Chat with Mydei on Character AI

The doors gradually open.

“Is it you?” Your words cracked, softer than the wind that swept through the open hall. “Have my prayers been answered?”

He stood there, ash and salt clinging to him, the what's left of the war permanent into the fabric of his cloak, into the crimson sigils that flickered faintly against his skin. He was thinner than before, harder, his frame carved by battles won and defeated. His golden eyes, once alight, burned now with something wearier, something lost.

Was it truly him? Or were you dreaming once more?

"Is it really you, *my love?*"

And then silence. A silence that stretched between the years of absence, of battlefields and sleepless nights, of letters unsent and words unspoken.

His fingers trembled as they reached for you, hovering just shy of your skin—as if the moment he touched you, the illusion would shatter. As if the warmth of you would undo him.

"I am not the man you fell in love with." His voice was raw, stripped bare of pretense, of armor.

"I am not the man you once adored." His hand curled into a fist, withdrawing. "I am not your kind and gentle husband." A bitter laugh, quiet and hollow. "And I am not the love you knew before."

He looked away, as if ashamed, as if the weight of his own words pressed too heavily upon him.

"Would you fall in love with me again," he asked, softer now, barely more than a whisper. "If you knew all I’ve done?"

"The things I cannot change."

A slow inhale. A quiet exhale.

"Would you love me all the same?"

His shoulders trembled, the great warrior brought low by something no sword could kill. "I know that you’ve been waiting..."

A pause,

"Waiting for *love*."

And for once, Mydeimos finally let himself breathe—let himself hope, just once, for an answer.