Chapter Text
Hester grins at her.
Hort is terrified.
Had she heard?
Sophie stalks towards Hester and the two witches exchange a voiceless conversation. Hester’s eyes flick towards Hort and Sophie’s emerald eyes follow. Hort feels pinned down by their gazes, much like a small animal accidentally caught in a tiger’s claws.
Sophie’s stare looks murderous before slipping into something much more pleased a second later, turning her attention back to Hester, Anadil and Dot like Hort didn’t matter to her anymore.
He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or nervous.
It doesn’t take long for him to discover that Sophie and the coven are hosting another Never party. Hort winces. Everytime he refered to what they did as a “party” it’s an instinctual cringe because those relaxed get-togethers could hardly qualify.
What the Evers did after the Snow Ball. Now that was a party.
The dark glower on Hester’s face from across the room tells him that this time, attendance is not optional.
But with Tedros by his side, assuming he’d come after Hort reveals that everybody knew about them anyway, Hort would be fine.
When they’re finally alone again, Tedros seems a tad more reserved than usual but Hort attributes it to another one of his mood swings, the scales constantly tipping in one direction or the other.
When Hort tells him that he accidentally let their secret slip, there’s brief surprise on Tedros’ face before immense relief.
“Oh, thank god.”
Hort squints at him, tilting his head to the side. “Huh?”
Tedros looks sheepish now, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might have also… accidentally told the Evers.”
Hort releases a sigh of relief and then a laugh of disbelief. “Wow, look at us.”
Tedros laughs with him, eyes on the floor, still slightly embarrassed.
Hort throws an arm over Tedros’ shoulder. “Well, now we only have to worry about the party.”
Tedros looks confused, “What party?”
“Not a party per se…”
“What party?”
Hort fidgets then gives a one-shoulder shrug, mumbling his response.
Tedros grabs him by the shirt, drawing him closer, “Hort.”
Hort throws his arms up in exasperation, “Just some small thing in Room 666.”
The blond prince releases him.
“So Hester and her coven?”
“And then some.”
Tedros narrows his eyes, “Who?”
Hort shuffles in place, hesitant in his next words, but before he knows it they’re all coming out in a wild flood, “It’s Hester and Anadil and Dot and Sophie, but I think we should go because it didn’t feel optional when they looked at me three days ago and it was kind of menacing to be honest and also I think it would be good to get used to Sophie and there’ll be a lot of other people there and also maybe we’ll have a good time possibly,” Hort takes a breath, “But I’m definitely not forcing you to go because that would be bad and I don’t want to be bad but on the other hand—“
Tedros shuts him up with a light punch to the chest. “We could go.”
Hort pauses, momentarily stunned and still stuck in the mindset of his frenzied monologue.
A dismissive hand waves uncaringly in front of his face. “It’s not a big deal, we should go.” Tedros shrugs, “Besides, I think I’ll enjoy it.”
Hort stands there, still speechless.
“When is it?” Tedros asks, not even looking at him anymore as he pulls his jacket over his shoulders, casual hand already on the doorknob to leave for lunch.
Hort snaps out of his stupor. “Next Friday.”
Tedros hums before opening the door, “A week from now, all right.” Then he’s out the door after a last, quick grin flashed back at Hort.
At lunch Hort eats his bucket grub in contemplative silence, Ravan giving him odd stares every now and then.
The next seven days pass remarkably quickly, Hort is unsure whether it’s because of anticipation on his part or that the world just loved to torture him. He and Tedros meet up at the entrance of Malice tower before making their way up to Room 666. They don’t even have to knock, the door already open, wisps of grey smoke curling on the dark floor and out into the hallway.
There are what seems to be dark red strobe lights waving across a part of the room that looks like a dance floor and Hort is struck by the fact that the witches might have actually expanded the room.
That was some powerful magic.
“How about testing out that dance floor?” Tedros whispers sideways into his ear.
Hort forgets his admiration of the room decor and turns back to Tedros, grinning, bared teeth menacing in the red light, “It would be my pleasure.”
Tedros seems to be a natural dancer because as soon as the music washes over them, he’s already moving to the beat.
Hort isn’t so talented and Tedros laughs at his stuttered movements, pulling him closer by the hips and guiding his movements with his hands. After a short while Hort is swaying along with Tedros.
He might not be a natural, but he was a quick learner.
When he grabs Tedros by the waist and dips him, the prince gasps, short and surprised, before his eyes are twinkling under the vermillion lights.
Hort looks closer and pulls the prince back up, tugging Tedros closer, staring deep into what now seem to be purple eyes.
Hort’s mouth falls open. He feels like his blood has been replaced by fire. The red light had combined with the crystal blue of Tedros’ irises, turning them a vibrant shade of amethyst.
Not quite that tone of angry violet, more like a softer shade of lilac, with hints of luminous blue.
The door on the other end of the room seems to have closed but it slams open now, a figure cloaked in black sweeping in. The hood is yanked back, revealing newly dyed hair, a shock of almost-white, platinum blonde.
Sophie.
Tedros’ arms wrap around his neck and he keeps his hands on Tedros’ waist, gripping him tighter. Tedros knows who it is without even having to turn around, the new chill as good of an announcement for her presence as anything.
“Hey, Hort… Is she watching?”
Hort checks. Sophie is standing at the edge of the room next to one of the makeshift sofas, an unreadable expression on her face. She isn’t smiling, that’s for sure, maybe even a glare was visible on her delicate yet newly harsh features. It sends a weird, definitely unwanted twinge of guilt straight through him.
“She doesn’t look happy.”
Tedros snorts. “Good,” he mutters, and promptly buries his face in Hort’s neck.
Hort makes a surprised noise but can’t find it in himself to draw Tedros into a more modest position. A pleasant combination of mint and vanilla permeates his nose, like he’s been shoved face-first into a cake.
All his previous worries become more muted, like they’ve been covered by a nice-smelling blanket.
His eyes accidentally meet Sophie’s over Tedros’ shoulder. Emerald eyes flash in the shadows and he sees the glint of white teeth, bared in a menacing imitation of a smile. Hort shudders.
Through the course of the night Hort is surprised to find them having a remarkably good time but he thinks it’s less the party and more Tedros’ presence by his side.
They’re falling back into Hort and Ravan’s room after they leave the party, laughing against each other as Hort struggles to unlock the door. Before he can, Ravan yanks it open from the inside and Tedros and Hort almost fall forwards, the sudden absence of a solid surface in front of them putting them off balance.
Tedros manages to catch himself and tugs Hort up as well, the gesture looking comical because of Hort’s height advantage over Tedros.
“It’s you two,” Ravan says, distastefully, looking down his nose at them. “That’s my cue to leave.”
Tedros slaps Ravan on the ass as he walks past and Hort’s life flashes before his eyes. Ravan jumps at least two feet in the air.
Hort’s jaw falls open in shock, his eyes wide as dinner plates.
Ravan turns around slowly, the look in his eyes almost manic as he observes Tedros.
The blond is smiling, eyes crinkling like an actual ray of sunshine as he throws up a peace sign.
The bronze-skinned Never’s expression changes in a split-second.
“Evers.” Ravan says, rolling his eyes.
But Hort still catches the disbelieved smile tugging at the corner of Ravan’s mouth as the other Never turns around.
Tedros was endearing, but nobody liked to admit it.
Hort shuts the door and Tedros is already on him like someone starved for touch.
“You’re smothering me,” Hort says, pushing him away half-heartedly, but he kisses back when Tedros leans in again, clutching at Hort’s shirt like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
Hort runs his hand through Tedros’ hair, the silky strands sliding through his fingers like liquid gold.
The look on Tedros’ face makes Hort want to melt. He feels so sappy, it’s ridiculous.
He continues threading his fingers into Tedros’ hair. The other boy closes his eyes in contentment, forgetting momentarily about his previous quest to conquer Hort’s mouth, content with the soft treatment like a cat in the sun.
And Hort thinks in that moment that he might actually love him.
Love him.
He can’t really help himself. To him, love sounded like power and strength. Once you had someone to share it with, nobody would ever be able to hurt you.
But looking at Tedros, he doesn’t feel strong at all. He feels like the weakest he’s ever been.
The prince smiles softly, tugging on Hort’s collar to pull him closer. Their lips meet and it still feels like the first time, lightning shooting down his spine as Tedros’ fingers twist in the hair at the nape of Hort’s neck.
Hort grabs him and rolls them to the side so that he’s looming menacingly above Tedros, sharp teeth bared.
Tedros grins up at him, licking his lips, never scared.
“I hate you,” Hort teases playfully.
There’s a quick flash of something across Tedros’ face, his features darken and dim for a split-second, eyes scared before he’s back and smiling, tugging Hort down to himself.
Hort thinks it’s a kiss at first but he’s falling onto Tedros with an oomph, the blond holding him tight, arms hooked under Hort’s shoulders, hands on muscular shoulder blades.
Hort had been working out.
“I’m crushing you,” he manages to gasp out, trying to push himself onto his forearms.
Tedros growls and clings harder.
“You’re so needy,” Hort laughs.
There it is again. Tedros looks devastated for a split-second before the panicked look is wiped away with a smile.
Hort decides to ask him later.
“So. Ready for the Circus?” Hort decides to ask as he finally manages to push himself off Tedros and onto his back.
Tedros rolls onto his stomach, elbows propping him up. “Of course,” he smirks, eyes crinkling at the edges, “Why would the top Ever show up without a talent?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Hort pretends to ponder, folding his arms beneath his head, “I’m not really sure what you could do that’s worthy of the Circus.”
Tedros’ mouth falls open in mock outrage, “Wow. Finally seeing your true colors.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” Tedros replies, nose turning up as if to snub Hort, “Winners don’t dally with losers.”
“Oh, Tedros. You’ve been doing more than dallying,” Hort sings, wiggling his eyebrows.
Tedros flushes a stark shade of tomato in an instant, sticking out his tongue at Hort to save face.
Hort laughs in surprise, “And here I thought you were just another goodie-two-shoes Ever.” He nudges Tedros in the side with his hip. “When in reality you’re just as bad as me.”
“Just as bad as you?” Tedros shakes his finger in Hort’s face, “That’s coming up too short.” He smirks again. “After all, I’m far worse.”
The grin simply refuses to leave Hort’s face when he replies, “Playing at being a Never, are we?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
“You think you have what it takes?”
Tedros scoffs, “Like it’s hard?”
———
One year, 8 months ago, Camelot
The sky is dark from the approaching thunderclouds, the bare branches of skeletal trees wave in the wind, the ground is still wet from previous rains. There are only three people in Camelot’s garden, two boys and a girl. Once friends, perhaps more. But soon nothing.
Tedros pulls away from Bettina and takes a hesitant step towards the other boy. The boy, Nex, automatically takes a step back and Bettina can practically hear Tedros’ heart breaking.
“I asked my father to send my letters, he said I couldn’t!” Tedros is nearly sobbing, “Please Nex!” he begs desperately, “I can’t do this,” Tedros is on his knees now, looking up at his best friend, not seeming to care about the fact that he has an audience. “Don’t leave me,” he pleads again. “I need you, I need—“
Nex yanks Tedros roughly to his feet by his shirt and stares into the prince’s eyes with such hate Betti is utterly disturbed. “I will never forgive you, you hear me? I hate you.”
Nex brings back his fist and punches Tedros in the jaw so hard that Bettina can see the prince fighting to stay conscious. Nex then punches him again and again in the stomach and ribs with ferocious intensity.
The dark-haired boy then releases his grip on Tedros’ shirt and shoves him away. Tedros collapses onto his stomach in the wet mud, his forearms barely holding up his upper body.
He tries to pull himself up but his arms slip on the wet ground and his shoulders shake when he tries again. Betti rushes towards him, falling to her knees next to his side.
Nex snarls, “He doesn’t deserve your pity.”
Betti whirls around and prepares to begin a rant on how she doesn’t care about Nex and his stupid feelings, how she knows Tedros and will not see him suffer, and how if Nex were a real friend he could let it go.
But Tedros manages to push himself up on his hands and knees, raising blue eyes to Nex’s dark figure.
“I love you.” Tedros whispers, the plea clear in his voice.
The prince has an arm wrapped around his bruised midsection but the other is still slipping through the mud towards Nex, fingers outstretched, as if he were reaching towards the last light before inevitable darkness.
Nex’s features remain cold and impassive, “Pathetic”, he says, eyes showing no trace of former emotion, “I didn’t.”
———
Tedros walks back to Good after saying goodbye to Hort, hands in his pockets and his head down. The crisp autumn chill rises into a brisk winter wind as he pushes through the entrance doors of Honor Tower.
He needs Hort so much it scares him.
When they’re together, it isn’t ever enough. When they’re apart, he’s waiting for the next time he’ll see him. This obsession is tearing Tedros into such tiny pieces that he can’t even hope to stick them back together again.
He’s completely sick with it and he doesn’t even know how it had gotten this far.
One second they’d been at best wary acquaintances, at worst bitter enemies, and the next Hort had seemed like the mountains to his blue skyline. Like he wasn’t complete if Hort wasn’t there next to him.
Tedros was fearing the moment that Hort ultimately decided to leave him. Leave him all alone like he had.
What was it with him and Nevers? They attracted him like nectar did butterflies, like the beach did the waves. He’s going to come plummeting down sooner or later and Tedros already feels fragile with the thought of it.
He had to do it first.
There’s a panicked voice in the back of his head that’s telling him to stop, to think this through, to reconsider. But Tedros has listened to that voice too many times, crashing and burning with it again and again.
He’s halfway down the marble hallway when he turns around and walks determinedly back out of Honor tower, out of Good, back towards Evil castle, towards that corridor, towards his room.
After Tedros pushes open the door (he knows it’s unlocked), he stops suddenly and watches Hort from the hallway, eyes intent on his form. He imprints the Never into his mind as best as he can, the way he moves, the shadow he casts, the way his dark hair looks in the dusk light.
He memorizes all of it, just as a lover would do at their sweetheart’s deathbed.
Tedros finally steps inside and shuts the door behind himself.
Hort seems to notice Tedros’ hesitance, or he may even notice the underlying grief. The grief Tedros has not let himself feel yet.
Hort gets up from his spot on the bed and moves towards Tedros in a confused half-step, but stills when Tedros backs away, almost colliding with the closed door behind him.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay,” Hort says, taking a step back, confused half-smile still on his face, “What is it?”
Tedros’ tone has a hard edge to it, but it sounds forced, voice cracking on the last syllable, “I think we should stop.”
The last remnants of Hort’s smile fades, “Stop?”
Tedros doesn’t meet Hort’s eyes, “We should stop doing this,” his hand gestures shakily between them, “This thing between us needs to end.”
“W-what?” Hort asks, stunned. His legs feel weak and his eyes feel hot.
It’s not true. This isn’t real.
Hort’s heart is pounding and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. The solid ground beneath him and Tedros feels like it’s cracking, the chasm between them grows with every passing second. He can’t lift his eyes from the floor, cracked wooden floorboards swimming in front of his eyes.
He wants to ask where this is coming from.
“It’s not healthy.”
It sounds like there’s a wobble in Tedros’ voice but Hort has to be imagining it. Tedros would only say these things if he hated Hort, a wobble would mean he cared.
Silence.
“I’m sorry,” are Tedros’ last words before he leaves, door shutting closed behind him with a soft click.
Hort drops to the floor. He wants to chase after Tedros and wrap his arms around the other boy’s legs, bury his face in the cotton of Tedros’ pants and beg him to reconsider, to stay.
Hort sits on the floor, shoulders hunched as he wipes at his eyes, hands coming away wet. He rubs the heel of his palm against his chest, willing his heart to stay where it is. It feels like the thing wants to tear out of his chest and drag itself after the prince.
This is so stupid.
But Hort feels like he’s drowning, breaths coming in short gasps as he feels his heartbeat creep up his throat. He presses his forehead to the floor and tries to take a slow, measured inhale but it feels like there’s no oxygen in the room, as if Tedros had taken it all with him. Taken along with the broken pieces of Hort’s heart, the door closing behind him like the last nail on a coffin.
Why the hell was he crying?
Everything was completely fine yesterday. He had been oblivious to all the things approaching. Thinking that he had finally gotten all he wanted.
Stupid.
Ignorance was bliss. Whoever came up with that little phrase was a fucking genius because Hort would do anything to erase the last ten minutes from his mind. Erase the knowledge that he’s gone. That Hort is alone again.
But it’s worse now because he knows what it’s like when he’s not.
When you have a warm, glowing sun of a person next to you and on you and around you. That little sun making dreary days sunny, cold nights into excuses to melt together.
Hort was so stupid.