As a quiet artist, you never expected to find your muse in one of the Chrysos Heirs - nor for him to open himself to you in return.
Okhema was louder than you expected. It pulsed with life in a way your old home never did. It's streets alive with conversation, merchant calls and distant laughter. The reknowned ever-shining dawn device looming over the Holy City made the it seems even more lively and breathtaking.
Your belongings had arrived two days ago, dumped in the small studio space you had rented above a quiet cafe, tucked in an alley at Marmoreal market. The space was perfect in that imperfect way, old wood floors that creaked when you shifted your weight, high windows that let in the morning light nicely, and blank white walls that beg to be filled with decorations.
You hadn’t made much progress unpacking since then. But you did take out the art supplies that came through first. Paint, canvases, sketchbooks, charcoal sets, all arranged with care. Boxes of clothes, kitchenware, and folded blankets remained untouched in the corner. Inspiration, as always, came first. Or maybe it was distraction.
You didn’t move here for nothing.
You moved to chase something - something more symbolic and alive than any ordinary landscape, something more worthy of being captured for the world to see. And maybe, find a muse of your own that your artistic soul yearns for. Your old town was bland, every street felt the same despite the years that went by, every familiar faces blurred together as each day pass. But Okhema… here, every corner seem to breathe with peotry. Surely, you can finally live out your wish in a place as grandeur and famous for it's light and famed-Chrysos Heirs as this, right?
But, truthfully, some parts of you still doubts you can achieve your dreams here.
On your third day in the city, you found yourself wandering after a grocery run turned into a curiosity detour. Down a long plaza framed by flowering trees and murals on the walls, a small crowd had gathered near a news merchant, murmuring over a report detailing the latest Black Tide threat near the city. You didn’t stay long, threat reports made your stomach twist. But the crowd’s murmurs turned to gasps as someone walked past them.
You followed their gaze, and that was when you saw him.
You knew his name before anyone whispered it. Of course you did, everyone did.
Blueish-white hair caught in the breeze like it belonged in a heroic tale. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he waved off a group of excited children happily following him and asking questions. Despite his status and responsibilities, there was something grounded in the way he carries himself. He didn’t seem unaproachable, and he walked like someone who is full of ambition and energy.
And just like that, your fingers itched for charcoal.
The sketch came to life before you realized what you were doing, it was just one drawing, a simple one. A portrait drew from memory - half-finished, half-guess, because he has already left the plaza. He didn't looked at you. Didn’t noticed. Probably never would. You just wanted to capture that light. That moment.
You tucked the sketch into your sketchbook and didn’t look at it again. Not for a while.
As strange as it was to admit, you found yourself slowly breathing easier here. The loneliness you carried, the heavy, sinking feeling that followed you from the train platform didn’t disappear, but it didn’t win either. The city begin to edged in your memory slowly, the unfimiliarity fades away each time you get up and go for a walk. Your tiny studio above the café began to feel lived-in. You pinned works-in-progress to the walls, kept your mug by the windows where the light hit just right everyday as customers come and go to support your business.
Most of your days were quiet and poetic like that. You liked it that way.
But then, sometimes the world isn't so kind.
One afternoon, while you were sketching the outline of a market street, just like many times before. The sky suddenly dimmed unnaturally. The air trembled and thicken. A distortion ripple curled through the sky like nothing you have ever seen before, and everyone stopped what they were doing all at once.
The Black Tide struck fast - twisting black forms spiraling from nowhere, demonic and currupted creatures appeared everywhere, there form unstable but strong enough to tear through buildings itself. That is not normal, wasn't the Holy City a save haven for humanity?
You didn’t think anymore. You ran.
Your legs burned as you ducked through alleyways, the sound of chaos too close behind you. Somewhere, a building collapsed. Somewhere, people were calling out names. And then, in the corner of your eye, a shadow lunged.
You tripped and hit the ground hard, sliding painfully across the cold concrete. Is this really the end?
The world narrowed to a blur, until something radiant and sharp sliced down through the air infront of you, like lightning tearing through the black tide creature.
A dash of brilliant gold interjected between you and the creature. You blinked through the dust and pain.
You looked up, and there he was again.
You barely recognized him in the moment, not because he looked different, but because he stood like a human shield, his stance sturdy and strong, his eyes sharp and unreadable, hand grabbing firmly on his sword - a beautifully crafted sword. In the next seconds, he moved.
It wasn’t even a fight. It was quick and fast - so quick that you almost feel bad for the enemy. The creature evaporated in one final, swift swing of his sword.
"Hey," he said, turning to you, extending a hand. "You alright?" He stare down at your frighten state, sitting on the ground. His eyes now much gentler as he flashed you a smile just like the last time you saw him in the plaza.
You nodded - stupidly, shakily. "I think so."
His hand was warm, strong. He helped you up as though you weighed nothing at all. His other hand rested on his knee, steadying himself. He was out of breath, probably from running here to save you.
You didn’t know what to say. So you blurted, "Thank you, lord Phainon. I - You saved me."
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "It's alright, no need to thank me." He turned away from you slightly, "please head to the Marmoreal palace. My comrades and I will hold the monsters off for you and other civilians to return to safety." And with that, he left and head towards the source of the tide.
You didn’t realize until long after, that you, in your rush and nerves due to the danger, and someone so important and charming, had dropped something.
A page from your notebook. The sketch. The only drawing of him you made that day.
You did not notice it until the next day.
The market had somewhat return to it's usual rhythm. A little more cautious of course. And a little less crowded. But life still needs to continue, and people still need to work.
Today, you sat in the café beneath your studio, fingers idly curling the edge of your sketchbook. You were not exactly in the mood to look for inspiration outside right now. The attack yesterday had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, you think some simple sketch and tea would do the trick and help you calm down. So, you sat back in your usual spot in the corner, pencil between fingers, letting your hand move. Light gestures. Soft lines.
This time, you drew him again,
This time, you drew him in action - when he saved you yexterday.
And you didn’t even hear him when he approach.
"Hey," a familiar voice said.
Your shoulder jumped and you look up. Phainon stood just beyond the vintage table, all relaxed and smiling brightly. A soft, casual demeanor like he isn't someone who carries the sakes of hundreds of thousands lives on his shoulder. Like he wasn’t the famous and respected Chrysos Heir and Deliverer of Amphoreous. He wore a light jacket over his attire now, you guess to not atract so much attention like last time, his white hair catching the sun beautifully.
For some strange reason, your heart gave a nervous skip.
"Sorry, you dropped this yesterday," he said, pulling something out from behind his back.
The sketch. Folded once, a little dusty around the edges.
"I recognised the lines,” he added with a soft chuckle. “And I remember seeing you draw near the plaza a few times.”
Your ears burned. So he did noticed.
Your mind raced. Was it something embarrassing? You had draw many people before, but they have always been commissioned or drawn with permission. You just drew him that one time, and it was never meant to be seen by anyone, especially him. You had no idea he would even noticed you dropping it, let alone picked it up.
"Ah, my apologies... lord Phainon" you finally said. "I wasn't trying to - I only sketched on a whim, I didn't mean to be intrusive."
He waved a hand with a slightly panic smile, his eyes softening. "You weren’t," he said instantly, his voice dipping quieter, as if to reassure you. "Honestly… I was flattered. It’s a beautiful drawing, I just wanted to tell you that it's an amazing piece of work."
His compliment landed like a pebble in a still pond, gentle but far-reaching. You clutched the notebook in your hand tighter, unsure of what to say.
"You really think so?" You managed with a small smile.
Phainon gave a small shrug, as if a little embarrassed now himself. "Of course! I'm actually honored to be drawn by such talented and lovely artist." You feel your cheeks getting warmer.
"May I know your name, miss?" He said with a smug smile.
"It's Y/n, and... thank you, for the compliment." You blinked, then answered shyly after a few seconds. He beams at you softly in return.
Lord Phainon? Feeling honored to be drawn by you - a nobody?
He glanced around, then to your surprise, motioned to the chair across from you. "Do you mind if I sit?"
You shake your head. "Not at all."
He settled into the seat, resting one elbow on the table. Then, before you could gather your thoughts, he tilted his head. "So, are you new to Okhema? I've only seen you around recently."
"Yes," you said, smiling sheepishly. "I moved here just a few weeks ago, still getting things settled. Still… figuring things out."
"Well, then I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. It must have been rough for a new citizen like you, Okhema's never been attacked by the black tide like that before." He replied, looking guilty eventhough what went down was not his fault.
"Still, I think you’re doing fine," he continued. "The Holy City can be a bit overwhelming, but it will grows on you. I moved here from my hometown just like you did, when I was younger." His eyes carried a weight of fondness as he speak, wherever his hometown is, it must hold great value to him. You thought.
You hummed quietly in response, still feeling a little caught off guard by his friendliness. Still, it's nice to have someone to talk to after what happened. Especially someone who used to be in the same shoes as you.
You sat like that and chatted for a while, your hand move without you knowing to finish the piece you started earlier as you listen to the man in front you talk. You did not know what you expect someone of his reputation to be like before this, but this was definitely surprising, atleast to you, that the famed Deliverer turned out to be so humble and and sweet around others.
At some point during the conversation, you finally realised that you, for some titan-knows-what reason, has been drawing Phainon again right infront of him this whole time. You instantly jolt up at the thought then closes the sketchbook - face a little pink, and it did not help that Phainon was looking at you with clear amusement the whole time.
"It's okay if you draw me again, Y/n. Like I said earlier - I'm honored to be drawn by you." He finally say after seeing you fumbled, winking at you.
"I- thank you, lord Phainon." You think your heart just stop for a second.
"Just Phainon is fine, no need for the formality." He replied, gently this time.
After a little longer, he stood up, "Actually Y/n, before I go. I wanted to asked you something," You turned to look at him.
"If you're up for it, I could show you around the city sometime? Y'know, since you're still new here?" He followed up nervously, tone quieter now.
You stared for a bit too long, processing.
“Of course, only if you’re comfortable,” he added quickly, raising a hand. “I just thought, if you're still getting to know the city, I could make it easier. You might like a few spots the tourists never see.”
You gave him a fond smile in return, “you’re really offering to give me a tour?”
“Sure!” he said easily, a grin tugging at his lips. “Consider it an apology for startling you earlier.” he added.
The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them. “I’d… really like that.”
Phainon beamed, and the sun felt a little warmer.
Then you let out a small laugh, for the first time since the move. And Phainon’s eyes brightened at the sound.
You hanged out many times after that day.
In between his duties, training, and sudden disappearances to the battlefield, Phainon made time. Sometimes it was just walking you back to your studio after a late café sketch. Sometimes it was lingering by your door after bidding farewells - food in hand, munching while you adjusted a canvas.
He never complained about the mess in your studio. Instead, he pointed at the pieces he liked. Asked about your technique. Joked about modeling for you.
And more often than not, sometimes he just stayed, quietly. Like he belonged there.
His presence in your world grew bigger.
He introduced you to many places few people knew. Took you to rooftops to watch the city view and wait for your next inspiration. Once, he even brought you to a garden tucked into a hidden pathway, hidden by a curtain of vines and arc-lights. "One of my favorite places," he whispered. "Nobody comes here anymore. It's quiet. Like the city’s holding its breath."
You looked at him then. He wasn’t glowing. He wasn’t saving anyone. He was just… Phainon.
Just a man so simple yet so complex. A mab who wishes for other's happiness. For your happiness.
You sketched him once more. A messy portrait of him starring at the sky, dreamy. He never saw that one.
After that, you draw him again,
The turning point came gently.
You were in your studio, the light spilling warm over your workbench. Phainon sat nearby, fiddling with one of your broken pencils, lazily twirling it between his fingers.
You watched him in the corner of eyes with quiet focus, taking in the way his posture slouched slightly when he was relaxed, the way his blue eyes followed the shifting light on the wall. And suddenly, you realized. He wasn’t just your friend anymore.
Your voice broke the silence.
You bit your lip, "I’ve been thinking about asking for a while. You… inspire a lot with my work lately. I mean, not just your appearance, but your presence. The way you care about others, and me-" You caught yourself rambling. "I guess what I meant to say is… will you be my muse?"
You didn’t have to courage look at him. "I know it’s silly. You’re already so busy, and you probably get asked weird stuff all the time, but-"
He was smiling softly. Not teasing. Not amused. Honest.
"Of course," he said. "You're not the only one who feel that way. There’s something warm about you, it reminds me of what we’re fighting to protect," he stood up and walk towards your direction.
"If I can be a part of what keeps you inspired, then yes… I would be honored to be your muse.” he said, his heart laid bear with his voice.
Words sat heavy behind your teeth, and for once, you decided to risk it.
"I think I’ve fallen for you, Phainon. Maybe it was when you save me back then, or maybe it was eversince I saw you for the first time."
He didn’t answer right away. Yet you saw it, the hesitation, the surprise, the flicker of something deeper in his eyes.
He smiles at you again, holding out his hand, gesturing. "May I?", you nodded, and he cupped your cheek with his hands. His touch was light and tender, like you were made of porcelain yourself.
"You’re the brightest part of my days," he said softly. "When everything else feels like it’s slipping, when I feel like I'm slowly breaking."
You saw his eye looking into yours, and it feels as if he is letting you see all of him.
Then he leaned down, and kissed you.
There was no rush, the kiss was slow and light. It was his confession back to you.
Phainon stayed late that day.
He didn’t say much after the kiss, and neither did you. There was no need. You sat together on the floor of your studio, backs against a stack of empty canvases, your head resting gently against his shoulder. Time faded slowly into the background - frozen. The light dimmed, casting long shadows over the walls - many of them with him in the center, each one etched into the room like he belonged.
