May your slumber be filled with warmth.
— content: 1,6k, angsty comfort, kinda going on a tangent about phainon's character again whoops, let's imagine there's day n night cycles in okhema, might be ooc to some people (i hope not😔), english is not my first language and some mistakes might have slipped!
note: ayyyy, lyly at it again with a phainon piece! bc he's literally the only one pushing me to explore his character and all the layers and nuances that comes with it. ngl the end might feel rushed, i started to miss brain juice
! art creds to @/code_tesseract on twt
It starts light, just the soft rustling of sheets made by the movement of the man on the other side of the bed. It was nothing unusual, even in sleep, he seemed to have an endless amount of energy. But, it gets to a point that this restlessness will disturb the sleep of the people around.
It’s not something you are unfamiliar with. Phainon holds a lot on his shoulders and he’s good at keeping it to himself. To the untrained eye, he looks happy and honoured to be the chosen one who will lead Amphoreus to tomorrow. The reality is more dull. He’s just a man. A man whose childhood memories were ripped from his hands, leaving behind only the ruins of an unknown land. Someone who took a title nobody wanted to bare in hopes to calm this deep rooted rage for the forces that dared to destroy his world and continue to do so. But this truth will not be able to bring hope to the people now, will it?
And so, this weight is his own to hold, just like the responsibilities of the Deliverer.
You knew about this. He hid his sleepless nights, never wanting to be a bother. Once you caught one, a crack to his inner world opened. Under the soft moonlight filtered through the curtains, he shared. About how he misses his family and that he always trained for things to not end the way they did only for fate to decide otherwise. With the stars as witness over many nights, he confessed slowly. Reality doesn’t exist during those moments. No piercing eyes analysing his every move and no image to keep up with. Only you, someone he learned to trust.
All he wanted was a simple life in Aedes Elysiae, but he took a job nobody else could do.
He swears it’s not always negative. He loves how he’s able to push back the Black Tides in exchange for more peaceful days for the people of Okhema. Even if he can’t save every civilian (a truth that is hard to accept), the lives he saved was worth every pain. There was a time he innocently believed he could bring the dawn out of pure ambition, just because people told him he could do it. But now, he knows what the Lady Goldweaver meant by “the Flame-Chase is a journey of constant loss.”
Your eyes slowly opened. The room was barely lit, apparently the moon was hiding away somewhere under the clouds tonight. You feel him toss in his sleep, his breathing uneven. You slowly turn to face his body only to be met with his face. It was quite a sad sight to see. Hair unruly, eyes shut tightly and brows furrowed.
While your soft hand pushes back the hair in front of his face, you wait for the light touches to seep through his skin in hopes it will calm his mind. He originally came to your shared space with such a tired expression. If you can manage to sooth him in his sleep, it would be the best. You continue, analyzing all the subtle changes in his expression. You wonder what he’s thinking about or if he’ll let you have this part of his mind this time. If not, it’s fine, you’ll stay by his side for as long as he needs.
You lose track of time at that point, the only thing that took you out of this careful trance was a sudden jolt from the body laying beside you. A sharp inhale and his light blue eyes shot open. After all, his mind finally had enough. Your fingertips graze over his temple, “hey,” you utter slowly, as not to startle him more, “it’s okay, I’m here.” You can feel his breath on your arm, still quick, still shaken up from the hostile land of dreams. His eyes shot up and some sort of switch flipped in his head. He exhaled, wrapping his arms around your body. His head instinctively finds its place on your chest, ear over your heart. He follows your breathing, slowing down with each passing seconds.
Your hand finds its way back in his hair, petting through his soft, yet tangled, strands of white fluff. His hold on you becomes stronger, just enough to make any escape impossible. Your other hand slowly slides up his back to his neck. The emblem of the Sun, a constant reminder of what he is fated to be.
You remember one night, the water of the Hero’s baths turned lukewarm from the time spent basking in each other's presence. With curiosity, you let your index finger touch the side of his neck. He flinched back. Excuses fall from your lips, you never wanted to make him feel uncomfortable, but he is quick to reassure you. He seemed hesitant for a moment. “This mark is a constant reminder of what I have to bear.” It is a truth, you can not deny that. Still, you express how it’s still deserving of love. It’s a part of him, whether it represents a heavy fate or the promised dawn he must create. “It is still beautiful, a part of you” you smile, “and that is enough for me to find it fascinating.” You try again, your hand approaching his tattoo and he lets you touch it. It is an unfamiliar feeling, someone finding beauty from something he always wondered why it needed to sit on his neck.
Ever since that time, you realized he finds comfort in the soft lingering touches on the symbol of his burden. Maybe because it feels like he is sharing it with someone who finds beauty in a side of himself he didn’t understand. And so, you start tracing one of the triangular shapes of the Sun. You can feel some tension on his body release, going slack on your body. “Do you want to talk about it?” you ask while tracing the next triangle. He shakes his head, “not now” is all you manage to hear, his voice muffled by your chest. A soft smile makes its way on your face, “Alright, then I’ll stay right here.” And you do. You stay under him, grounding him back in reality. The steady beat of your heart, the soft massaging gesture on his scalp and the light tracing of his tattoo pulls him away from the dark corners of his mind, somewhere he doesn’t want to linger for too long.
He doesn’t know which triangle you are at right now, but he spoke. “I still think about what could’ve gone differently.” You couldn’t be exactly sure about which event exactly he talks about. He holds so many regrets from past battlefields. There was no clear mention, you guessed the twisted images of his restless dream lingered again in his conscious mind. You don’t pry more, you know this is not what’s needed for now. “I know it’s a hard reality,” you say, he could hear the rumble of your voice intertwining in your ribs, “but as much as you hold the world in your hands, you are still human.” His breath hitched, but you still pressed your words in hope it would calm his racing mind, if at least a little.
“You did what you could in the moment and it’s not because you are not enough,” you switch shape again, coming closer and closer to the circle, the heart of the Sun. “The enemy is inhuman, an incomprehensible force for living beings” you start to feel a damp spot on your sleeping shirt. Even in a safe space, he still holds back. You can barely hear his quiet sniffle, but you noticed and that’s what mattered.
You start tracing the circle, “it’s completely normal to feel powerless, that’s why I’m here,” his hold on you stays firm, his hand clenching your shirt. “I’ll hold the broken pieces and put them back, one by one.” That’s when he let it go. Broken sobs can be heard in the otherwise silent room. Your shirt will be damped and might have some wrinkles, but it doesn’t matter. It’s insignificant compared to what Phainon does for everyone, for you, every single day. You continue to trace along the circle, a repetitive motion to show him you are there and you are not going anywhere.
The warriors in stories are always described as the strongest form of humanity, always leading others with confidence to victory. But you always wondered, if they were still mere mortals like everyone, did they ever doubt their capacities? Or is there time in which they hesitated? Civilians only see the embellished stories of the Chrysos heirs, they will never see what happens behind all the bravado.
Now, you have one of the beloved heroes in your heart. You see his reality. And for all he sacrificed for the future, all you can do is to comfort the broken heart of a normal man in extraordinary circumstances. It pales in comparison, but it is what you can do for him.
His breathing slowed, “I hope I never have to lose you” he murmurs, voice cracking slightly. You hum. Both of you know it’s a lot to ask for in the reality you live in, but “I’ll make sure I will not strip away with all my strength for as long as the Titans let me.” You lean your head on his, closing your eyes. “Now rest, I’m here and you know I am not leaving.”
Phainon always thought he had to hold himself together for the sake of others. Be the bigger person and embody the hope Amphoreus needs. With you, he learnt he could let go. That not everybody held impossible expectations. Because you just wanted him happy. You didn’t want to bask in the Deliverer’s shine, you wanted to nurture Phainon’s inner flame.
You finished tracing the shapes, the Sun finally resting again with only the Moon looking over him.
thanks so much for reading!! hope u liked it :) - all rights reserved, ask before reposting on other socials or publish a translation & do NOT feed to ai/use for ai chat bots.
