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Part 1 of you let me see thy heart , Part 3 of Sun and Moon - Delta's PhaiDei/MyPhai fics
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2025-02-27
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1/1
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for not all tears are an evil

Summary:

“I…I never would have guessed that of all the competitions we’ve had over the years, an ‘endure the hot baths’ competition would be our l-last.”

It is supposed to be a joke, light and glib, but Phainon’s voice cracks on the final word. Last. He hastily flashes his easy smile to try and cover it up, but that action spurs tears to uncontrollably well in his eyes.

Breaking eye contact, Phainon looks away. A shuddering breath escapes him, before he all but whispers, “Hah…you must think me frail hearted.”

Mydei does not respond immediately. Instead, Phainon feels a gentle touch on the edge of his jaw. It tenderly guides his gaze back to Mydei’s own.

Then, with steely conviction, Mydei speaks.

“Never.”

....

“But…what do you mean by ‘our last’?”

Phainon is filled with grief at Mydei's departure from Okhema.
Mydei fills Phainon's heart with hope.

An alternative ending to 3.1

Notes:

Title, and quote within, from J.R.R. Tolkien.

I've never written anything this fast before in my life, I felt compelled to get this out. Apologies if there are any typos!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The city of Okhema is jubilant today. Crowds have gathered along all the main streets, excited murmurings bouncing from shop to shop, corner to corner. Feelings of joy and pride swell within the populace, so strong as to be as tangible as burnt incense.

Phainon feels like a blot of black ink on the pure white canvas of the day.

He should feel the same. The phantom that had haunted his dreams is defeated, at least for now. The Flame Chase has awakened another demigod, and retrieved two more Coreflames.

And yet, as he escorts Mydei down the road leading out of Okhema, all that Phainon can feel is overwhelming grief.

Because Mydei is leaving him.

Mydei is set to leave the city. To go and ‘defend Amphoreus against the black tide’, as Aglaea had told him barely more than an hour ago. Phainon knows what that means. The black tide is an endless threat, and has only grown worse, more violent, more aggressive in the passing months. Mydei could fight it eternally and never fully best it, not until the Flame Chase prophecy is fulfilled, their journey reaches its end, and Phainon has ushered in the miracle of a new world.

Thus he would not see Mydei again.

The realization had hit Phainon like a knife to his gut. A myriad of emotions had assaulted him in the time since. Sadness, loss, helplessness. But most potent of all had been the regret. Regret had flooded him, still floods him as he and Mydei near their destination.

For all the good times he and Mydei have shared, their triumphs and losses, their amicable rivalry, their closeness as comrades, there is, for Phainon at least, something more bubbling beneath the surface of their relationship. Something hard to describe, something that they both danced around in subtle moments that had felt all at once too close and not close enough. The right moment to broach that paradoxic inviting uncertainty just never seemed to come.

Phainon cannot decide if he truly regrets not telling Mydei with whom his heart lies, or if that would have only increased the pain of this moment to a soul breaking level. The decision has already been made by Phainon’s own inaction.

But this is his fate, as Deliverer, is it not? To be so utterly alone. So perhaps it was for the best.

They come to a stop halfway down the slope, away from the crowd. It is private.

Mydei has not spoken since they left the city.

Phainon tries to hold it together, as best he can. Leave Mydei with the memory of their banter, at least.

“Why so quiet? I thought divinity would wash away some of your sentiments.”

Mydei glances at him, expression guarded. “Do you truly feel as carefree as you seem? Or…is this just another facade?”

Oh, wonderful, he’s been seen through like glass immediately. An uncomfortable tightness coils in Phainon’s chest. “Indeed. I just thought that putting on a nonchalant front for this occasion might help us preserve some dignity.”

He does not sound like he believes his own words. His usual affable facade is in tatters. He only hopes that Mydei will grant him some grace.

Mercifully, he seems to, not remarking on Phainon’s words. Instead, he asks, “I have a favor to ask. While I am gone, please look after the Kremnoan warriors. In my absence, they will face challenges while assimilating into Okhema, and they would do well to have a strong leader with them.”

“Of course,” Phainon says. It won’t be easy, with the constant reminder of Mydei’s absence. But he will do it. “Leave it to me. It would be an honor.”

Phainon’s chest is tightening by the second. His words, oft a weapon as reliable as his sword, are running away from him, clamoring up his throat and out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“I…I never would have guessed that of all the competitions we’ve had over the years, an ‘endure the hot baths’ competition would be our l-last.”

It is supposed to be a joke, light and glib, but Phainon’s voice cracks on the final word. Last. He hastily flashes his easy smile to try and cover it up, but that action only spurs tears to uncontrollably well in his eyes.

He sees the now blurry form of Mydei stiffen. Oh, Phainon has ruined this now, hasn’t he?

Breaking eye contact, Phainon looks away. A shuddering breath escapes him, before he all but whispers, “Hah…you must think me frail hearted.”

Mydei does not respond immediately. Instead, Phainon feels a gentle touch on the edge of his jaw. It tenderly guides his gaze back to Mydei’s own.

Then, with steely conviction, Mydei speaks.

“Never.”

That word, the feeling of Mydei still touching his jaw, the action so intimate, is all too much. Phainon closes his eyes and feels his tears begin to fall. He swallows around the sharp lump in his throat. He doesn’t know what to do.

He feels the cool brush of metal against one cheekbone, then the other, carefully wiping away his tears. The other hand on his jaw remains, softly stroking his skin. The feeling makes Phainon wonder about what could have been, and that wonder is a piercing shot to his already fragile heart.

When Mydei finally speaks, his voice is quiet and even. “I see only strength before me, Phainon. And…I will not tell you not to weep, for I know that not all tears are an evil.” He pauses, long enough for the sentiment to settle peacefully in Phainon’s mind. It is a kind thing for Mydei to say.

Mydei continues, voice now tinted with concern. “But…what do you mean by ‘our last’?”

Phainon opens his eyes at that. Mydei’s brow is creased, head tilted slightly in confusion. Confusion that reflects in Phainon’s mind.

When he answers, his voice quivers, and he hates the sound of it. “Aglaea…she proclaimed that you were to leave to assume Nikador’s duties.”

Mydei nods.

Ah, so he’ll have to speak the worst part out loud. Alright. “Does that not mean you’re leaving us for good? The black tide is endless. It—”

He stops talking as Mydei’s eyes widen in shock.

They stare at each other in silence for a moment.

Then, Mydei speaks. “I have a duty to this world, yes. I will indeed take up Nikador’s battle against the black tide. But…Aglaea herself holds the philosophy that life, even for us demi gods,” the first syllable is intensely stressed, “life must be lived, even in these end times, does she not?”

Phainon can only nod. He feels too vulnerable to allow himself to hope.

Mydei sets him with a determined gaze. “Well, I intend to live. I have my duty to the Flame Chase, but I also have my wants. Like Geocles, I intend to change the fate of my people, to free them from their bloodstained shackles, by my actions. I won’t shirk that duty. And the Flame Chase journey will always come first…I have no doubt that my journeys will be long and my battle arduous.” And then he smiles at Phainon, a crooked grin, and it is the best thing Phainon has ever seen. “But what is life without, even if only occasionally, returning home? I want that. So, when I can, I will.”

In a rush, Phainon lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “…not to Kremnos?” he asks gingerly. In his heart, he realizes, he knows the answer. But he needs to hear Mydei say it.

Mydei shakes his head. “Kremnos is my duty. But when I was tossed from those cliffs into the sea as a mere child, only eventually returning to sack the city…how could it ever be my home? An obligation, yes, and I will return there first. But my home….”

He looks up, above Phainon’s head, to the city. A softness fills his expression, assured, and Phainon almost forgets that he stands in the presence — and the grasp, still — of a demigod.

“My home has always been here.” Mydei looks back down at Phainon, and his gaze lingers. A familiar thread of tension coils between them. “And…” Mydei’s fingers stroke Phainon’s jaw once again. “And what I….”

Phainon feels Mydei’s hand slip from his jawline. But it does not leave his skin. Instead, Mydei slowly glides his hand down the column of Phainon’s throat, fingers tracing a delicate pattern. In their wake, they leave a trail of fire across Phainon’s skin. Mydei’s hand comes to rest at the side of his neck, thumb against his racing pulse. It is shockingly, frightfully, wonderfully intimate. Phainon thoughts are a jumble, and he can barely pay attention to Mydei’s words.

He manages, though, and is glad for it, because in Mydei’s tone he hears the only hint of hesitation he’s heard since Mydei became a demigod.

“What I…desire…is here as well.” Mydei glances away, sheepish, which is a ridiculous and precious look on him. “If, that is…if it is requited.”

Requited…?

…oh.

Mydei is not leaving him for good. And Mydei just…confessed to him.

The singular stray thought that passes through Phainon’s mind is that this is what it must feel like to be one of those sprites that hide in the city, to be so utterly shocked at something that you simply pop out of existence. Every other thought in Phainon’s mind is swirling into a maelstrom of realization. All of he and Mydei’s previous interactions, the heated glances, the lingering touches, the quiet unspoken moments, they all crystallize into a remarkably simple and clear shape.

This realization, as glorious as it is, takes Phainon a few seconds to process. In these seconds, Mydei’s expression grows nervous. He removes his hand from Phainon’s neck, and that is what snaps Phainon out of his haze.

“If it is not, then I apol—”

Phainon surges forward and cuts Mydei off with a kiss, flinging his arms around Mydei’s broad shoulders. Mydei’s own hands snap to Phainon’s waist.

It is a clumsy kiss, the angle not quite right and he has pressed himself far too tightly to Mydei for it to really be comfortable. But it is perfect.

They pull back from the kiss, though Phainon keeps his arms looped around Mydei’s shoulders, and Mydei’s arms appear reluctant to leave Phainon’s waist.

Mydei looks a little dazed. Phainon takes the opportunity to speak first.

“I, I’m sorry. I should have told you long ago.”

Mydei shakes his head. “No. Doubt is a poison, and the past immutable. We look to the future only. Alright?”

The future. Phainon nods. “I will.”

“So,” Mydei sighs, but his lips are curled into a smile. “To clear up any lingering confusion, Deliverer, I will likely be gone for long stretches. But I will return whenever I can.”

Phainon buries his head into the crook of Mydei’s shoulder at that, smiling. Hope blooms in his chest. It has been so long since he’d felt such joy.

“And,” Mydei continues. His voice rumbles pleasantly against Phainon’s ear. “If you ever need me, you know how to call me.”

“…huh?” He pulls back and looks at Mydei. “What do you mean?”

He’s treated to an eye roll at that. “Did you strike your head and lose your memory in the battle against the Flame Reaver?”

Phainon scoffs, “No, of course not.”

Mydei sighs. “You don't remember my words before my trial?” 

He quirks an eyebrow. “Only some of them. In my defense, my memory of that is mostly consumed by you telling me how to kill you.”

Mydei has the decency to look guilty at that. “Ah, right. Well. I also told you if you ever found yourself with no other recourse, then pray to the blade in the sky and cry out the name of the new god."

“I…thought that was just in Castrum Kremnos. Or that it was you trying your hand at a new type of poetry.”

Mydei chuckles, and the air tickles Phainon’s nose. “No. Cerces whispered a secret in my ear while we fought the Flame Reaver. The Titans of Amphoreus are all– were all connected. Some more than others — the bond between the boughs of Cerces's tree of knowledge and Mnestia’s golden thread is akin to forged steel. But even Strife, one of the three calamities, is linked to its brethren. I can sense the subtle passages of Janus…the hanging threads of Mnestia. If you call me, I will hear you, and I will come. I swear it.”

The warmth Phainon feels flooding his chest is indescribable. “I’ll hold you to that. When I find a field of enemies particularly ripe for competition, I’ll give it a try.”

“Hah! I am now Strife itself, and you still want to compete with me?”

“Always,” Phainon answers instantly, firm. Then, softly, “Always….”

He doesn’t know who moves first.

Their second kiss is slower, warmer. It lingers. It is also perfect.

They hold each other for a few moments longer. Some unspoken thing is passed between them, Phainon feels.

He lets go first, unwinding his arms from Mydei’s shoulders. As he steps back, Mydei’s hands linger at his waist before letting go.

“Well.” Phainon smiles at Mydei, and this time he doesn’t feel like he’s breaking. “May triumph always be yours, Mydeimos. And…like Trianne always said. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mydei. Whenever that may be.”

Mydei nods and smiles as well, subtle but warm. “That west wind will guide me back here. I’ll be seeing you, Phainon.”

The departure still hurts. But it is bittersweet now. Longing mixed with joy. Fear blended with pride. Sorrow mingled with love.

But most of all, Phainon feels hope. 

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading <3.

So I am a bit frustrated with the game for how it handled Mydei's ending in this patch. Everything else about Mydei's story was magnificent, absolutely stellar, zero notes. But his "you won't see me again until the very end" departure at the end of the quest left me with a sour feeling. It honestly felt like he was being pushed aside to make room for future characters, because 12 Chrysos Heirs *plus* our regular gang is a lot! I get it, and I wouldn't expect Mydei to have a large part in the story again until the end. But the explanation that Mydei must spend ALL of his time in Castrum Kremnos felt weak to me, and, well, it made me sad. So here we are.

Title and quote inspired by the fact that although this quest made me cry (for Mydei and Tribbie), it inspired me to write more as well. I have two other PhaiDei fics on my profile, and I have SO many ideas I will absolutely be writing more of them soon!

*Also*, as a fun bit, did anyone else immediately think of Xiao when Mydei had the whole "call the name of the new god and I will come" bit?? Well I did. I loved it. I did tweak the dialogue, the canon dialogue makes it clear that it is just for the fight against the Flame Reaver, but I don't care, my fic my headcanon. I made up some lore to justify it, and I plan to explore the idea in future fics.