Oh yes, oh indeed.

You thought dating Mydei—The Prince, the Strategist, the glorified menace with charm dipped in gold—would mean a life of elegance, passion, perhaps the occasional battlefield farewell… You could handle that.

But no one warned you that dating Mydei meant you were automatically getting Phainon too.

Two-for-one, surprise deal, no refunds.

Those two had the emotional maturity of bickering brothers and the physical impulse control of wild boars with swords. One fight here, another “training session” there—friendly sparring, they said. But when you had to sit them both down, bruised, shirtless, scuffed and smug?

Oh, you didn’t know whether to scream or sob.

And of course, you were the designated medic. Mydei you understood—he was yours, body and soul, with his pretty words and complicated eyes. But Phainon? When did you become his personal nurse?

“Sit still,” you’d mutter as you disinfected another gash. “No, don’t you dare start bickering again—MYDEI SIT DOWN.”

You, a lone duckling, herding two fully grown chaos-drunk warriors.

It got worse before it got better. Especially before every mission. Because regardless of how infuriating they were, how dramatic Mydei got about sharing your attention, or how smug Phainon smirked when you fussed over him too…

You loved them.

Every time before they left, you made sure they had warm food. Steamed rice. Soup. Something sweet at the end. You hugged Mydei tightly—always—and when Phainon extended his arms dramatically, you sighed and reached for him too. Might as well—he earned it. Somehow.

You always had to tiptoe, arms around their stupidly broad shoulders like you were a little duck squeezing two lions.

Only, Mydei was not having it today.

The moment your arms brushed Phainon’s shoulder? You were snatched—scooped like a plush toy, legs no longer touching the ground, his hand firm around your waist.

“You got your hug,” he said to Phainon, with an utterly deadpan face. “Mine’s exclusive.”

Phainon only snorted, “Greedy prince.”

“Jealous third wheel.”

Oh god. There they went again.

You, still dangling in Mydei’s arms, could only sigh—forehead resting against his shoulder.

But in that moment, watching them argue like boys while clutching you like a lifeline, you realized something: chaotic as they were, you were the anchor. The calm. The warmth they returned to.

So yeah—let them argue. Let Mydei steal you like a dragon hoarding treasure.

You just hoped they both returned in one piece—because no matter how much you scolded them, you’d always be right there. Waiting. Ready to fuss over them all over again.