filled with nothing but bitter philosophy and regret.
"L-look at the top..." She said, in what could barely be considered a whisper. If Aglaea hadn't spent well over one-thousand years with the three of them, she might've thought Triannes' voice was nothing but the hiss of a persistent bug.
Eyes finding the top of the scroll, Aglaea skimmed over the characters before she came across what Trianne was supposedly referencing—
Her thoughts stopped in their tracks. Tribbie's expression turned from an innocent curiosity to utterless confusion. Trianne said something under her breath that sounded suspiciously close to 'What the fuck'.
Aglaea couldn't help but agree with their sentiments.
no matter the circumstances, DO NOT SHOW
ጕቿሀጎክPHAINON
The room fell silent, as if the very air held its breath. Each of them stared at the words, unsure of what to make of them, as the gravity of the message pressed in. It was Tribbie, however, who first stirred, breaking the stillness with a subtle shift.
Her fingers lingered on the parchment, a faint frown on her lips. For a moment, it seemed as if she were learning some fundamental truth, her brow furrowing slightly in contemplation.
Then, without warning, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting those around her. Her voice, though light, carried an edge of something unspoken. "Well," she cleared her throat, "Guess the guy isn't so random after all."
Trinnon was the first to break away from the huddle around the scroll.
"The Kremnoans must be at our gates by now, we should start to go." She said, voice clear and loud enough for Aglaea to do a double take. “We messaged Phainon, he said he’ll welcome them.”
A chorus of quiet agreements came from the other parts of Tribios, before the group stood and shuffled their way out of the room. Walking through the halls and out of Mamoreal Palace, Aglaea could already hear the impending chaos, a headache on the horizons that might just push her to the brink of cardiac arrest. All she could do was maintain a composed expression and hope no one noticed the faint twitch at her brow.
Trinnon kept glancing back at her, which made the Goldweaver aware that she wasn’t doing as good a job of maintaining her composure as she thought.
If Aglaea's being honest, she could care less.
Removing the remaining residue of glitter from herself, her mind was weaving thousands of threads full of ideas in head, each left incomplete and trailing behind the next.
So this is where Phainon's tastes lie...
With all they have been through together, Aglaea only has one piece of wisdom to impart.
Phainon, quite frankly, needs to get laid.
She would never admit to having a little more than a passing thought of who Phainon finds irresistible, of course not. It is incredibly improper to speculate about ones' colleagues personal affairs, and downright unacceptable to, Titains forbid, use their talents to essentially pry into the depths of their minds.
Aglaea would never do such a thing.
...
...Well, maybe once.
Multiple times, perhaps.
But one wouldn't dare to blame her, don't you think? She's the literal demigod of romance, it's in her blood. How could Aglaea not use a ungodly amount of storage dedicated to lists and lists of people her fellow Chrysos Heirs might fancy?
In spite of those attempts at trying to figure Phainon's tastes without even having to ask, Aglaea always came up empty-handed. She couldn't even begin to grasp his thoughts, as much as she would loathe to admit. That sunshine facade of his deceived even himself, to the point of Phainon not comprehending his own feelings, or worse, refusing to acknowledge them.
Even when Aglaea’s threads sought to latch onto the depths of Phainon’s emotions, to uncover the hidden currents beneath that unshakable facade, all they ever returned with was the raw, suffocating weight of grief, and the heavy burden of the world's fate upon his shoulders.
It was as though the very core of him had been consumed by sorrow, so profound, so all-encompassing.
The demigod could see why.
Indifferent as Aglaea might be, she's known Phainon since he was in his adolescence, and has tried to give him the best life he could have in Okhema. Ensuring he had proper clothes to wear and went to bed each curtain-fall hour with a full stomach was one of the many responsibilities Aglaea took on over the years.
Alas, being the sole survivor of his villages' destruction has undoubtedly left a deep mark on his emotional and mental health well-being. With everyone he knew lost and then being practically thrown into a entirely different place in the timespan of a few days, the toll taken must've been immense.
It doesn't exactly help either that practically all of Amphoreus expects Phainon to save their dying world. The weight of such expectations casts a long shadow, deepening the social divide between him and the rest of Okhema.
And now, who remains to share the memories of Aedes Elyesie, when all but one were swept away by the West Winds?
It must be excruciatingly lonely.
...Which is why Phainon needs to get laid.
Engaging in sexual activites stimulates the release of oxytocin, often called the 'bonding hormone,' which encourages a sense of closeness and openness. As walls come down and trust deepens, one may find themselves more willing to share their thoughts and vulnerabilities with another. In such a tender space, it’s entirely possible that Phainon could, unknowingly, fall deeply in love.
It's a win-win situation.
If only Phainon would actually hurry up and do the damn deed.
A tug on her sleeve brought Aglaea back to the less glamorous reality.
She slowed to a stop, glancing down to find Tribbie, grabbing her clothes. Her teacher was observing Aglaea, occasionally flicking between an object in Aglaeas' hands and her face. Were her hands dirty? She looked down and—ah, it seems Aglaea never let go of the scroll (it resembled a tattered note now than an actual scroll at this point) and instead brought it along with her.
Tribbie sighed, presumably also coming to this conclusion. "You do realize that Trianne and Trinnon left, right?"
Aglaea could only blink owlishy. She, unfortunately, had been to absorbed in her thoughts to even notice that it was just her and Tribbie, let alone see that they were in the middle of a crowd.
Voices overlapped in a hum of conversation, footsteps echoed against the stone, and the press of bodies was enough to make her suddenly, acutely aware of how exposed they were.
For the nth time in just a quint, Aglaea could only barely hold back a sigh.
But something made her pause. Two high-tier Chrysos heirs out in public? That alone should have stirred some level of commotion. And yet, the crowd’s attention wasn’t on them at all.
Instead, it was drawn elsewhere, towards something Aglaea’s threads had sensed long before they arrived. Something sharp-edged, full of the clashing of weapons and the pulse of tension... yet disturbingly laced with a strange, theatrical sort of foreplay. Aglaea wrinkled her nose.
By Kephale, get a room.
At first, she’d dismissed it as a petty scuffle, nothing her threads couldn’t easily disband.
It was at that moment when she heard the Kremnoan chants.
Loud, untamley, and quite irritating words that only brought along misery to the people on the other side of them.
Tribbie was unfazed by the commotion. “They’ve been going at it for more than a quint at this point. We fear that if there’s no internvention, they’ll totally tear down a building or two soon.”
Aglaea pulled out her teleslate and checked the time. “The Kremnoans did arrive quite earlier than the expected time.” She said offhandedly. “Who did you say was sparring again? I’ll send a message to Phainon and tell him to break up the fight.”
“So, um, that’s actually the thing,” Tribbie giggled nervously. “Phainon’s kinda the one in the fight.”
Ah. So that’s why Aglaea could still sense the clash of weapons. Kremnoans do love a good battle. Although Phainon can be quite pugnacious, she trusts him to bring it to a close when the moment calls for it.
Phainon knows where spectacle ended and necessity began. If he was going against Mydeimos, however, that would be another problem entirely.
She hummed. “I see. Who is Phainon combating against exactly?”
“The Crown Prince.”
Aglaea nearly dropped the device out of her hands.
“Could you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
Tribbie gulped. “Um, Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos? His name is Mydeimos? You know, the super burly guy who can’t die-”
“Yes, I know who Mydeimos is, Teacher. What I’m more concerned about is why both him and Phainon are currently about to tear down the market.”
“Well, Mydeimos surely has some common sense, right?” She reached up and patted Aglaea’s back.
“Teacher, do you recall what the scroll wrote?” Tribbie nodded. “Where exactly did it say Phainon’s interests lie?”
“In someone muscular who has blonde hair—oh” Her eyes widened. “The crown prince has blonde hair, doesn’t he?”
“His eyes are very similar to the skies of the entry-hour before the eternal dawn.”
Tribbie winced. “Yea, We see how that can be a problem.”
The small Heir took Aglaea’s hand and dragged her to the commotion. “We gotta hurry over there, who knows what’ll happen!”
What began as a brisk walk quickly became a sprint, dodging startled attendants and cutting sharp corners. Not even a minute later, the chaos came into view.
“Hey Agy, you’re finally here!” Trianne came running over to Aglaea and a wheezing Tribbie, grinning from ear to ear.
“This is top class entertainment right here, they’ve even got popcorn!”
“Of course they do.” Aglaea repressed rolling her eyes. Leave it to the merchants to capitalize on this disaster.
“Has anybody been injured yet?” Tribbie questioned after she caught her breath.
“No, not yet.” Trianne shook her head.
Aglaea narrowed her eyes. “Not yet?”
“Come on, look at them! The Crown Prince and Snowy are completely focused on each other. We mean, look at Snowy!” Trianne snickered. “Seems like he has stars in his eyes.”
Aglaea followed her gaze, expecting a PR nightmare and a considerable amount of insurance for damaged properties and goods.
But as she watched the public fiasco unfold, for a moment, Aglaea forgot herself.
Phainon was a complete wreck. His hair was tousled up and wild, bruises and cuts adorning his body. His clothes are in no better state either. It seemed like every inch of him was smeared with blood. Aglaea was already dreading the time it would take to make the garments passable for public wear, again.
But just as Trianne said, there was this look in his eyes that was never there before. She would have called it love, if not for the fact that both him and Mydeimos have not been acquainted for long. Infatuation, perhaps. A slight fascination, just short of reckless longing.
After taking a particularly hard blow to the sternum, Phainon gave a grin that could’ve matched the sun itself, and let loose a laugh so full and unrestrained that Aglaea hardly recognized the man.
This was not the Phainon she had come to know.
His thread, for once, wasn’t heavy with pain or anguish. Instead, she felt warmth, a quiet sort of joy and contentment for what he had. That’s not to say Phainon had his bouts of happiness, but those instances were more reserved, more guarded than what he was feeling right now.
It was, as though, for the first time since coming to Okhema, he’d allowed himself to simply feel without bracing for the fall.
Aglaea glanced from Phainon to Mydei, then looked down to the note in her hand.
“Agy?” Trinnon called out. “What’s got you smiling like that? This isn’t really something we thought you would find amusing.”
Aglaea touched her lips, almost absently. Hm, Tribbie was right, a small smile was pulling at her mouth before she'd even noticed.
She, ironically, didn’t have the heart to force it off.
“I’m not.” Aglaea softly chuckled. “Just glad to see Phainon so earnest and open. It’s truly a sight to see, wouldn’t you agree?”
Trianne choked on a popcorn kernel, just as Mydeimos kicked Phainon into a wall, tearing open a hole.
“Unfortunately, property damage is a rather vexing issue to deal with,” Aglaea began to weave through the crowds, the Tribios in tow behind her. “Or else I would’ve let Phainon and Mydeimos battle out to their heart's content.”
Trianne nearly tripped over at the ridiculousness of her words. “We don’t think getting beat up can be called winning, Agy.”
Aglaea hummed. “It’s all up to interpretation, Teacher.”
Only when Aglaea got close enough did she decide to make her presence known.
With practiced ease, Aglaea flicked a thread like a dart, towards Phainon that missed his face by mere millimeters. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have missed, could’ve aimed for the skull to teach him a lesson.
But she was feeling a little more generous after today’s revelations.
"Phainon," He tensed up. "What exactly do you think you are doing? I don't recall giving orders to engage in a fight with our newest member, let alone in the midst of a very crowded market."
“Aglaea!” Phainon turned around and put his hands behind his back. “So I know this looks bad—”
“There is a hole in a wall that's exactly your size.”
“…To be fair, I didn’t even know you would be making it today—”
“Lady Trianne messaged you in regards to our arrival, was she not asking you to give a proper welcome?”
He grimaced. “Would it be better to just say I didn’t have it on me..?”
“Lady Aglaea.” A new voice came from behind and made Phainon yelp. Like Phainon, his clothes hung in tatters and his eyes bore that same reckless spark.
But where Phainon was scuffed and scraped from whatever madness had just unfolded, the stranger did not carry a single bruise. His skin was smooth, posture fit for a king. Amidst the disheveled hair was a single braid held neatly in place, as if by divine will or sheer arrogance. If my intuition serves this is…
“Welcome to Okhema, Prince Mydeimos.”
The Crown Prince put his hands together and bowed. “It truly is an honor to be meeting you in person.”
“Likewise.”
Phainon pouted. “Ok, why the hell are you acting so cordial to Aglaea,” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “When the first thing you even said to me was an insult in your own language!”
Mydeimos crossed his arms. “The idiotic deserved to be reprimanded for their behavior, no? Or, is that not how they do it in Okhema,” He snorted. “How laughable.”
“I’m the idiotic one?!? Says the guy who—”
Aglaea tuned them out, for the sake of her sanity. I’m surrounded by children.
Instead, she turned towards the still very present and quite insufferably energetic crowd. They still hadn't dispered after Aglaea disrupted the public spar, if anything, their energy had only grown. Feet punded on the floors with the syncopation of a war drum, hands were flailed with such mania that Aglaea thought for a second the people were undergoing a spiritual possession. Someone near the back was waving something that looked like a Phainon cutout.
Truly, a masterclass of restraint.
“Teacher, I trust you’ll bring the Kremnoans to the living quarters?”
“Yep, we're on it!”
“I’ll deal with these two then.” This was going to be a long day.
Using her threads to neatly part the two before either could protest ,she then bound their hands together and connected them to her finger, creating a leash of sorts.
“Both of you,” She tightened her threads’ hold to punctuate the message. “Come with me, or there will be consequences.”
Aglaea heard Phainon mumble something to the effects of ‘We’re fucked’.
He doesn’t know half of what he’s in for.
“Please, take a seat."
Phainon sits down with his hands on his lap, humming a meaningless tune under his breath and pointedly avoiding Aglaea's gaze.
On the other hand, Mydeimos lounged on the chair with his arms crossed and menacingly staring her down. It's a cute attempt at intimidation, but it would take the entire Grove being taken by the Black Tide to actually cause Aglaea even the slightest bit of apprehension.
This is going to take a while, she can feel it. Picking up Phainon’s tattered garments, Aglaea begins to stitch the torn pieces back together and sweaves them into something more presentable.
She initiates the impromptu meeting by giving Mydeimos a run-down of how the Chrysos Heirs operate, along with a list of rules of how to present and act in public accordingly. Aglaea also gave examples of what not to do, each one accompanied by a pointed glance at Phainon.
Each time without fail, he stared at the floor like he was weighing the virtues of vanishing into it.
Mydeimos, for his part, listened with the kind of attentiveness Aglaea likely wished were more common among the people. He didn’t merely nod along, either: he raised the occasional question, underlined a few weak spots in their defenses, and even had the courage to disagree with some of her points.
Not that Aglaea took offense. On the contrary, she was faintly pleased, as though discovering a companion who might prove worth the effort.
When she finished her briefing, Aglaea clasped her hands together. “Lastly, regarding the Kremnoan welcome ceremony,”
Phainon held back a shudder, likely knowing what was in store for him.
"Thankfully, no civilian was harmed during the incident at the market today, although there was some damage to a few buildings. I would like to extend my deepest condolences regarding what happened today during the welcome ceremony."
Giving a short head bow, she motioned for Phainon to do the same.
He started to protest, his tone edged with defiance. "I didn't even do anything wrong—"
“Grace sometimes requires us to concede, even when pride insists otherwise.” Aglaea narrowed her eyes. "Apologize."
He curls his hands into fists a bites his tongue down hard enough to draw blood, but ultimately bows his head.
"Please pardon my rude behavior during your welcome ceremony into Okhema," Phainon said through gritted teeth. "I apologize on behalf of my mistakes."
"You're pardoned." Mydeimos deadpanned.
Phainon shot the crown prince an incredulos look, before turning towards Aglaea. She could only shrug.
The moment it became clear she wasn’t backing him, Phainon let out a breath that was half sigh, half surrender. "Is there anything else, Lady Aglaea?"
"You'll be cleaning the baths for the next week as compensation."
He grimaced. "As you wish."
A contemplative silence settled over the room, before Phainon stood up from his chair.
“As informative as this was,” He clapped his hands and slowly inched his way towards the door. “I should really get going to, you know, start cleaning the baths.”
Aglaea hummed, internally weighing the decision of whether she should make the two spend more time together. The rational part of her was telling her no, that they will have plenty of more time to get acquainted.
Yet the romantic side of her was practically begging for Aglaea to send them out on an excursion together, already sketching out itineraries.
In the end, the latter won out.
Really, what was the harm in trying?
"Phainon," she said, a slow smile curling her lips as he made a noise of acknowledgment. "While you're at it, give the Crown Prince a tour of Okhema."
Phainon looked as if he wanted to do anything but comply, his expression tightening with reluctance. Yet, after a brief pause, he ultimately nodded and mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.” Aglaea hummed softly. Good. He was finally learning that he couldn’t win when going up against her, not that it had ever stopped him before. His adolescence had been a long, futile campaign of resistance, marked less by victories than by an almost admirable refusal to acknowledge defeat.
Instead, it was Mydeimos who protested against her request. "Lady Aglaea, there is no need—"
"No, I insist." She raised her hand, effectively silencing him. "It's the least we could after giving you such a hostile welcome."
"I can assure you that I did not take offense-"
"And, to be put bluntly, it would be best to not go against my orders."
The prince seemed ready to argue further, but one piercing glance from Aglaea drained the fight from him.
"Off you go now," Without looking up, Aglaea waved them away with a flick of her hand. "Mydeimos, you'll be assigned your first mission in a few days time."
The Crown Prince murmured his assent as they shuffled out, the door clicking softly shut behind them.
Silence settled over the room.
Only then did Aglaea put down the clothing and finally let out a long-suffering sigh, closing her eyes as she resting her head. Titans, she is too tired and old to be doing all this work.
Aglaea had managed to attach a thread to Mydeimos's person during the conversation, cataloging relevant pieces of information in her mind.
She could still hear wisps of their conversation without having to call for it, a result of a newly formed connection to the Goldweavers' web.
“—you're probably famished from the journey to Okhema, let me treat you to a meal."
A flash of irritation. "I don't need your generosity, Deliverer."
"Generosity or not, you nor your people have any means to get by as of now. You can pay me back when you've procured enough currency to do so," A pause. "Another spar should suffice as well."
Mydeimos seemed to huff. "Getting practically beat into the ground can hardly be considered a spar. It would be foolish to fight and gain nothing but bruises and cuts from it."
"And yet you're not saying no." A spike of surprise and disbelief, with a hint of...respect? "Besides, going all out in a crowded market would certainly cause an innocent bystander to get hurt, wouldn't it? I wasn't trying my hardest."
There was a moment of hesitance, before Mydeimos spoke out loud. "Let us settle this for good then. Tomorrow, at the training grounds. Third quint of the entry hour. Do not be late." No, that feeling wasn't respect, it was more like...
"Oh, you are so on—"
Aglaea forced herself to stop listening in. You've got to be kidding me.
It hasn't even been two quints since they first met, and Mydeimos is already admiring Phainon. Aglaea considers taking a drink, but that isn't going to solve her inner dilemma.
She is not considering being an arranger for them, thank you very much.
The note, still in her hand, seemed to raise a brow. Aglaea could only halfhartely glare at it.
A warm hand grabbed onto the thread, and started to guide it's owner in a different direction.
"—I wont let you get lost in these crowds, Mydeimos." His heart appeared to skip a beat, before resuming it's average cadence.
"Don’t call me that if you can't pronounce it right." A strange thing to fixate on, but then, the Crown Prince already struck Aglaea as the type who means more than he says.
Theres a beat. "I see. Mydei, then."
Mydeimos' breath hitched, before getting filled with a inexplecible feeling of warmth—
Aglaea banged her head on the table. She doesn't even want to know what Phainon is looking like at this point.
Probably sporting a dumbstruck smile like a fool.
She bangs her head once more for good measure.
Aglaea let her forehead rest against the table, the cool surface doing little to dull the growing ache (physical or otherwise). She stayed there a beat longer than necessary, as if gravity might spare her from what she already knew.
With a sigh, she lifted her eyes to the note once more.
Mydeimos, for better of worse, fits the description perfectly.
...
Aglaea was doomed to mettle from the start, wasn't she?
She does suppose they would suit one another well enough, a gentle nudge would perhaps guide them towards each other. Even with her humanity all but withered away, Agalea is not so blind to miss the blooming threads of a relationship right before her eyes. Although, it would be more preferable if Phainon found a less...bloodthirsty beau, for lack of a better word. Regrettable, but nothing to be done.
Beggars cannot be choosers.
She would have to put in a considerable amount of effort, but Aglaea is sure she can make them confess by the end of the year.
After all, she is the bearer of the romance coreflame.
What could possibly go wrong?