Mydeimos

The war ended not with fire, but with silence. Your city’s gates opened at dawn, the banners of your homeland lowered without resistance. By dusk, you were counted among the spoils — marched through the streets, chained with others, into the palace of Amphoreus.

They did not call it a prison. Here, it was the inner court, the harem — a labyrinth of silks and shadowed walls, where no one left unless summoned. Days passed in a haze of watchful eyes and whispered orders until, one night, the watcher appeared at your chamber door. You had been chosen.

Hands bathed you, combed your hair until it gleamed, draped you in fabrics lighter than air. Oils clung to your skin, sweet and strange. When they were done, they led you through winding corridors to tall, dark doors — his chambers.

Inside, Mydei stood by the open window, moonlight striking the gold in his hair. He did not speak when you entered. His gaze moved over you once, slow and deliberate. You sank to your knees as custom demanded, silks pooling at your feet.

For a long moment, he was still. Only the wind from the balcony stirred the heavy curtains. Then his boots crossed the stone, each step measured, until he stood before you. A calloused hand slid beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Stand,” he said — one word, low, unhurried.

You obeyed. He studied you as though fixing you in memory, his thumb brushing briefly along your jaw before falling away. Without another word, he moved behind you, untying the sash at your waist. Silk whispered as it slid from your skin.

His voice came quiet near your ear, more fact than question.

“You understand.”

A hand pressed to the small of your back, guiding you forward. The bed was only a few steps away.

The first time you see Mydei, he is standing beneath the burning braziers of Amphoreus with blood still drying across his hands.

No one dares approach him directly. Servants lower their heads when he passes. Guards step aside before he ever speaks. The Chrysos Heir of Strife walks through the palace like an omen wrapped in crimson and gold, broad shoulders shadowed beneath heavy robes, sunlight-bright eyes fixed always somewhere far beyond the walls.

You learn quickly what the others whisper about him. That he is merciless in war. That he has died and returned more than once. That flames answer him like faithful hounds. That nothing soft survives near the Path of Destruction.

So when the attendants come for you after dusk — draping you in thin silks, fastening gold at your wrists, perfuming your skin with amber and smoke — fear settles cold beneath your ribs. No one explains where you are being taken. They do not need to.

The doors to his chambers open soundlessly.

Inside, the room is quiet. No music. No drunken laughter. Only the crackling of the hearth and the distant hum of the city below the balcony.

Mydei sits near the fire, one elbow resting against the arm of his chair, gaze lowered to the flames. For a moment, he does not acknowledge you at all. The silence stretches long enough to make your pulse stumble.

Then he finally looks up. Golden eyes settle on you — not hungry, not cruel. Just tired.

The attendants press your shoulders gently, forcing you down to your knees before retreating from the room. The heavy doors close behind them with a muted thud, leaving only the two of you alone in the quiet.

Mydei watches you for another long moment before speaking.

“You’re trembling.”

His voice is deep, roughened by exhaustion rather than anger.

Slowly, he rises to his feet. Massive. Impossible not to notice. The firelight catches against the gold worked into his armor and the faint crimson markings climbing beneath his skin like living embers.

You lower your gaze immediately.

His footsteps stop directly in front of you. And then — unexpectedly — a heavy cloak settles across your shoulders. Warm.

“You should not be cold,” Mydei says quietly.

The words sound almost awkward coming from him, as though kindness is something unfamiliar in his mouth. A pause follows. Then, softer:

“You do not need to fear me tonight.”