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Call Out My Name

Summary:

Hort wasn’t looking for love his first year at the School for Evil. That little vocation was reserved for dimwitted princes and princesses at the School for Good, not Nevers at the School for Evil. But somehow it captures him in the form of a tan, blue-eyed prince.

Tedros knows his path: crown, princess, kingdom. He just needs to get through the school year and keep all the pieces of himself together in the meantime. Nobody was going to knock him off that path. Especially tall, dark-haired Neverboys.

Notes:

I’m thinking one chapter per week, but probably more often depending on how much schoolwork I have.
The characters are aged up to 17-19 years old, but this fic does follow first year at the School for Good and Evil canon roughly, but veers off in places because of the main ship Hort/Tedros.

Chapter 1: The First Time I Saw You

Chapter Text

Hort is sitting in his seat sulking and wondering why the hell the Everboys get a separate entrance when the doors slam open and one more walks in.

Hair a halo of celestial gold, eyes blue as a cloudless sky, skin the color of hot desert sand, he glistens with a noble sheen, as if his blood runs purer than the rest. The stranger takes one look at the frowning, sword-armed boys, pulls out his own sword, and grins.

Forty boys come at him at once, but he disarms each with lightning speed. The swords of his classmates pile up around his feet as he flicks them away without inflicting a scratch. The boy dismisses each new challenge as quickly as it comes. When the last boy is left swordless and dumbstruck, he sheathes his sword and shrugs, as if to say he means nothing by it all. But the boys of Good seem to know what it means.

The princes now had a king.

Hort can’t find a reason to boo. And he does try. The silence around him in the Never pews reflects his astonishment.

Hort then has to watch Evergirls push and shove to have the honor of catching the boy’s rose. The prince throws the flower high in the air and Hort sees the beautiful Nevergirl he’d met in the moat lunge for the falling rose, only to catch a wolf instead. An Evergirl with greasy black hair and sallow skin gapes back at the boy with his rose in her open palm.

Before the new prince can react he is pulled into a seat next to a blonde Evergirl. She has at least twenty roses on the seat next to her. Her arm is already slinked possessively around his neck and she’s practically sitting on him with a creamy leg thrown over his lap. Hort is still staring at him when a movement catches the corner of his eye, and suddenly the rose that the bug-eyed Evergirl caught is lying in his lap.

She must have thrown it away.

He looks at the rose for a long time, beginning to think that it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. The petals are a soft pink, with red bleeding around the edges, like ink on a silk shirt. He lifts the rose to his face and breathes in deep through his nose. The sweet, cloying smell of gentle summer fills his head and Hort feels like he could die now and be content.

But he suddenly feels a prickling on his neck and his eyes snap open.

Brown meets blue and Hort feels like withering into his seat. The golden boy stares at the rose pressed to Hort’s nose, then up into his eyes, then back at the rose.

Instead of finding shock or even unbridled disgust like he expected, Hort sees the prince’s cheeks flush a dark pink and sky-blue eyes quickly look away.

Hort is frozen for a second but quickly comes to his senses and shoves the rose deep into one of his pockets, wanting it out of his sight.

He can’t look at it. He can’t look at it because he’s angry. Angry that the stupid, arrogant prince had thought that short moment was anything more. The blush on those high cheekbones was a reflection of his shame and Hort hates it.

For the rest of the introduction lecture Hort can’t concentrate on anything the teachers are saying and he doesn’t even try. His eyes stay fixed on the floor and he refuses to lift his gaze, worried that he might catch those blue eyes again.

He accidentally hears that the boy’s name is Tedros when a coven of witches start whispering about it. They seem annoyed by Tedros’ mere existence and Hort has never sympathized with anything more. The prince already aggravated him to no end, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Hort can’t resist taking one more quick look at the prince when he’s sure that the blond will be occupied. He studies Tedros’ high cheekbones, silky blond hair, and soft, pink mouth. His muscular shoulders and strong arms fill out his blue shirt, tie loosened and collar undone. He looks so serene and assured, as if he knew destiny was on his side.

It makes Hort sick.

All he can see is an arrogant prince who always gets everything he wants. The pretty blonde girl he had first seen in Evil’s moat was also watching Tedros and his hate towards the prince grows exponentially.

Of course the only girl he liked among the Nevers would be obsessed with him too. The flame in his heart turns into a blaze as Hort scowls at Tedros. He wants to grab the pretty boy by his blonde curls and rip him to shreds.

Sadly, that’s impossible in his current state, because his manwolf form had decided to be difficult and had been laying dormant for the past year. And the worst part is Hort doesn’t even know why. Usually a manwolf will have trouble transforming if they don’t want it enough. But Hort wants it. So bad.

He’d even visited an elderly manwolf to try and figure out what the hell was wrong with him but the man turned out to be a crackpot because all he kept saying was that Hort needed to find “something he was passionate about” and “discover a strong motivator”.

Hort rolls his eyes again just thinking about it.

Suddenly the Nevers start rising around him and Hort realizes that Pollux and Castor have finally stopped yammering and they’re free to go. He trudges after the rest of the Nevers, not letting himself look back at the Evers or that stupid prince.

Hort has decided that Tedros was obviously an idiot because there’s no way someone could be that ridiculously good-looking and intelligent. Plus blondes were always dumb, everybody knew that.

The evil students are more or less silent as they exit the theater, low murmurs every now and then the extent of their speech, while the Evers on the other hand chat happily to each other like birds in spring.

A deeper voice adds remarks here and there to the tremendously fast and high-pitched monologues of assorted princesses. Hort turns around just once because no matter how much he tries to fight himself, curiosity gets the better of him.

Hort sees his suspicions confirmed.

Tedros walks in the midst of a flock of beautiful princesses, each vying for his attention, either with a hand on his arm or a pretty bat of eyelashes.

Hort wants to suffocate them with their own ribbons.

———

Tedros sees the dark-haired Neverboy from earlier turn back forwards and feels a pang of disappointment. He dismisses it as a result of his slightly narcissistic tendencies and focuses his attention back to the Evergirls surrounding him.

They talk back and forth about various topics like which class they’re most excited for and what kind of beauty treatments they want to try out in the Groom Room. Beatrix asks him about his workouts and even though Tedros knows what he’s saying must be utterly boring for them, all the girls swoon and sigh when he describes his method for getting the most out of a swim or weight lifting circuit.

He can’t seem to really concentrate on what they’re saying because all he can think about is the other boy. And how he had pressed Tedros’ rose to his face and inhaled like it was the last breath he would ever take.

Noone had ever treated anything of Tedros’ with that sort of reverence, especially when they thought nobody was looking.

Girls were always around him, hanging on his arm or perched on his lap. But he knew they were just there for his looks and his crown. Don’t get him wrong, Tedros wasn’t really complaining. Of course they always had a good time in the end, but he always thought that when love happened for real…it would feel different.

When Tedros had locked eyes with the dark-haired boy, he’d felt his face flush in response. He tells himself it was involuntary second-hand embarrassment but that doesn’t explain why he can’t get the moment out of his head.

Beatrix distracts him with a dainty arm looped around his bicep as she leans into his side, blinking big topaz eyes and smiling coquettishly. He can’t help but smile back, feeling captured by her boldness.

Beatrix also reminds him of a Never from earlier that frankly, hadn’t looked like a Never at all, one who he had felt an instant, unquestionable attraction to. She had had striking green eyes and shiny blonde hair, her peachy skin and dazzling features making her stand out among the other Nevers like a rose among thorns.

And the way she looked at him had been… predatory.

And that felt different.

Tedros had always been the “hunter” when it came to dating. He was the pursuer, the one to seek out the pretty girl, flirt and charm his way into her heart, then finally enjoy the elation of having her in his arms.

But being pursued like that was something else. Feeling like the prey had sparked something unidentifiable in his stomach.

He has no more time to think about it as they are all pushed towards Good castle by the rest of the crowd.

The turrets of Good come into view, blue and pink glass shining in the afternoon sunlight. Even though Tedros had seen pictures of the castle in paintings, they didn’t do the school justice.

It was mesmerizing.

Tedros knew his time at school was going to impact the rest of his life. He also knew his responsibilities: Graduate top of the class with a beautiful princess on his arm. Not repeat the mistakes of his father. Keep all villains at arms-length.

He’d been corrupted once, it couldn’t happen again. Tedros knew that was the way it should be and he knew that was what had to happen.

It couldn’t go any other way.

But Tedros feels an insistent heat in his chest and he thinks again.

The Neverboy from before; what the hell had that been? The tightness in his chest and the red on his cheeks was similar to the feelings he got when he would see beautiful princesses. Beautiful princesses with flouncing dresses in an assortment of pastel colors. Brilliant smiles and glowing skin. Long hair and sparkling eyes.

Ha. The guy hadn’t looked even a little bit like a princess, or a prince for that matter.

Far from it.

Inky black hair hung over dark eyes that seemed to burn with hate as they’d stared at each other. His grimy uniform was obviously too big for him and his skin seemed like it hadn’t seen the sun in years.

The classic Never, one that Tedros had to avoid. Because he couldn’t have a repeat of last time, it would be the death of him.

Chapter 2: I Hate You

Summary:

The first meeting of the forest group. Tensions rise and strong feelings, be they negative or positive, grow even more pronounced.

Notes:

- I wrote Hort to be a little less weasel-like and more sullen and brooding. His “glow-up” so to speak, happens earlier but slower to make it more realistic.
- And Tedros is just more soft. He’s still super emotional though. (As per usual.)

Chapter Text

After a day of tiring classes Hort just wants it to be over. He’d finally be able to go back to his room and escape the suffocating presence of jerk-faced Nevers and pompous Evers.

He trudges towards the outskirts of the blue forest with the rest of the Nevers in his forest group, not surprised to see that they’re the first ones there. Evers had a weird obsession with either being “fashionably late” or making a “glamorous entrance” whenever they were invited anywhere. Hort chalked it up to too many parties and stuffy ceremonies.

As if summoned, a small group of Evergirls in pretty pink dresses flutter their way towards the blue forest, all the while keeping a healthy distance between them and the Nevers. There’s a smattering of Everboys in their midst, blue suits shining in the afternoon sunlight. Hort sees the pale girl from the Theater on the edges, looking far too uncomfortable in her uniform, black hair falling across her face like a curtain.

Hort then peers back at the blonde Nevergirl, “Sophie” as Hort had found out during their previous classes. She hurries towards the dark-haired princess and Hort watches them engage in a whispered argument, their rapid-fire conversation too quiet for him to make out. Sophie repeats “Agatha” over and over again, so Hort assumes it must be the pale girl’s name.

A high-pitched giggle distracts him and Hort turns his head to see Tedros and the girl with twenty roses from the Theater approach. Hort hears Agatha hiss out “Beatrix” under her breath, with the utmost contempt in her voice.

The blond prince seems to have completely lost whatever humble demeanour Hort had seen yesterday and is walking leisurely towards the rest of the forest group with Beatrix under his arm. They looked like the perfect couple.

If that couple was perfectly annoying.

Soon a dwarf arrives, states his name in a gruff voice and proceeds to explain the conceptual difference between Evers and Nevers. As if they didn’t know that already.

“Yuba” then decides to implement the dumbest exercise for them to practice the rules with.

Telling Ever and Nevers apart. It’s like the dwarf was mocking them.

Hort quickly finds out that it’s harder than it looks. Yuba chooses three students, blindfolds one, turns two into identical creatures and expects the first one to be able to tell the difference after he’s taken the blindfold off. The Nevers disguised are supposed to try and pass as Evers.

At first it seems easy, but Hort watches student after student fail to tell the two apart.

Yuba stabs a finger at Sophie and beckons her forward. She sweeps to the front in her black robes, black robes that look so good on her despite their tattered appearance. Sophie is the picture of beauty and Hort already feels entranced.

“Tedros, Hort! Get over here.”

Hort is wrenched from his musings when he sees Tedros step forward, Hort reluctantly follows, not particularly fond of the prince or being anywhere near him.

They come up face to face and Hort is delighted to see that Tedros is actually a couple inches shorter than him. As he looks down into crystal blue eyes, instead of it making Tedros look less formidable, the realization of their height difference ignites something in Hort’s chest.

The Never can tell that Tedros is slightly miffed about how Hort’s staring down at him but suddenly something changes in his expression, embarrassment maybe? And Tedros abruptly backs away, letting golden curls fall across his face as he looks at the ground in a strange moment of submissiveness.

The heat burning under Hort’s skin only seems to grow at the gesture and he’s taking steps forward before he even realizes it.

But suddenly there’s a flash of light and after the haze of disorientation fades, there’s a blink of confusion Hort soon realizes that they’ve been transformed into identical wolves.

He feels right at home in the animal’s body because of its similarities to his manwolf form. The silky black fur is thick and long and he paws at the dirt in anticipation. Hort knows he’s not going to get to fight Tedros but it always helped to intimidate the opponent, especially when said opponent is a prissy Everboy.

He eyes Tedros and sneers, what a joke. He’s met with a piercing gaze already glowing with determination.

This was going to be a piece of cake. All he has to do is trick Sophie into thinking he’s an Ever by copying whatever Tedros does. Riling him up while he does that is a bonus.

Sophie still has the blindfold on and Tedros sits down on his haunches, the epitome of elegance with a puffed out chest and swishing black tail. Hort stalks forward to sit down next to him and copies Tedros’ posture as well as he can, if he exaggerates it’s because the possibility of mocking the prince is irresistible.

Yuba takes Sophie’s blindfold off and Tedros looks at him out of the corner of his eye, pointed wolf ears pulling back in a subconscious sign of anger. Tedros gets back up, fur standing on end.

Knowing that only the prince can understand his words, Hort pulls himself up too and smirks, “You’re used to being on all fours, huh?”

Tedros is shocked frozen for a second before baring his teeth and growling at him.

Hort lips stretch wide in a wolves imitation of a grin. And he must have underestimated Tedros’ susceptibility to anger because before he knows it Tedros is leaping at him, snarling and trying to get Hort’s neck between his teeth.

Hort snaps at him wildly and after a short tussle shoves Tedros off, all previous civility thrown out the window as he lunges for Tedros, seething and growling.

They scuffle and snarl at each other, rolling around on the ground, getting muddier and muddier the longer they struggle. Hort is surprised Yuba doesn’t intervene because the longer they fight the more savage it gets.

Tedros is biting and clawing at anything in his reach and Hort is giving in kind while barely holding Tedros at bay. The prince is acting like a wild animal and Hort would have been impressed by his viciousness if it had been more calculated. But Tedros is just lashing out, no real plan in his movements and Hort soon has the upper hand. He’s on top of the prince, jaw closing in and assuring his victory.

———

Sharp teeth dig into the soft fur of his neck and Tedros fights the panic rising in his chest, barely holding back a whine. He struggles under Hort’s merciless hold but before he can try bucking him off, they’re no longer wolves and Tedros is back in his own skin, panting under Hort, trying to catch his breath.

The Neverboy still has his face pressed into the all too vulnerable junction between Tedros’ shoulder and neck, hot puffs of air making Tedros’ hair stand up on end.

Teeth scrape against his skin and Tedros soon realizes how close they actually are. He knows he should definitely move soon but all he really wants to do is lay there and catch his breath, heartbeat racing.

Hort seems to follow the same thought process because he pauses for a moment, dropping his head with a harsh exhale, black hair tickling Tedros’ cheek for a second before pushing himself up and off, chest heaving under his black uniform, streaks of mud along his arms and legs.

Tedros knows he looks just as bad, if not worse. He wipes at a smear of dirt on his jaw, cursing Yuba for making them do this useless exercise.

The dwarf fixes them both with a disapproving stare, “That vulgar display was one of the most incompetent exhibitions of the rules that I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing.”

Tedros huffs and kicks at the grass with the tip of his boot, face flushing dark pink despite himself. Hort looks down and folds his arms across his chest, puffing at the bangs that have fallen in his face.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, acting like a couple of wild animals!” Yuba angrily continues, “Rendering the exercise useless with your idiocy!”

Tedros’ face is now burning with embarrassment. This was the worst possible start to his first year at the School for Good.

The prince sees that Hort’s ears have turned bright red and the Neverboy doesn’t lift his gaze from the ground, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace.

Yuba goes quiet for a moment before barking out, “You two are on dish duty after lunch for the next three weeks!” Hort’s head snaps up in horror at the dwarf’s words. “Hopefully you and Tedros will learn your lesson.” Tedros is speechless, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “Hort, you’ll be in charge of the Never’s pails and Tedros, you’ll clean the Ever’s baskets.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hort finally exclaims. “The Never pails are disgusting! And the Ever baskets barely get dirty!” He points a finger accusingly at Tedros, “Prince Prettyface won’t have to work at all!”

Tedros opens his mouth to retort but Yuba cuts him off, “Make your peace with it. The class is over.”

Hort’s face flushes with rage and if looks could kill...Tedros would be six feet underground.

Students start leaving and Sophie and Beatrix both rush towards him at the same time, with what Tedros thinks is just mock concern.

“Oh my god, Teddy are you okay?” Beatrix pulls a small handkerchief from her bag and wipes at Tedros’ hands, blinking up at him, all the while biting her lip. Tedros fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Sophie stands next to Beatrix, glaring at the princess like she was something to be wiped off the bottom of a shoe. As if she can sense Tedros observing her, Sophie turns back to him, emerald eyes glinting playfully.

Beatrix shoots a venomous look back at Sophie, “We don’t need your help.”

Sophie hums, “I’m not here to help.”

Tedros raises his eyebrows at her boldness and the inherent suggestion in her tone. Beatrix looks scandalized as she watches Sophie touch her fingertips to Tedros’ cheekbone.

“Tedros darling, take a walk with me.”

Sophie’s looking up at him through her lashes and Tedros is struck again by how forward she is, going after what she wants like a lioness on the hunt. He accidentally meets Hort’s gaze over Sophie’s shoulder, and he’s never seen someone scowl at him with so much hatred. And next to him stands Agatha, with the same unbridled loathing in her expression.

Tedros hesitates before coming to a decision. He feels a little better when he finally lets Sophie loop an arm around his and lead him away from the others. He knows that leaving is bringing him quite a few enemies, but after that train-wreck of a class, he just wants to get away.

Sophie snuggles closer into his side and he manages to smile down at her, still embarrassed by his failure in the exercise.

She seems to sense his negativity and shakes her head, “That old dwarf was too harsh on you, a scuffle between boys is completely normal.” Her blonde hair swishes around her shoulders, soft lavender smell hitting Tedros’ nose like a pleasant breeze, “Especially when it’s about a girl.” She giggles into her other hand.

Tedros looks at her in surprise and then furrows his brows, thinking back on why he had jumped at Hort in the first place.

His self-control felt like it had slipped away and before he’d known what he was doing, he had been on top of the Neverboy, lost in his anger.

But had it been because of Sophie?

Uncertainty grips Tedros and he’s no longer sure why he’d reacted that way at all. The two Nevers had both stuck out during the assembly in the Theater of Tales. And Tedros wasn’t very good at judging his feelings or acting appropriately.

He knew that, it was another one of his many failures.

Insecurity festers in his heart like an open wound. Flirting, sports, fencing, battle strategy? He had that in the bag. But anything that really mattered? He was hopeless.

And he can’t help his lingering animosity towards Nevers. They couldn’t be trusted. If you gave them any sort of power over you, they would abuse it and tear you apart with their cruel indifference.

Which is why he’s wary of the blonde currently pressed into his side.

He tries to let it go, but even as they walk towards their separate gates, he fears that there’s something wrong with whatever is blooming between them. Like a poisonous flower, beautiful yet deadly.

Tedros can’t deny that she’s beautiful, with her bewitching green eyes and pretty, rose petal lips. But suddenly Hort pops up in his head and he almost stops in his tracks. Completely shocked at himself.

Hort definitely wasn’t someone he thought of in that light.

Right?

Chapter 3: Got You On My Mind

Summary:

Self reflection is a dangerous thing.

Notes:

Don’t smoke kids! The Nevers in this fic might be doing it, but it’s an unhealthy habit!
*this has been a public service announcement from the World Health Organization*

Chapter Text

The rest of the day passes in a blur, not much to do after Forest Group except study. Hort finally makes it back to the room he shares with Ravan and flops down onto his bed like a moody teenager.

Hort officially can’t be called a teenager anymore since he’d turned 18 last summer, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling either angry or horny about most everything going on in his life.

He should have known Forest Group was going to be a disaster. Anytime Evers and Nevers were told to socialize, it always got messy. His father said that Evers were pompous bastards who had permanent poles stuck up their asses. And as today proved, his father was absolutely right.

However, from what he’d seen… Tedros was a little different. Pompous, sure. And disgustingly kind to everybody around him. But the way he’d jumped headfirst into a fight with Hort hadn’t been Ever-like at all. He had let his emotions drive him, exercising none of the self-control that Evers were known for.

Hort had almost been impressed with Tedros’ savagery. But he had decisively won anyway, his experience prevailing over the prince’s feral viciousness. It had been the most thrill Hort had felt in a while.

He sits up on his bed, putting his head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees, suddenly on edge.

Why was he thinking about this so much?

He lets out a sigh. Something about the blond just grated him the wrong way.

The prince was just annoying, galavanting about with his perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect everything. Acting like he was God’s gift to mankind. It didn’t help that every girl seemed to think so too.

Except Agatha.

Maybe he should go talk to her, rant about Tedros to the one person who seems to think the same. He would have talked to Hester or Anadil but Hester hated boys with a passion and Anadil didn’t seem to care much about anything except her rats.

Heat rises in his face as he thinks about the prince. Hort remembers how Tedros had walked off with Sophie without a glance back and combs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Hot girl?”

Ravan’s voice shakes him out of his reverie and he nearly falls off the bed, “What the fuck man?”

The other boy snickers, “Everybody already knows you’re a pitiful excuse for a Never, always chasing after girls who don’t want you. So I thought I’d ask.”

Hort glowers at Ravan, “Of course not, just an irritating Ever who’s been getting on my nerves.”

“Hmm,” Ravan purses his lips in contemplation, “Looked more like your pining face. But then again, I don’t really care.” He flops down onto his own bed and starts digging through his bedside drawer, quickly finding what he wants with a grin.

Hort scowls at both what Ravan said and what he has pulled from his nightstand, laying back on his bed, arms folded under his head. An earthy smell begins to permeate the room and Hort looks over at Ravan, who’s holding a blunt between two fingers, leisurely blowing rings into the air above him.

“Really?” Hort rolls his eyes, “Where the hell did you get that?”

Ravan sniggers, “Hell.”

Hort stares at him, unimpressed.

“Nah, I got it from the witches in room 666.”

Hort raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Hester and Anadil?”

Ravan takes a big inhale and speaks around the smoke he blows out, “They wouldn’t even talk to me, I convinced Dot.” He keeps taking hits even as he talks, “They might set up a party later this week ‘cause they have more weed than a medium-sized drug cartel.” He sniggers again, “Where they stash it I’ll never know.”

As Ravan becomes loose and leagues more relaxed from the weed, Hort grows more and more convinced of the fact that the witches of room 666 are only hosting a party to discover the weaknesses of the Nevers around them, the drug eliminating inhibitions and breaking down the thick walls that Evil students set up around themselves.

It was smart, and exactly what he expected from someone like Hester.

Hort wonders how many Nevers were actually lightweights and then ponders if he should go or not. He hadn’t been invited, but then again no one had. That’s just how it worked. Someone would offhand mention a party and the news would spread, people showing up if they had nothing better to do.

Very different from how Evers organized their parties.

Fancy invitations slipped under doors, formal requests of presence, a strict itinerary and occasionally requests for costume or specifically themed clothing.

How stuffy.

The one upside to their gatherings from what Hort had heard, was that when Evers let loose, they really let loose. Dancing through the night like a bunch of drunk fairies, never tiring and keeping the mood going till morning, kissing whoever they wanted.

Hort couldn’t lie, it did sound nice.

Especially the kissing.

Hort should have been ashamed of his libido, but he much prefered to call it a partiality to love. Kissing someone sounded so world-changing, and the fact that he hadn’t yet gotten the chance to bothered him to no end.

Tedros has probably kissed lots of girls.

Hort stares up at the moldy ceiling above him, wondering exactly how many girls the prince has actually kissed.

———

———

———

Tedros lies on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow in his arms.

He lets out a muffled scream that has Chaddick looking up from his homework in alarm.

“You good?”

Tedros lets out a dramatic groan into his pillow and shakes his head. He might have been overdoing it but Tedros couldn’t help but feel like a perfect failure after the day he’s had.

His roommate quickly catches on, “I heard what happened in your Forest Group.”

Tedros wants to suffocate himself with his pillow.

“It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it was just one little ranking.” Tedros hears Chaddick get up from his desk and feels the dip of the bed as the other boy sits down next to him.

Tedros is still wallowing in self-pity when Chaddick pets his head, gently stroking the golden curls.

Tedros promptly sits up at that, pushing Chaddick’s hand off. “I’m not a fucking cat.”

Chaddick just grins at him and Tedros rolls his eyes but soon can’t help the begrudging smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Mission accomplished. One over-emotional prince back to normal.”

Tedros gives him the middle finger and Chaddick gasps in mock horror, bringing his hand to his chest like a scandalized Victorian lady.

“You’re such an asshole.” Tedros mutters.

“But you love me.”

Tedros sticks out his chin, turning away like a three year old, “I do not.”

The burly Ever hums to himself, “Fine. I guess I won’t tell you about the new climbing wall I found.” He studies his nails with pursed lips, all the while watching Tedros from the corner of his eye.

The blond prince folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes, “Ok... So maybe I do like you, a little.” He pulls at Chaddick’s sleeve like a child, “Now tell me about the wall.”

Chaddick laughs at how ridiculously easy it is to manipulate the other boy before quickly explaining that if someone crossed the menagerie of statues there was a section of wall with quite a few bricks missing, enough bricks to practice climbing on.

Tedros nods along and launches into his own story of a section of grass, bushes and rocks behind Valor tower that could serve as an obstacle course. Chaddick observes him with a fond expression, the other prince going into detail about the heights and distances between various obstacles, waving his arms around to illustrate his points.

Chaddick knew a lot of people thought Tedros didn’t have to work for his position or status, that everything had been given to him on a silver platter. And that was true, partially, being the heir to the Camelot throne did have its perks.

But many hadn’t been there as Chaddick watched Tedros sweat and bleed through a grueling long distance run through the woods near Camelot, the heat getting so bad that Chaddick had to stop and ride on his horse instead, passing Tedros a new water flask whenever he needed it.

He’d seen Tedros seemingly turn his pain off during that particularly brutal run. Because afterwards when he’d pulled off his shoes, Chaddick saw that his white socks had been soaked through with red.

Chaddick liked strength and precision exercises more, like weightlifting and archery. Tedros lifted weights as well, but showed favoritism towards endurance sports, pushing himself to his limits and then past them.

“Do you think my mistake during the first Forest Group will affect the rest of my scores?” Tedros shows real concern and looks at Chaddick, now more like a kicked puppy than a kitten.

“Of course not,” Chaddick soothes, “Just don’t get into anymore fights.”

Tedros huffs, “That might be hard. Hort is a real dick.”

“Who?”

The other prince tilts his head to the side in disbelief, “Really tall guy, pale, dark hair?”

“Everybody’s really tall to you.” Chaddick teases, ruffling Tedros’ hair and pulling him sideways into a hug.

Tedros pouts at his comment, “He keeps bothering me.”

“From what I heard, you jumped at him first.”

“He was copying me!” Tedros snaps.

Chaddick raises his eyebrows, “Wasn’t that the whole point of the exercise?”

Chaddick then observes Tedros go through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds.

“I did not start it!” Denial.

“But he was being a complete and utter ass!” Anger.

“Ok, but the bastard would have done something worse later if I hadn’t.” Bargaining.

“I’m the worst Ever in school!” Depression.

“God, it was totally my fault.” Acceptance.

Tedros rests his forehead on Chaddick’s shoulder in distress, “I hate myself.”

Chaddick sighs, “Don’t be dramatic. Ignore him from now on.”

Tedros stays there with his forehead resting against Chaddick’s shoulder, his breathing slowing and becoming steadier. Chaddick waits for the prince’s response but after a while realizes that Tedros has fallen asleep...sitting up.

“Dumbass,” he murmurs, “Being a drama queen must really take it out of you, huh?”

He carefully moves out of the way and lays Tedros down on the bed, half covering him with a blanket, knowing that he’ll probably shrug it off during the night.

Chapter 4: Acquainted

Summary:

Classes, lunch, and dish duty with your enemy.

Notes:

I actually named this fic after the “Call Out My Name” cover by Seraphim if you want to check it out and catch the vibes. :P

Not a lot of angst so far but it’s definitely coming.

Chapter Text

It’s lunchtime, (oh joy) and Hort begrudgingly accepts the pail of roughly cut mystery ribs and already cold bacon. He grimaces at the contents. He hadn’t been able to eat meat since his father made him kill his pet pig when he was ten. The experience had completely put him off almost all animal products.

He’d woken up that morning already exhausted and not ready for lessons of any kind. Curses and Death Traps with Lesso had been morbidly cold as usual, and Uglification with Professor Manley had been the same disgusting mess of smelly pastes and slimey potions, all with the purpose of making them uglier than they already are.

Hort had watched Sophie fight the process once again, shielding her peachy skin from the reeking face mask that Manley had attempted to smother her with, in a futile effort to raise any sort of blemish on her face.

Raucous laughter interrupts his thoughts and he glances over at the Everboy’s a few tables over. Tedros has a grin on his face as he traps Chaddick in a playful headlock, the other burly Everboy laughing under his arm.

The teachers had mercifully allowed them picnic tables to eat at since the weather had been oppresively rainy the past couple days, turning the ground to muck and slick weeds.

But that didn’t stop the Evers from being their usual happy, ditzy selves.

All of the Everboys were already on their third portion of perfectly cooked steak and Hort isn’t the least bit surprised. The protein was probably necessary with all the exercise they did.

Tedros’ hair is still damp from the shower he surely took after chivalry, some of the shorter golden strands still wet and clinging to his neck. His white shirt is unlaced, revealing smooth, golden skin over tight muscles. The prince releases his friend with a laugh and resumes eating, Chaddick lightly punching Tedros in the shoulder before doing the same.

Hort looks down at himself, his body all sharp angles and hard lines under pale skin.

Of course Sophie wasn’t interested. Why would she want him when she could have a blond, blue-eyed Adonis lookalike. An Adonis who also possessed a disgusting amount of charm, Evergirls practically throwing themselves at him

Maybe if Hort put on some muscle.

He looks back into his bucket of vomit-inducing meat and cringes inwardly. But with steely resolve he picks up the bacon and swallows it in one go. He’s proud of himself when he doesn’t immediately throw it back up. Chewing as fast as he can, he practically inhales the rest of his pail in a rush to get it down.

Hort sits back, feeling a little green but managing to control his stomach with sheer willpower.

Now all he had to do was work out.

It sure didn’t seem that hard. Especially when Tedros did it. The prince always moved with practiced ease, switching through positions like it was second-nature, whether that was during a rugby game or another rope climbing tournament.

If that dingle weed could do it, so could Hort.

He resolves to practice after the school day is over, already deliberating over a spot when the lunch bell chimes and Nevers start getting up around him, throwing their buckets into the huge bin next to the outdoor sink for washing.

A mix of anger and dread creeps up his throat. He’d forgotten.

Dish duty for the next three weeks with him. Dear God, he couldn’t possibly survive being next to such an overwhelming amount of empty-headedness for that long.

He’s already standing over one of the washing basins when he hears the sound of multiple pairs of boots approaching, he glances up and sure enough, there’s Tedros with his gang of buddies, standing around him with their heads bowed like the members of some sort of somber farewell party.

Chaddick whispers something into the other prince’s ear and pats him on the shoulder before eyeing Hort curiously and walking off with the others, all of whom had either patted Tedros on the shoulder or given him a ridiculous “bro-hug” as goodbye.

Hort had to admit, sometimes he got a little jealous of the comradery all Evers seemed to possess, flocking together like exotic birds, goodwill obvious in the friendly smiles they shot each other. Casual touches and tight hugs were something Hort wouldn’t mind, if only he had someone to share them with.

He cringes inwardly. So pathetic.

Tedros trudges over, resignation clear on his face. “Let's get this over with,“ he grumbles, grabbing a basket and emptying the silverware onto the counter next to him.

The rest of the students leave for their respective halls, opting to spend their breaktime inside rather than suffer the chill of the current weather.

Why the teachers decided to build an outdoor wash counter Hort will never know. Their classmates are all gone after a few minutes and it’s only Tedros and Hort outside, faced with the task of cleaning the dishes while everybody else relaxes inside.

———

———

———

Hort glares down at the stubborn stain on one of the Never pails. The crust from whatever sludge they were given today doesn’t want to come off and Hort is about at his wits end because Tedros is on his fourth basket and sixth set of cutlery.

It seems like Evers don’t even use the forks and knives they’re given because the utensils barely look dirty, absolutely minimal traces of food on them.

Tedros catches his dirty glare and smirks, scrubbing the washcloth over a plate once, twice, three times, and then setting it aside to dry on the rack next to him. It’s spotless. He moves onto the next plate and his smirk stays glued to his face, blue eyes glinting as he looks up at Hort through his lashes.

Hort’s blood boils and he tightens his grip on the wet sponge in his hand, Tedros’ face looking like the perfect target.

The second the blond looks back down to pick up a new basket, Hort hurls the soaking-wet sponge and watches it hit Tedros right in the middle of his face. He lets out a loud snigger as the sponge slides down a shocked Tedros’ nose and mouth.

Funnily enough, Hort sees the exact same phenomenon play out like that first day in their forest group. Tedros stands there, completely appalled at Hort’s behaviour, before losing his cool in a matter of seconds, grabbing the water bucket on his side of the outdoor sink and flinging it’s contents at Hort.

The Neverboy only manages to dodge half the splash and his right side gets completely soaked as a result, black uniform now starting to cling to him like a second skin.

Hort is proud of himself for reacting quickly when he swiftly retaliates and successfully douses Tedros with a full bucket of soapy water while the prince is still in the throes of his previous victory.

Completely drenched now, Tedros looks like an angry cat, hissing both at the water and Hort, completely wet and furious about it.

No scratch that.

The other boy looks like an angry kitten, golden curls plastered to his head except for the couple that decide to stick up anyway, creating the appearance of little cat ears.

Hort would have found it adorable, had he not hated the guy.

Tedros is practically vibrating with barely contained rage before he lunges at Hort the exact same way he had when they’d been transformed into wolves. Except this time Hort fears he might not win.

Everybody knew that the Everboys did an abundance of sports, including wrestling. And Tedros was (of course) the best, claiming victory over the other boys on a regular basis. The only person who regularly beat him was Chaddick, who Hort would say was the burliest Everboy, thick arms and legs corded through with muscle.

Hort’s only advantage is Tedros’ anger, which would hopefully make him act irrationally, thus aiding in Hort’s triumph.

That hope goes out the window once Hort realizes that Tedros is just as good at wrestling when he’s pissed. Hort lands on his back in the mud with a grunt, Tedros already sitting on top of him, tan chest heaving through undone shirt laces.

Hort slips the hold purely out of luck and rolls them so he’s on top, trying to pin Tedros’ hands above his head. But his wet skin makes the prince slippery and Tedros easily escapes Hort’s grip, rolling them so he’s back on top again, sitting himself on the Neverboy’s hips.

The pressure there would have been nice, Hort offhandedly thinks to himself, had it not been attached to such an insufferable human being.

But instead of gloating the prince freezes, slowly looking up at something or someone behind Hort.

The Neverboy tilts his head back as much as he can on the ground and is met with the upside down view of a pair of curly toed shoes attached to a rather angry dwarf.

Yuba looks sorely disappointed even upside down as he simply mutters, “You two again.”

Tedros scrambles to his feet, “Professor Yuba, it isn’t—“

Yuba raises a hand and Tedros snaps his mouth shut.

The dwarf already looks tired of them and sighs, “And filthy as well.”

Hort looks down at himself and indeed, once again he’s streaked almost all over with mud. He glances at Tedros and the prince only looks marginally better, less dirt and grime, instead just completely soaked through.

Yuba stares at them, taking in their disheveled appearances and pinching the bridge of his nose as he lets out another long sigh.

“You’re switching tasks. Hort is now responsible for the Ever’s baskets and Tedros, you’ll be in charge of cleaning the Never’s buckets.”

Tedros mouth drops open, “But he started it!”

The old dwarf assesses the two of them before replying, “You look cleaner, I have to assume you gave more than you got.”

Tedros eyes widen and he opens his mouth to retort but Yuba shuts him up again with a stern look and Tedros is resigned to balling his fists at his sides, nodding with a clenched jaw.

Hort tries to fight the grin creeping up on his face, but in the end he can’t help the left side of his mouth twitching up in amusement at the delightful turn of events, for once leaning in Hort’s favor.

Tedros catches the look and scowls.

But for some reason he looks less angry with Hort and more disappointed in himself, arms folded across his chest, now shivering in the cold, his wet clothes offering no protection against the cutting gusts of wind blowing through the clearing.

His white shirt is plastered to his body, almost translucent against his skin, the lines of his muscles clearly visible through the thin fabric.

Hort realizes he’s staring when Tedros shoots him a suspicious look. He’s weirdly embarrassed, but brushes it off when a cold wind hits him, goosebumps rising on his arms.

Yuba huffs and shoos them in the direction of the two tunnels of trees leading to their separate schools, “Get inside, I’ll finish the rest.”

The dwarf flicks his wrist and the buckets and baskets are sparkling clean in a matter of seconds, gleaming like they had never been dirty.

Tedros stares in affronted surprise.

I need to learn that spell, Hort thinks to himself. A cold wind suddenly blows through again, making him shiver, goosebumps rising on his arms, he rubs vigorously, trying to bring some warmth back, knowing that it shouldn’t take long with his metabolism. He startles when a bundle of cloth hits him in the chest. He automatically grabs at it and realizes immediately that it’s an Everboy coat.

He looks up at Tedros standing across from him, the other boy purposefully looking in the other direction, clearly flustered and not able to meet Hort’s eyes.

“Sorry for getting you wet,” he mumbles, “You can wear my jacket if you’re cold,” he rubs the back of his head, making his hair stand in every direction, “It’s still dry from when I put it away.”

Hort is stunned for a moment before flinging the offending garment back at the too well-meaning Ever, “I don’t need your fucking charity.”

“It’s not—“

Hort pulls out his Never jacket from where he had stuffed it under the counter, throwing it at Tedros as well, “You can wear my coat.”

The prince protests, “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine.” Hort growls.

“But—“

Hort glares, “Put it on before I do it myself.”

Tedros seems overwhelmed at the turn of events before pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the clear, smooth tan of his chest and lean stomach. He wrings out the wet garment as best as he can and throws it over his shoulder. The tapered line of his waist twists as he pushes an arm through one of the sleeves of his own coat.

Hort unwillingly flushes at the sight but shakes it off with an annoyed sigh, trust him to think his enemy is hot.

Tedros is shrugging on his own coat and then hesitantly pulls Hort’s jacket on top, with a last worried glance at the Never.

“Oh please,” Hort sneers, “Not everyone’s a weakling Ever.”

Tedros pulls the collar of Hort’s coat up, obscuring his mouth and nose and peering at Hort over the sharp edge of the black coat. Luminous blue eyes regard him in the dim light but it’s clear that he’s frowning from behind the thick black cloth.

Hort dismisses Tedros’ expression with a snicker because he’s just noticed that his coat is way too large on the prince.

Tedros’ hands are almost completely hidden in the length of the sleeves, fingertips barely peeking out the ends. The bottom of the coat that hits Hort a little below the waist is a good few inches down Tedros’ thighs, making Tedros look like an agitated penguin as the prince discovers why Hort’s mood has changed so quickly from bitter to gleeful.

“I have more muscles,” Tedros mutters under his breath.

Not for long.

Hort confines his mirth to himself, tucking his hand into the pocket of his pants that wasn’t wet. He decided that he was going to start working out and surpass Tedros in strength no matter what. It was going to happen. He feels giddy with the thoughts of that future.

There’s a shuffle of boots as Tedros starts walking towards Good, arms wrapped around himself. The golden-haired prince looks over his shoulder and their eyes meet again.

Hort offers him a two-fingered salute and bends into an over-exaggerated bow, pleased with the huff of annoyance Tedros makes, the prince turning back around and stomping towards Good with a new vigor.

Hort whistles to himself as he makes his way down the tunnel of trees to Evil castle, oddly satisfied with the events of the day so far.

He might even be able to snag a few minutes of break before classes begin again.

———

———

———

Tedros stomps into the Good common room, still preoccupied with thoughts of patronizing Nevers and his own stupid height when he realizes his mistake.

Silence greets him as he looks up to see that everybody’s staring at him in horror.

Oh yeah.

He was covered head to toe in mud. And wearing a Never’s coat.

“Dude.” Chaddick scoffs, looking him up and down in disbelief.

“Fuck off.”

“Oh boy, somebody’s got an attitude.” Chaddick quips.

Tedros ignores him in favor of making his way through the rest of the Evers, embarrassment burning a hole through his pride, practically fleeing into the hallway and in the direction of the showers.

Once he’s alone in the tiled bathroom, he throws off Hort’s jacket with a barely controlled scream.

So what if he was over-emotional. He deserved to freak out. Why had he even accepted the jacket?

Yes, it was warm and smelled nice but—

Hold it.

Smelled nice?

He pauses and then warily approaches the coat like he would a wild animal. He picks it up and takes a sniff.

Smoke and…

He buries his face in the fabric…fresh pine.

Tedros is willing to bet he looks like a real idiot standing there, pressing his nose into somebody else’s clothes like some weirdo. That thought alone has him jerking the garment away from himself.

He hangs up the coat this time, red in the face.

His shower is quick, not taking his time like he usually would. With only a few minutes to spare, he doesn’t want to be late to Good Deeds.

Not particularly worried about Professor Dovey since he’s charmed his way out of trouble before, but definitely not wanting to come late and face the stares of his classmates.

He ponders to himself all the way to Dovey’s classroom, wondering how he could get the upper hand with Hort. Too many questions were left unanswered.

Why did he care at all? What could Tedros do to embarrass Hort? Was that immature? Was revenge too Never? How could he find Hort’s weaknesses?

His thoughts are racing a mile a minute as he steps into the classroom.

Why did he care?

Tedros finds his way to his seat more on instinct than anything else. He only realizes that his eyes haven’t left the top of his desk when there’s a light tap on his shoulder.

Professor Dovey is holding out the assignment and Tedros quickly takes it, not meeting her eyes.

“Today we’re talking about selflessness.” Dovey announces, writing the word in cursive on the board, “The act of having more concern for the needs and wishes of others than your own.”

Beatrix immediately raises a well-manicured hand.

“Yes, Beatrix?”

“What kinds of actions are selfless, Professor?”

Professor Dovey smiles, “Good question Beatrix.”

“No it wasn’t.” Agatha mutters from next to him.

Dovey continues, “When you give to others without looking for personal gain.” She writes ‘personal gain’ on the board and draws a line through it, “For example, giving your coat to someone when they’re cold.”

Tedros stares hard at his teacher, now worried that she can read his mind, the example she gave suspiciously fitting.

He raises his hand. She nods at him and he speaks up right away, “But Professor, can’t there be malicious intent behind something like that?”

Dovey looks bewildered by his question.

Tedros barrels on, “I mean, what if they wanted to make you look stupid?”

Professor Dovey furrows her brow.

“Hypothetically, say a person tries to give another person his jacket, and then this other person says no and offers their jacket back to the first person instead.”

Now the whole class looks confused. Except Chaddick who is sniggering into his shoulder, turning his head in a poor attempt to hide his laughter.

Tedros huffs, “Nevermind.”

Dovey purses her lips and stays quiet for another moment before clapping her hands together in an attempt to bring the classes attention back to the front of the room. She launches into an explanation of the most famous instances of selflessness in past fairy tales and their implications for today’s stories.

Tedros sinks down into his seat, completely done with everything already. He moans in distress, and it wasn’t even three o’clock.

———

———

———

Hort goes to bed oddly pleased. Knowing that Tedros is going to have to give him his coat back in front of everyone else is like the cherry on an ice cream sundae. Not that he’s ever had one, but that’s how he imagines it must be. Sweet and satisfying.

The classes after lunch had been easy. History and Special Talents were no big deal. Thankfully they hadn’t had to show off their talents yet, only learning about the impressive ones of former students.

Sophie had protested throughout the whole afternoon, still insisting she was a princess and that the School Master had put her in the wrong school. He’d peeked over at her notes when he’d thought he’d missed something and only found the delicate curl of Tedros’ name on her page, over and over again.

He’d curled his hands into fists under his desk, a combination of anger and jealousy thrumming under his skin.

All Tedros had was his looks. And maybe he was kind sometimes...and charming.

But he’d gotten huffy and flustered after he’d accepted Hort’s jacket. Like it was embarrassing.

He hadn’t given it to the prince with this particular result in mind but Tedros’ adverse reaction had given him too many ideas.

He wasn’t a Never for no reason.

———

———

———

On the other side of Evil’s moat and Good’s lake Tedros lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to fall asleep.

He needed more information. And once he knew enough about Hort, he would strike.

He feels slightly guilty about the revenge fantasies running through his head but dismisses the feeling as unimportant. Opportunities came more often than people thought and all Tedros had to do was wait for the right one.

Chapter 5: How Many Secrets Can You Keep?

Summary:

Tedros is conflicted.
Hester makes a request.
Hort is unsure.
Sophie is not.

Notes:

The Evers listen to pop and dance music at their parties and the Nevers listen to hip hop/rap and r&b at their parties, I don’t make the rules.

Never Party Playlist:

Undo - RL Grime
No Guidance - Moon OA
Blame - Bryson Tiller
Starboy - The Weeknd
Don’t - Bryson Tiller
Highest in the Room - Travis Scott
Calm Down - G-Eazy
Hawk Em - Pop Smoke
Talk - Salvatore Ganacci
Na Na - Trey Songz
2 - H.E.R.
Heartless - The Weeknd
Cold Sweat - Tinashe

Chapter Text

It seems like embarrassment is his default setting lately as Tedros thinks back on the positively devious thoughts he’d had last night, contemplating all the ways he could get back at Hort.

The Good forgive.

After hitting himself in the face with a pillow back in his room a few times, Tedros does manage to more or less let go of his hostility and accept the situation as it is.

So what if Hort had let Tedros borrow his coat? That was a nice thing to do, no feelings necessary there other than gratitude.

No other feelings. Nope.

Tedros shakes his head at himself, golden fringe falling across his forehead. He leans back in his chair, blowing the hair out of his face and trying to focus on what Professor Sader is explaining at the front of the classroom.

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he twists around, coming face to face with Beatrix, her smile coy yet relaxed, “Teddy—“

He interrupts her, “Where’s Chaddick, he was sitting right—“ he stops and slowly raises his eyebrows, looking at Chaddick’s sheepish grin from behind Beatrix, the princess having apparently decided to plop herself down in the other boy’s lap so she could talk to Tedros.

“Hey man, enjoying today’s lesson?”

“Immensely.” Tedros deadpans.

Beatrix giggles, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m studying with Chaddick and Reena today,” her tone lowers and twists into something more sly and subtle, “Sorry for changing plans last minute baby, I can’t always hang out with you.”

Chaddick seems to be struck speechless but Tedros is only confused.

This is probably another one of those complicated games that girls play in their heads, their plots too complicated for Tedros to understand.

“Alright, no problem,” Tedros nods, “Let me know the next time you’re available,” he adds for good measure, hoping that’s what he was supposed to say.

Beatrix seems pleased so Tedros must have done something right, “Of course,” she simpers, rising from Chaddick’s lap and sitting back down into her own seat a few rows back.

The rest of their classes pass quite monotonously, lunch approaching faster than Tedros would have liked. Eating was now irrevocably linked to the punishment of washing dishes, an activity he had to endure with Hort.

———

———

———

The food (if you could call it that) they’d been served today seems to be coming off the tin pails well enough as Hort hasn’t heard Tedros complain yet. He’s slightly miffed because the gruel was famous for sticking to every available surface and not budging even if you rained hellfire down on it. The prince’s eyes haven’t left the sponge in his hands or the sink and buckets next to him, solely focused on the task.

Hort was almost bored. He scrubs at the plates, forks and knives on his side of the counter, the residue practically falling off with a touch.

This is the easiest chore he’s had to do ever.

He settles into thinking about Sophie.

Beautiful, cunning, flirtatious Sophie. Not that she ever flirted with him, but watching was almost just as good as the real experience. He sighs dreamily.

How she managed to look gorgeous in their lumpy, shapeless uniforms would remain a mystery of the universe till someone discovered how miracles worked.

After a few minutes he finally hears a short noise of frustration. He looks up to see Tedros scrubbing at a clump of gruel that has decided to stick to the side of a bucket like glue. The clump stubbornly remains even as the blond rubs at it harder and harder, muscles visibly straining under his shirt.

Tedros had given Hort his coat back earlier, looking oddly unbothered when he handed it over, lacking the sweet agitation Hort had been looking forward to.

The blond had held onto the jacket for a moment longer than Hort thought he’d meant to, their hands almost touching along the seams, Tedros abruptly letting go after Hort’s inquiring stare.

Hort had subconsciously licked his lips at the flush on Tedros’ cheeks as the prince had stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Hort doesn’t know what possesses him to walk over to the opposite side of the sink, but he comes to a stop behind Tedros, looking over his shoulder at the offending bucket.

“Piss off.” Tedros growls, a growl that rises into a squeak when Hort cages him in against the counter, arms on either side of the prince’s body, chest against Tedros’ back.

Tedros might have been more muscular, but Hort was taller.

“I can help.” Hort counters.

“I can do it myself.” Tedros hisses, squirming around in an attempt to shake the Neverboy.

Hort stays put, for some reason extremely comfortable with their positions.

Tedros is now whispering, like he’s afraid someone might overhear them, “I said, piss off.”

“Nah, you need help.”

Tedros stiffens in front of him like Hort just told his grandmother to jump off a cliff, apparently absurdly offended by Hort’s words, “I don’t.”

Hort leans in to whisper in Tedros’ ear, “You do.”

Goosebumps rise on the tan skin of Tedros’ neck and Hort has the sudden urge to bite down.

That thought has him freezing and then reeling backwards and away, suddenly breathless, “Um...you’re right, sorry about that,” he stutters out.

Hort kicks himself immediately afterwards. Sorry? What kind of Never says “sorry”?

Tedros blinks at him, clearly confused by the complete turnaround. Again there’s a pink flush high on his cheekbones and across his nose as he turns back around to the dishes, continuing with his task, shoulders now more tense than ever.

Hort stands there, still a little overwhelmed before trying to shake it off, running his hand through his hair. He heads back to his side and picks up a plate, pausing for a moment and then shaking his head once more, starting to scrub with new resolve.

The rest of the time passes silently, neither of them saying a thing.

Tedros seems to have figured out the stubborn clumps of gruel because he finishes at around the same time that Hort does. Which doesn’t really make sense until Hort remembers that he might have been slow in washing the Ever’s dishes because he kept glancing up every minute to stare at the prince.

Said prince hadn’t even looked up from the soapy water and dirty pails, not even raising his head, stubbornly focused.

Hort hears Tedros sigh in relief when the final bucket sits gleaming on the outdoor counter, throwing his blue coat over his shoulder and the sponge back into its container.

Hort is doing the same but he pauses when he sees Hester and Anadil stalk towards them like two wraiths, gliding over the grass in a scarily accurate imitation of grim reapers.

Why the hell would they want to talk to me? Hort worries, but the two witches completely blow past the Neverboy and come to a stop in front of the blond prince.

“Listen up, twink.” Hester growls.

Tedros balks at the nickname but before he can respond Hester continues, “You need to do something for me.”

Tedros lets out an incredulous laugh, “I need to do something for you?”

As far as Hort knows, Tedros and Hester have never spoken before this.

“Yes,” Hester hisses, but more like a deadly viper than a cat, “You’re going to get the bottle of booze I know Professor Espada hides in his office and you’re going to bring it over to Evil tonight.”

Tedros stares at her and crosses his arms over his chest, “What makes you think I can do that?”

Hester scoffs, “Oh please, everybody knows you’re his favorite, devil knows why.”

“What’s the stuff for?”

Hort sees in Tedros’ eyes that the prince knows exactly what the liquor is for, but he waits for an answer anyway.

“None of your fucking business.”

That’s exactly the response Hort expected from Hester.

Tedros seems to think about this for a while, gaze flicking over to Hort for a second before landing back on Hester and then Anadil next to her, “Alright, why not.”

That Hort had not expected.

He scuffs his boots against the grass with every step back to Evil, now absolutely sure that he’s going to Hester and Anadil’s “party”. All he had to do was avoid smoking and drinking, and he’d be sober in a room full of slightly less inhibited Nevers and a possibly present Tedros.

He wasn’t eager to see him but he couldn’t say he was indifferent.

———

———

———

Hort isn’t sure of the protocol with the witches of Room 666 but just as he raises his knuckles to knock on their door, it opens to reveal a beaming Dot on the other side, “Hi Hort, come on in!”

He ducks his head to step inside and is immediately hit in the face with a wall of thick smoke. Coughing and blinking hard, he pushes his way through the couple of Nevers already floored and sits down on the bed opposite a window. The bunks have somehow been separated and pushed into a sort of semicircle around the room. Sophie is lounging on one of them, eating some sort of weird vegetable snack, examining her nails while periodically looking towards the closed window at the far end of the room.

People come and go, some staying for longer and others only there for a short while before heading off with a nervous shrug, poorly concealing how much Hester and Anadil intimidate them. Dot manages to put some of them at ease with her strangely bubbly personality.

The sky slowly darkens outside and the red tint of last remaining sunlight is bleeding away on the horizon, almost completely gone when a barrage of storm clouds seems to appear out of nowhere and the gentle patter on the window panes quickly rises into a thundering, uninterrupted sound as the light rain turns into a downpour.

A little while later there’s a hard knock at the window and Hester stands up with a groan, “Finally! Thought he got scared.”

She cackles out loud and unlatches the window. A rain-soaked figure jumps in and pulls back a hood, revealing damp golden hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Did he actually just climb up Evil castle in the pouring rain?

Tedros pulls out two bottles from underneath his cloak and Hester snatches them without preamble, barely nodding once at the prince before plopping back down next to Anadil and uncorking one with a flourish.

Hort is still shocked at the fact that Tedros is actually here when Dot chimes in, “How did you get these?” And after a beat, with more confusion, “Why did you get them?”

Tedros grins and shrugs, “Why not?”

Sophie sashays up to him and puts a long-nailed hand on his arm, “You look absolutely drenched, darling. You must change out of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

Tedros shrugs again, but before setting off across the space in the direction of the bathroom, he carefully toes one boot off, then the other, then reaches down and in one fluid motion, peels the shirt off his body and over his head. As he does, Hort’s eyes travel up the expanse of glistening, rain-slickened golden skin and taut muscle, his mouth suddenly going dry.

Sophie watches the prince too, emerald eyes glimmering with barely concealed hunger.

Hort quickly screws his eyes shut and tries distracting himself with thoughts of Sophie; beautiful, dangerous Sophie. But as she stares at him from inside his mind, Tedros materializes underneath her and she’s not on her own but sitting on his lap, the two blonds, both with identical pantie-dropping smiles, staring at him from beneath his closed eyelids.

He decides that one drink couldn’t hurt, as long as it banishes the images of Sophie and Tedros from his mind.

———

Hort sniggers, “He definitely can’t handle it.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I ain’t a fucking lightweight.” Tedros shoots back.

“Oh yeah? Prove it pretty boy,” Hort taunts, “I’m looking forward to seeing you on your hands and knees.”

The second-hand smoke must already be getting to Tedros because the prince just winks at Hort, unbuttoning a couple more inches of the black shirt he’s borrowing, the sides falling open to reveal even more of his chest and lean stomach.

“That came out wrong.”

Tedros smirks, “Sure it did.”

Hort’s goes a little wide-eyed at the response. Where the hell was the uptight prince from before?

Hort thinks it must be because Tedros is a lightweight and he’s surely already tipsy. Surely.

The blond Ever is still here because Sophie had somehow manipulated him into staying and Hester was currently lining up shots for the crowd that’s left. The glasses teeter precariously on the charred remains of what Hort thinks used to be a nightstand.

He had loudly voiced his skepticism when Tedros stated that he could easily handle the amber liquid swirling around in one of the dark bottles.

Tedros was now in the process of trying to prove Hort wrong.

“Three shots minimum,” Hester sneers, “More if you aren’t a pussy.”

Tedros is downing the shots before Hort can blink, five loud hits on the table for each shot glass.

To Tedros’ credit, he doesn’t throw up or look sick after, only grimacing at the characteristic bitterness of the liquor.

———

———

———

At some point Dot had put on music, some sort of mellow beat with a deep bass. The few Nevers that weren’t already stoned out of their minds are swaying in the middle of the room, the low light from the torches on the wall creating a dark, magnetic atmosphere.

That’s the thought Hort has in his head as he watches Tedros and Sophie rock against each other under the lights, sensual and slow in their movements. Tedros’ hands on Sophie’s hips and Sophie’s arms around Tedros’ neck.

They look like two angels fallen from grace, their blond hair glimmering red under the dim light.

In her heels Sophie is not much shorter than Tedros, the prince would only have to lean down a couple more inches to press their lips together. Their eyes are locked onto each other and Hort sees Sophie’s nails dig harder into the muscle of Tedros’ shoulders, her smile evil when Tedros hisses a breath in through his teeth.

But he doesn’t seem to mind that much as he pulls her closer, head falling forward to rest on a delicate shoulder, slightly parted lips at her collarbone.

Staring at them Hort doesn’t know who he’s more jealous of. And that thought scares him shitless.

Sophie’s back arches when Tedros slides his hands from her hips to her waist, tightening his grip slightly. Like a page torn out of a fashion shoot, they dance with an effortless grace, the tempo following them more than they follow it.

The music is still thrumming throughout the room, the beat in Hort’s ears matching the beat in his heart. His lungs thrum with the waves of the bass.

Sophie turns around in Tedros’ arms, her back against the prince’s chest and arms reaching up with the pulse of the music, continuing to sway, head falling back onto Tedros’ shoulder.

Tedros keeps one hand on her hip and slides the other up to her ribs, matching her rhythm and movements with a skill Hort couldn’t replicate to save his life. The borrowed Never uniform looks horribly perfect on Tedros and Hort understands why the word “pretty” is used so often to describe him. Dazzling blue eyes seem to glitter even under the shadow of Tedros’ half-lowered lashes.

Sophie looks supernatural as she dances in her skin-tight black dress, glimmering blonde hair and legs for miles making it impossible for Hort to tear his eyes away.

Green eyes open so suddenly that Hort can’t look away in time, their eyes meeting across the room, time slowing when Sophie crooks a finger, beckoning him forward. Tedros must be feeling those shots because he doesn’t object when Hort shakily rises to his feet and makes his way over to the two blondes, like a man heading off to his execution.

As soon as Hort is near enough Sophie turns to face Tedros again, one arm already around his neck when she reaches back and tugs Hort forward against her back.

Hort gulps when his hands are guided to her waist.

He meets Tedros’ dark stare over Sophie’s shoulder and almost leaves right then and there. Because if this is what Tedros looked with his inhibitions gone, Hort doesn’t think he’ll survive the night.

Moving under the flickering red flames and half-light, Sophie dancing in front of him, the only place to look is at the prince. Shadows play over Tedros’ cheekbones and lips, making his features look sharper, more dangerous. Not like an Ever at all.

Sophie seems to have lost all semblance of finesse as she spins around, hand in Tedros’ shirt, pushing the prince backwards into Hort’s arms, Tedros now sandwiched between Sophie and Hort, body flush against the Neverboy’s front.

Tedros gasps but doesn’t try to escape, quick breaths coming from slightly parted lips as he keeps swaying with the slow beat pulsing through the room, neck arching as he slowly relaxes against Hort.

Hort loses all sense of time dancing with the two of them. Angels that acted an awful lot like well-disguised demons, ready to carry him to their own exclusive circle of hell. He meets Sophie’s emerald eyes, something unidentifiable burning in her gaze as she presses closer to Tedros, further reducing the distance between them. Tedros’ hands tighten on her waist.

By chance Hort catches the look of dissatisfaction growing on Hester’s face. The witch must not be getting all the information from unwilling victims that she wants.

The tattooed witch suddenly stands up and taps on her glass with long, blood red fingernails, “Let’s play a game,” she proposes, looking around and daring anyone to oppose her.

No one says a word as Dot turns the music down and Hester sits back down next to Anadil, the albino’s arm slipping around her waist automatically.

Hester doesn’t seem to mind, almost leaning into it.

“Truth or dare,” she says, placing her glass down on the floor next to her.

Ravan groans, “Ugh, that game.”

Hester looks ready to murder the dark-skinned Neverboy but Anadil’s hand on her forearm gets her to settle down.

Hester fixes threatening eyes on Tedros, the prince sitting between Hort and Sophie and looking far more relaxed than he had any right to be considering his position as an Ever surrounded by Nevers, “You’re going first,” she sneers.

Tedros smirks, his Ever charm obvious in his eyes, “Of course.”

It was definitely the drinks from before.

Hester bristles, but opens her mouth anyway, her desire to gain intel apparently stronger than her urge to seriously maim Tedros, “Truth or dare?”

The way she says dare is obviously confrontational and if Hort has learned anything from Tedros’ behaviour in the past week, it’s his inability to turn down a challenge.

“Dare.”

Hester smiles, something absurdly frightening in her expression. She glances around the room, presumably searching for inspiration. Her gaze lands on Hort and he’s never been more terrified in his life.

After a moment her smile widens.

“I dare you,” she pauses, demon twitching on her neck, “to kiss Hort,” she leans forward, hands on her knees, “for a full minute.”

Hort chokes on the air he’s trying to breathe in. Wow, she got right into it.

Tedros must really be honest to god hammered because he doesn’t even flinch, turning to Hort with fire in his blue eyes.

He leans in without any hesitation, eyes falling closed as their lips finally touch. Hort inhales sharply through his nose.

Tedros kisses like he fights. With skill and unwavering intensity, one hand on Hort’s leg and the other on his shoulder, fingers digging in, pulling him closer with every touch.

Hort doesn’t know how he summons the madness (or bravery) but he’s suddenly pressing forward, running his fingers through silky blonde hair and tugging at it, making Tedros let out a barely audible whine against his mouth.

The sound has Hort gripping Tedros’ waist, maybe a little harder than he should. Or exactly the right amount because Tedros fists his hand into Hort’s shirt, tugging the Never even closer.

Tedros has already crawled halfway into Hort’s lap when they’re doused with a bucket of cold water. Hort wrenches himself back, spluttering through it. Tedros is gasping at the cold, mouth open in shock, lips still red and bruised.

The image has Hort biting the inside of his cheek.

“The minute’s up,” Hester says, letting the bucket dangle loosely from her fingers.

Tedros clears his throat and leans back against the wall behind him, the picture of indifference.

If it wasn’t for the flush creeping down his face and under his shirt.

Hester’s eyes glint as she observes Hort. He should feel uncomfortable under her calculating gaze but he can’t seem to pull himself from the memory of Tedros’ lips, hands clenched in the fabric of his pants.

“Party’s over,” she says calmly, “Get out.”

The rest of the Nevers leave, more or less sluggishly depending on how much they indulged in Hester’s “offerings”.

Sophie offers to walk Tedros back but he shrugs her off, insisting he can make it on his own, insisting that he’s not drunk, not even a little. The prince is betrayed by his own feet when he trips over nothing, steadying himself on the wall with a laugh and following the others out.

Their eyes meet one more time as Tedros is rounding the doorway, sapphire blue eyes looking too big and too innocent after what he did to Hort. And what Hort did to him. Then they’re gone and Hort lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He tries to regain some sense of clarity with a pinch to his arm, scuffing his shoes on the floor before walking out the door, leaving Sophie and the rest of the witches of room 666 without a backward glance, water dripping from his wet shirt.

———

———

———

Tedros falls into Honor Room 18 with a thud, window clattering shut behind him, cursing under his breath as he knocks over a stack of books.

The light from the other side of the room flickers on and Tedros’ guilty figure is bathed in light, frozen in the process of haphazardly putting the books back to their original places.

Chaddick does not look impressed as he takes Tedros in, scanning over the tattered black shirt that he’s wearing, the Everboy uniform tucked under an arm, his damp hair and obvious inability to meet Chaddick’s eyes.

“What. The fuck.”

Chapter 6: Pressure

Summary:

Dammit Sophie.

(That’s it. That’s the summary.)

Notes:

- Finally got over my enormous case of writer’s block, woo woo.
- I have an insta under the same username where I post chapter updates and moodboards ;)
- Tedros and Hort are emotionally constipated idiots. But we already knew that.

Chapter Text

“YOU WENT OVER TO EVIL?”

Tedros scrambles to shush him, hand pressed over Chaddick’s mouth, “Say it louder I don’t think Professor Dovey heard you,” Tedros hisses. He pulls his hand off with a huff, “Yeah I know I don’t usually do this but—“

“You never do this.”

Tedros slumps, “Yeah.”

Chaddick’s expression softens when he sees the look on his best friend’s face, still a little glazed over and too unsteady for Chaddick to stay angry.

Tedros was doing things that were so unusual that it had Chaddick worried, “You’re probably not going to remember anything tomorrow,” he says.

Tedros pulls his damp shirt over his head and kicks off his boots, falling down backwards onto his bed, hands covering his face.

Chaddick barely makes out the words, “Doesn’t matter—too many drinks—tired anyway,” before Tedros is pushing his pillow under his head and turning towards the wall, back to Chaddick.

Chaddick watches him for a bit, trying to wrap his head around this new version of Tedros.

It wasn’t bad. Just different, less closed off and more open, unrestrained.

He turns off the light, falling back onto his bed when he notices Tedros shift slightly on the other side of the room.

“It was… nice,” Tedros says softly into the dark, voice barely a murmur, probably saying it more to himself than Chaddick.

Chaddick studies Tedros’ turned back and decides he doesn’t mind the changes.

———

Tedros wakes up, or at least he thinks he does, before realizing that something’s not quite right.

He’s in Malice Tower again, but the walls look hazy and distorted, like he’s stuck behind a waterfall. Hort appears in front of him, his details razor sharp against the blurry background.

Dark hair gleams in the light of the torches, deep brown eyes pin him down and Tedros finds that he can’t move. He looks down to see that his feet have been glued to the floor by some sickly pink sap. He struggles to free himself, growing more desperate as Hort starts walking towards him.

Pale skin looks like smooth, unbroken marble and Tedros shrinks back, all his usual bravery fleeing at the sight of him so close.

Why?

Hort is now near enough to kiss, only a few inches between their noses.

Their lips finally touch and Tedros is… floating. The gossamer touch of clouds on his skin tells him that they’re somewhere up in the sky, midnight or sunrise or noon, Tedros can’t focus.

He chokes when a suffocating force is suddenly squeezing at his throat, he opens his eyes in alarm, only to see Hort shattering in his grasp, black and white pieces drifting away on the wind like fractured petals.

It’s all so fast and Tedros can’t react quick enough.

He grabs out in desperation, but the jagged pieces glance off his fingers, fading into the air like a wisp of smoke.

He’s left shaking, shivering and all alone.

Tedros wakes up with a gasp, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

———

Hort tries to feel less awkward when he walks up to Tedros during lunch, attempting an air of civility and pushing more problematic thoughts to the back of his mind. The swirl of emotions in his head is too much for him to sort through so he settles for focusing on one at a time.

“Um, about last night.”

Tedros does a double take at the sound of Hort’s voice, wincing in response and rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, Sophie told me all about it.”

Hort blinks in surprise, “You don’t remember?”

It was perfectly reasonable given how drunk he must have been but Hort still hadn’t thought Tedros would actually forget.

“Can you believe I kissed her for so long that Hester poured a bucket of water over us?”

Hort stiffens, “—what?”

“So fucking embarrassing,” Tedros groans, “I never drink and I thought I could take five shots with no problem?” He sighs in defeat, “Well, it’s definitely like me to act that stupid.”

There’s an uncomfortable feeling rising in Hort’s chest, his skin suddenly feels too tight.

Tedros furrows his brow, “I guess I like her more than I thought.”

The lump in Hort’s throat gets bigger and he looks down at his shoes, the grass under his feet suddenly very interesting, “Yeah.”

“She kisses differently than I thought she would.”

Hort almost drops his school bag, “—Huh?”

Tedros seems to be unaware of Hort’s change in attitude because he continues, “It’s hard to describe,” he then shakes his head with a strained laugh, “Wait, why am I telling you this?”

“Typical of an Ever to overshare,” Hort says shortly, deciding to dismiss the uncomfortable swirl of feelings thrumming underneath his skin, adding a derisive snort at the end for good measure.

Tedros scowls and Hort relaxes slightly. They’re back to the old routine.

After lunch they’re back at the washing counter, the sound of running water the only thing breaking the silence.

Hort’s mind sends him a mental image of him leaning across the counter and kissing Tedros, right then and there, and he thinks, What the fuck?

But Tedros is standing there, elbow-deep in soapy water, all blonde hair and blue eyes, relaxed as if the events of yesterday hadn’t happened.

Get it together.

Hort scrubs harder at the plate in his hands than he necessarily has to, small traces of leftover food sloughing away with the slightest pressure. Hort lessens the force of his rubbing a little when he hears the ceramic creak in his hands.

This was stupid.

Hort liked Sophie. Beautiful, flirty, fashion-forward, backstabbing Sophie.

Anger sparks in his chest and he forces himself to put the plate back down before he breaks it, gripping the counter so hard his knuckles turn white.

He’s angry at Sophie for lying.

He’s angry with himself for liking her regardless.

He’s angry at Tedros for confusing him.

———

Yuba separates the Evers and Nevers during forest group, talks to them about which spells they’ll need in the Trial by Tale and proceeds to pull out a shiny silver key from his pocket, the bit shaped like a swan.

“Evers, right hands, please.”

Baffled Evers look at each other, and hold out their hands.

Yuba walks up to Agatha first and before she can react he plunges the key into her finger, twists, and her fingertip glows bright orange, dulling after Yuba withdraws the key.

Yuba does that with each Ever and then he makes his way over to the Nevers, methodically going through student after student, each fingertip glowing with a different color.

Agatha’s had been bright orange, Tedros’ had been a softer, yellowish orange, Hester had red, Anadil had green, Sophie had hot pink.

Hort freezes when Yuba unlocks his finger-glow. The crystal blue light shining back at him is like a confession. He tries to tell himself that the shame he feels isn’t obvious but his face feels hot and his pulse is racing.

He’s sweating through his uniform, and even though he knows it’s only the paranoia, the knowledge isn’t easing his anxiety at all. He’s almost certain nobody even cares about the color of his glow but he can’t help wringing his clammy hands in his uniform.

The color of his finger-glow exactly matching the hue of a certain prince’s eyes makes him sick to his stomach.

He keeps telling himself it doesn’t mean anything as he’s walking back to Evil. It can’t mean anything, because if it does Hort won’t know what to do with himself.

Maybe exercise will get his mind off things.

After running a couple laps around Evil castle Hort is already wheezing, deciding that that was certainly enough cardio for the day and moving on to his daily number of pushups and situps, all the while not thinking about the two blondes that were making his life hell.

Hort kissed Tedros. Tedros doesn’t remember. Tedros thinks he kissed Sophie.

He’s ruminating throughout the entirety of his workout and he just wants to turn his feelings off for a little bit, ignore whatever it is.

Entering the room he shares with Ravan, the other Neverboy gives him a once-over and scoffs, “You stink.”

Ravan is lying on his bed, lanky figure slouched lazily against the headboard, textbook in hand.

“I was training,” Hort mutters, “and I got sweaty.”

“I can see that.”

Hort glares at Ravan but the other Neverboy just offers him a shit-eating grin.

“I’m leaving,” Hort grumbles.

Ravan sets down his book on the bedside table and folds his hands in his lap, observing Hort, head tilted slightly to the side as if in contemplation.

“What did Tedros say,” the bronze-skinned Neverboy gestures exaggeratedly at his own lips, “when you talked to him about what happened?”

Hort looks away, “Sophie said it was her.”

“Sophie said it was her…” Ravan repeats, confused.

“She told him that he kissed her, not me.”

Ravan looks bemused for a moment, but nods his head in understanding, “Huh,” he seems impressed, “Smart witch.”

Hort crosses his arms over his chest, momentarily forgetting his want to leave, “Why the hell is that smart?”

Ravan folds his hands under his head, leaning back again, “Well, if Prince Prettyface falls in love with her, she’s got a source on the other side,” he raises his eyebrows, “Pretty big advantage if you ask me.”

Hort narrows his eyes, not quite sure about Sophie’s motives anymore.

Did she really like Tedros, or was she just using him?

Both options make him uneasy.

The next two weeks pass uneventfully and Hort’s proud that he manages to scarf down pile after pile of vomit-inducing bucket meat every lunch. All in the quest for getting buff.

He’d even worked out a routine he could do every day and was already eager to see results. Obviously he knew it couldn’t happen overnight but that didn’t stop Hort from inspecting himself in the mirror every morning.

Days are always a blur of people and activity, rushing by in a flurry of imperceptible movement. But time seems to slow and stutter to a stop when he and Tedros wash the lunch dishes together. It’s the single point of calm in the storm of every school day.

Hort tries to ignore Tedros and Sophie’s growing closeness, but it’s impossible to miss. Sophie is even more physically affectionate and Tedros lets her. But Hort doesn’t really think they’ll ever date, it doesn’t want to make sense in his head.

Everybody else had already shuffled inside after finishing their meals, Nevers haphazardly throwing their buckets in the big bin while the Evers had stacked their baskets neatly next to the counter.

Hort and Tedros go through each of their piles in comfortable silence, washing the buckets and silverware with a quiet efficiency. Hort still can’t recall when their antagonistic relationship had evolved into something more amicable, even friendly.

Hort had begun rising in the ranks and he could almost feel the ticket to the Trial in his hands. All he has to do is be the top Never in his Forest Group and it’s a done deal.

But Sophie has been rising in the ranks as well, and it’s getting Hort worried. If there was one thing he wanted more than to have her, it was getting into that Trial and finally having his moment of glory.

The last day of Hort and Tedros’ mutual punishment arrives and Hort is strangely melancholy about the whole thing. He looks up to see Tedros already staring at him, blue eyes thoughtful.

A corner of the prince’s mouth lifts, a private, quiet little smile, just for Hort, a sign of their mutual benevolence.

———

In some ways the chore they have after lunch is calming. Tedros doesn’t feel as negatively towards Hort anymore and credits that to them working across from each other everyday.

Both of them finish around the same time and Hort is already pulling on his coat when Tedros gets an idea.

“Hey, Hort,” he calls, “Want to see something cool?”

The Neverboy squints at him suspiciously, “Really?”

Tedros shrugs, “You don’t have to.”

Hort pauses for a moment before nodding, a shrug of his shoulders the final sign of assent.

Tedros sets off towards the blue forest, Hort by his side, shadows slanting together in the early afternoon sunlight.

Tedros plops down at the edge of the treeline, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands.

Hort stands there for a bit, unsure.

Tedros pats the ground next to him without looking up.

“What are we looking at?”

“Just wait,” Tedros answers.

Fidgeting a little, Hort sits down next to the other boy, keeping a healthy distance between them, peering over his shoulder, probably watching out for other Nevers.

Hort couldn’t be caught dead sitting next to an Everboy.

They sit there in silence, just like everyday at the wash counter.

“You want to make the Trial team right?” Tedros asks, turning slightly to look at Hort.

“Yeah,” Hort says, raking his hair back with his fingers, “You too, right?”

Tedros hums in agreement, that part of his future already set in stone.

“I want to make my dad proud.”

Tedros watches Hort’s profile, stark colors and angled lines dark against the light sky.

“Is he a pirate like the rest of the villains from Bloodbrook?”

“Was.” Hort says, staring down at his hands.

“Oh.”

“I know I can’t be sad about it because I’m a Never but…”

Tedros shakes his head, “You can, it’s your dad.”

After a while Hort swallows, “I miss him.”

Tedros nods. Then scoots closer until their thighs are touching. Hort kind of feels like he’s on fire. Suddenly it’s so much raw emotion, and Tedros is so close, and so far out of Hort’s reach.

“I know,” Tedros murmurs.

And then Hort’s crying, and Tedros puts an arm around him, pulls Hort’s face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. They fit like puzzle pieces.

Hort thanks whatever God there is that he still has the clarity of mind not to get even closer. He resists the urge to pull Tedros into his lap and twists a hand in the front of Tedros’ unlaced shirt instead.

Tedros’ hand travels up Hort’s back and then his fingers are in Hort’s hair. And Tedros already knows him so fucking well somehow, knows Hort couldn’t take soft shush-ing or caressing right now, so the Ever cards his fingers through the long strands of Hort’s dark hair and holds him tight and close.

It’s grounding and centering in a way Hort can’t quite describe. He’s not sure it would even work if it wasn’t Tedros.

Hort doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, but eventually, he calms down and is just kind of lying there, limp against Tedros’ shoulder. He’s tired. The blond’s hand is still in his hair. Hort lifts his head and sees blue.

They’re so close. He could kiss Tedros and barely move a muscle.

The prince puts his hands on both sides of Hort’s face and wipes his tears away with his thumbs. “Hey,” he whispers, sweet and caring and not at all like the enemy Hort had thought he was.

The sky behind Tedros is a woven mess of pink and orange and yellow, white curves of fluff coiling through the other colors, a mosaic of pastel streaks meeting the sapphire and navy outline of the blue forest. Rays of brilliant sunlight wash Tedros in gold.

This must be what Tedros had wanted to show him.

Chapter 7: Leave You Lonely

Summary:

“I will vanish in the morning light; I was only an invention of darkness.”

- Angela Carter

Notes:

It took me forever to write this chapter but it’s finally finished.

Woohoo bring on the sadness ;)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Something definitely changes between them after that, their friendly toleration of each other edging into real friendship. It shouldn’t scare Hort as much as it does.

Even though they’re not washing the after-lunch dishes anymore, they start spending time together.

It must be some subconscious thing because Tedros doesn’t ask and neither does Hort. It just happens.

Hort has his back against one of the trees in the clearing, the trunk steady against his back, opposite to the fluttering grass beneath his fingertips, moving with the changing winds.

Tedros sits next to him, a couple inches between their shoulders.

They have an unspoken agreement to only sit like this when they’re alone, neither wanting the scornful attention of other Evers and Nevers.

Hort jumps at the sudden presence of a hand on his bicep, tan fingers press in right above his elbow and when he gives the blond next to him an affronted stare Tedros doesn’t even notice, glaring at the distance between his thumb and the tips of his other fingers as they wrap around Hort’s arm.

Hort laughs nervously, “What are you doing?”

Tedros meets Hort’s eyes in realization, clearing his throat and giving Hort a hearty pat on the back, “Just noticed you’ve been putting on muscle, that’s all.”

Hort gives an embarrassed laugh, dropping his gaze. But Tedros is still staring at him, blue eyes like a white-hot brand on Hort’s skin.

Tedros finally snorts out a laugh, leaning back on his hands, “I could still beat you hand to hand.”

Hort bristles slightly at the challenge in his voice, anticipation coursing through his veins even before his retort, “Oh, yeah?”

Tedros looks him up and down, baring his teeth, “Yeah.”

The confidence in the prince’s voice is irritating. Hort wants to knock him down a few pegs.

“Prove it.”

There’s fire in Tedros’ smile and eyes, the upward curve of his mouth positively wicked.

“Best two out of three?”

“No need,” Hort grins, “Sudden death.”

Tedros raises his eyebrows, “One round?”

“Scared?”

“No.”

“Good,” Hort cracks his knuckles, “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

Tedros vaults to his feet and Hort pushes off the tree, legs bent into a ready crouch as he stands.

Tedros lunges for him first, and if it had landed, Hort would be in trouble. Lucky for him, his speed and reflexes had been getting faster and he backs away, fast enough to dodge the grab.

He still feels a rush of wind brush over his skin. Tedros twists into his space again, but Hort barrels into him, grabbing him by the waist and pushing him back towards the tree trunk.

Hort uses his forward momentum to slam Tedros into the bark, but stumbles back when Tedros pushes him.

Tedros steps forward and Hort goes on the offensive. He ducks down and goes for Tedros’ shoulder. Tedros dodges and backs away, but mid step he lashes out and kicks at Hort’s feet.

Hort lands on his back and Tedros wastes no time jumping on him. He straddles the other boy’s stomach and seizes Hort’s wrists in his hands, pinning them to the ground besides his head.

Hort bucks, trying to throw Tedros off, but the blond maintains his balance.

A smug smile spread across Tedros’ features.

“Well, you’re definitely not as good as me,” he taunts, loosening his grip on Hort’s wrists slightly.

In that split second of distraction Hort flips them over, the force of the movement punches a gasp out of Tedros.

“Oh,” Hort smirks, “That’s too cocky for my taste.”

Tedros’ jaw drops as he looks up at him, “You cheated.”

“Did you expect a Never to play fair?” Hort lets out a patronizing sigh, “How naive.”

Tedros sticks out his bottom lip in a displeased pout, “Cheater.”

“Yeah, I think we’ve established that.”

The pout curls into a puckish grin, “Do you think I’m above cheating?”

“What—“

Too quick for Hort to register, in a blur of movement, their positions switch again and Tedros is settling on Hort’s hips, knees on either side of Hort’s torso.

The exertion must have caught up to him because Tedros is panting, chest heaving through undone shirt laces.

Hort gulps.

This feels too intimate.

Tedros lets his head fall forwards, eyes still locked onto Hort through lowered lashes and golden curls.

Hort sits up slowly and lets his eyes trail over toned muscles and tan skin.

The sunset paints the sky in pinks and oranges and makes Tedros look fiercely ethereal, ocean eyes a luminous shade that even the blue forest behind him can’t match, golden hair an ever present halo around his head.

He feels Tedros’ warmth coming off his body in waves, because he always runs hot.

He’s suddenly hyper aware of the languid roll of Tedros’ hips, the solid, warm pressure on his thigh and the soft pads of Tedros’ fingertips against the smooth skin of his back, right above the waistband of his uniform.

He can’t even remember why Tedros is sitting in his lap but now that’s all he can think about.

Times stutters and slows to a stop.

The haze shatters with the sound of loud chatter through the trees of the Never tunnel and Hort leaps to his feet, Tedros falling off and onto the hard ground at the sudden movement.

Hort’s eyes are wide and his jaw tense as he packs up his bag in a hurry, faltering backwards. He doesn’t say anything as he trips in his rush to turn around, faltering shortly before speed-walking towards the Never tunnel where Dot and Sophie appear in the opening, deep enough in their conversation that they miss Hort slinking past them into the tunnel of trees.

Hort hears a joyous cry of “Teddy!”, before he’s too far away to catch the rest. Hort is tempted to turn back but opts for hightailing back to his dorm room, ignoring the annoying, pathetic voice in the back of his head, trying to forget the way Tedros had looked when Hort had briefly glimpsed backwards.

Big blue eyes, wide and confused, shining with something Hort couldn’t identify.

———

Sophie sashays towards him and Tedros doesn’t really know how to feel. He’s still reeling from the aftershock of Hort and with the girl who he thinks he might love strutting towards him, it’s a little too much.

“Teddy!” Sophie calls, “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

I wasn’t alone.

“Just thinking about the Trial by Tale.”

“You’re getting in?”

Tedros squares his shoulders, “Of course.”

Sophie offers another brief smile before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, “Did you know I’m nearly the top Never at school?”

Tedros glances at the board. Her name is placed third, two places above Hort’s.

“That you are.”

He gives her a once-over. Today it was a black, satin jumper with a red sash cinching in her waist and matching rubies at her throat and earlobes. She preens under his attention.

“You have time to make your outfits.”

Sophie gives him a coy smile, “Do you like them?”

Tedros can’t lie, “Yes.”

In the past few weeks Sophie had proven that she wasn’t just a pretty face. She had risen exponentially in the ranks, still continuing her lunchtime lectures and showing off a new outfit everyday.

She was beautiful, generous, charitable and kind.

The perfect princess.

And that kiss at Hester’s party.

Granted he couldn’t exactly remember the details, but something back then had sparked alive. All Tedros can recall is the wave of heat that he’d felt himself caught up in, something fierce and vibrant, preciously singular.

He remembers dancing with her under the low red lights, everything in shadow, an electric haze.

“Dot,” he starts, “Could you give us a moment, please?”

“Wow, such manners,” Dot whispers with a slack-jawed stare, “I wish Hester and Anadil were like that.”

Dot walks off after giving Sophie a quick pat on the shoulder which the blonde Nevergirl shakes off with a roll of her eyes, forever playing the unattainable vixen.

Sophie gazes up at Tedros with expectant eyes, “Yes?”

“Do you know what I want to ask you?”

A moment of silence descends upon them like fog, but Sophie’s green eyes pierce through like twin lighthouses.

“I do,” she breathes.

“You know that this will throw the schools in upheaval?”

“I do.”

“You know that you will spend the rest of your life trying to prove you’re Good?”

Sophie’s emerald eyes glimmer, “I do.”

Tedros moves closer, “Sophie of Woods Beyond,” he takes both her hands in his, “Will you be my princess forever after?”

———

Tedros and Sophie walk up to the lunch line, hand in hand and Hort feels like throwing up. Sophie is gazing up lovingly at Tedros, a finger twirling the laces of his shirt with a coquettish sweetness. Tedros smiles back down at her, looking completely enamoured.

A marked betrayal.

They stroll hand in hand towards a large oak tree in the middle of the clearing, pressed together like two love birds in early spring.

Tedros and Sophie’s hair glow golden in the noon sun and their eyes are like precious gems, sparkling with every glint of light.

The two of them are too perfect for him to hold onto, moving through life with a flawless grace that Hort is too broken to even copy, his own faults and cracks running too deep under his skin.

It hurts and Hort wants to hurt back. He wants to lash out, push his pain on someone else so he’ll stop feeling so weak, so vulnerable. The jealousy festering in his chest has pushed his heart into his throat, the beat of it pounding in his head.

Tedros makes everything look effortless. Hort knows this because he watches, sees every casual flicker of Tedros’ elegant hands, the strong lines of his shoulders as he strides down stairways, graceful feet as he twirls Sophie around, through green grass and lush wildflowers, dashing and charming, the golden prince to Hort’s lonesome villain.

That sharp bite of jealousy he could usually ignore before is now accompanied by a tidal wave of inadequacy and pain that rubs salt and shattered glass in his wounds.

Maybe that’s why he’s doing this.

“You actually kissed her didn’t you?”

Tedros stares at him, surprised. Blonde curls still messy from Hort dragging him around a corner after lunch, a red flush already high on his cheeks. A faint blush seemed to be permanently fixed to the prince’s face lately, Hort would have thought more about it, if it hadn’t been so annoyingly distracting.

The prince had recently begun to let his guard down around Hort, seemingly unworried in the Neverboy’s presence.

His mistake.

Hort invades Tedros’ space, leaving only a couple inches between their bodies. Tedros tries backing up, but for every step the prince takes backwards, Hort takes one forward until he has Tedros pressed up against the wall, cold stone surely digging hard into his back.

Tedros winces, but makes no move to escape.

Hort had cornered the blond while everyone else was busy enjoying the first sunlight they had seen in months. It hadn’t been covert at all, but he can’t bring himself to care. Sophie had gone off in a hurry for some reason, leaving Tedros more or less alone.

Hort is so close to the Everboy that those big blue eyes look like oceans he could drown in.

Those same blue eyes had looked into green ones before a loving kiss.

“Your lips touched hers” Hort spits out, rage and jealousy boiling in his heart like a toxic potion.

Tedros remains silent, staring up at Hort, with something akin to pity in his eyes.

That serves only to make Hort angrier.

“What do you have that I don’t?”

Tedros doesn’t say anything and Hort decides that he’s had enough. The prince doesn’t want to talk?

Fine. Hort would do the speaking for the both of them.

“You and Sophie have kissed and she thinks she loves you. But I know you don’t deserve her. She’s beautiful and perfect and so much better than you could ever be!”

Tedros seems to shrink under the weight of Hort’s words and the Never takes cruel satisfaction in seeing the prince hurt.

“Everything you have is just surface-level crap,” he spits. “Whoever you are under all that costume is not fucking worth it.”

Tedros squeezes his eyes shut, shoulders hiking up and body twisting away.

Hort’s stare is empty when he says what he wants most, “I hope Sophie breaks your heart.”

Hort doesn’t look back as he turns to leave.

When he gets into the Trial by Tale he’s going to crush the rest and emerge as the only one victorious, winning by himself, all alone, like he’s done every time before.

Notes:

I know this is not what we signed up for but it’s going to get better I promise!!!!

I need to get through the terrible parts to get to the good ones and I like hurting myself with my own words so please bear with me!!

Chapter 8: Someone You Loved

Summary:

“Blue is the typical heavenly color. The ultimate feeling it creates is one of rest. When it sinks to almost black, it echoes grief that is hardly human.
—Kandinsky

Notes:

Sweet pain... AHAHAHAHA

@goldilocks_lovelier_sister inspired me to finish this chapter, I love you boo.

Chapter Text

Hort’s words echo in his head as he walks back to the clearing to join the rest of the Evers. Vindictive words from someone Tedros thought he could consider a friend.

He lets out a bitter laugh.

I guess that’s over.

Some of the other Evers still don’t want to talk to him after his and Sophie’s debut as a couple, but Tedros doesn’t really mind that much. With Chaddick by his side their silence is bearable.

It wasn’t their job to like Sophie, it was his. He still feels kind of bad about his animosity towards her those first few weeks but now he knows that he must have misjudged her.

As Tedros had watched Sophie lecture the Nevers on the importance of maintaining good personal hygiene, he’d seen her like he hadn’t before. She wasn’t just a ditzy blonde girl obsessed with her looks, she was also intelligent and witty and kind.

Their eyes had met over the heads of other Nevergirls and Sophie had smiled at him.

Not like she had before, with a smirk and a wink, but with an honest, open gaze, as if willing him to see her as she truly is.

I hope Sophie breaks your heart.

Tedros’ hands clench in the fabric of his pants, jaw tight. He had no reason to doubt Sophie. She loved him. She would protect him. She would stand by him no matter what.

“What’s going on?”

Chaddick’s voice startles him out of his thoughts and he rushes to school his expression.

“There’s nothing going on.” Tedros’ face remains carefully blank. “I’m just thinking about some stuff”

Chaddick leans forward and looks Tedros straight in the eye. The fingers of his left hand twitch as his unbothered facade begins to fracture under his friend’s scrutiny.

Tedros places a hand on Chaddick’s shoulder in reassurance, “Really, all good.”

Chaddick still looks sceptical as they amble off to their afternoon classes, shooting contemplative glances his way every now and then.

Professor Dovey reminds them that the announcement for the Trial by Tale participants is the next day and Tedros is suddenly alert in his seat, the news bringing his previously glum mood sky-high.

He would be able to win for Good, bring victory to their school once again, prove to the others that he wasn’t an inferior Ever just for dating someone from the Evil school.

The following day is a blur and Tedros doesn’t know whether he should be thankful or nervous. Hort still doesn’t talk to him and Tedros refuses to let himself miss it.

Yuba can sense their anticipation before he even announces the two competitors from their Forest Group, eyeing all the anxious Evers and Nevers, practically vibrating with eagerness for the results.

———

Hort might be the most anxious out of all of them. He had to make the Trial Team. This is what he had been working towards for the past two months.

Tedros and Beatrix are hanging on Yuba’s next words.

“From Group 3, Tedros will represent Good,” Yuba says.

Hort sees Tedros exhale in relief.

“And Sophie will represent Evil.”

Hort massages his ears. He’d heard wrong surely. No way she beat him.

But after the shock fades from Sophie’s delicate features, she just looks scared, nervous. It’s a peculiar reaction and only serves to confuse him.

After all the announcements are made Tedros joins Sophie and their hushed conversation ends with Sophie falling into Tedros’ arms, a relieved smile spread across her face.

The smile falls after Tedros leaves, green eyes dark and hands white-knuckled.

Hort is furious, rage swirls in his chest and up into his throat, through his arms and down his legs, encapsulating him completely.

Sophie got onto the Trial Team? The girl whose biggest dream was to be a princess is representing Evil? The girl who had been failing all her classes a few weeks ago was suddenly Evil’s greatest witch?

This was the biggest kick in the face since he discovered his manwolf side was dormant.

Evers leave through the west tunnel, Nevers through the east to trek back to Evil. Hort is fuming as he walks back to the dorm rooms, slamming the door behind himself when he enters. He hears the wood crack but can’t bring himself to care.

The next week was going to be hell. All the trial participants would be taking part in special training and other preparations while the rest of them carried on like normal.

The next day isn’t even over before he hears about Sophie’s abysmal performance in challenge after challenge. She placed 15th in Uglification, 15th in Henchman and 15th again in Curses with Lady Lesso.

The next few days pass much in the same manner. Hort hears from someone that Sophie was cheating before and that’s how she’d gotten into the Trail. Sophie earns three more last places the last day and Hort can tell Tedros is furious with her by the obvious chill between them.

Suppose Sophie had cheated. Did Tedros know? Had he helped her?

Hort pushes down the rage that thought brings him and drags himself outside for the night of the Trial.

The unpicked Nevers are hovering near their tunnel in slippers and nightcaps, ready to flee at their team’s first sign of humiliation. The unpicked Evers look like they’re ready for a slumber party, with pillows, blankets, baskets of assorted snacks and pitchers of pink lemonade.

Castor and Pollux have lined up the competitors in order of their entrance. Because they fared worst in the pre-trial challenges, Sophie and Kiko would enter exactly at sundown, followed by Brone and Tristan 15 minutes later. The pairs would continue until Hester and Tedros entered last.

Hort watches Tedros take his white handkerchief from the wolf at the back of the line and stuff it in his boot.

Tedros catches Hort’s eye, golden cheeks ruddy with cold and clear blue eyes looking hopeful, even after everything. Hort snarls back at him and the prince turns away with a roll of the eyes as if Hort was the one being unreasonable.

The blond prince joins Sophie and they talk briefly, Sophie looking anxious and seeming like she wants to kiss him, but Tedros grips her hand in his and tucks the red handkerchief deep in her pocket. He grins down at her, eyes sparkling, saying a couple more words that Hort can’t make out before pulling away.

Castor yanks Sophie towards the barrier and flings her into the lattice of spiders, they click with permission and magically part, thrusting the blonde witch into the darkness of the blue forest.

In the past Hort might have been concerned for her but now all he feels is resentment.

The Ever-Never pairs keep entering every fifteen minutes until only Hester and Tedros are left. Hester offers Tedros a nasty sneer which Tedros ignores, blue eyes intent and determined.

———

Tedros feels a slight pang of disgust as hundreds of furry pincers probe his skin before finally letting him through, leaving him alone in the Forest’s torch-lit threshold. He pushes through the first line of trees, soft blue leaves brushing softly against his arms in a strict contrast to the violence sure to come.

He eases into a light jog once the foliage thins, hand pressed to the hilt of his heavy training sword.

The first challenge he comes across doesn’t give him much trouble, but the troll does snag his cloak in one gnarly hand before Tedros tears the blue fabric from his shoulders himself, knocking the troll on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword before moving on.

He comes across Tristan dueling Vex and Brone in the tulip patch and helps him defeat them but gets cut up in the process, whatever spell the Nevers had used cutting lines across his chest and tearing his tunic to shreds.

They part ways but not even a few minutes later white sparks shoot up into the air, Tristan’s surrender lighting up the night sky.

Tedros grimaces, whoever or whatever had gotten Tristan must be nearby and he didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out what it was.

The rest of the night passes much in the same fashion. The silence of the blue forest is split open by screams. Classmates fight enemies and betray friends. Various beasts rampage through prickly bushes and deadly willow trees shed their sleep-inducing leaves.

Tedros loses his sword somewhere along the way and he must have twisted his leg the wrong direction at some point because when he finally limps into a relatively quiet glen he crumples against a pine tree, sniffling softly.

The next few minutes take on the quality of a particularly potent fever dream.

Hester’s there.

Her red demon tattoo rises out of her skin and splits itself into five fractured pieces.

It attacks him.

He spots the flash of red silk in Hester’s boot.

Tedros thinks his wrist is broken as he pins the handkerchief to the ground.

Hester’s mouth opens in horror as she vanishes, eyes shocked wide.

He doesn’t see the last demon arm until it’s too late. A shield smashes it down and he’s looking up at Agatha before leaping to his feet in shock.

The pain of the betrayal rips deep into his heart, the acid of humiliation dissolving the last remnants of his clarity.

Tedros puts up a wall of anger, eyes on fire as Evers and Nevers flood the clearing.

He stalks away as soon as he can, the massive weight of heartbreak bearing down on his chest as his feelings come crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Head down he pushes through the throng of Evers waiting to congratulate him on his victory.

Their words of praise are like slaps in the face. Proof that he was a slave to his heart’s mistakes.

Tedros drops to the floor as soon as he’s inside his room in Honor Tower, back sliding down against the door, giving in to his fatigue, his despair, his shame.

He doesn’t allow himself to cry, no, he was too dignified for that. But he can’t control the shuddering breaths that tear at his chest and the trembling of his hands. He doesn’t know how much time has passed until his quiet sobs die down to sniffles.

He wipes off most of the blood and grime with a washcloth and pulls the tattered remains of his tunic from his shoulders, tugging a fresh shirt over his head, the thin fabric feeling strange on his feverish skin.

A pink rose on the windowsill catches his eye, petals soft and delicate, fluttering in the light breeze coming through the open window. The pink rose he had planned on giving Sophie after their joint victory.

Tedros rises to his feet, legs still shaky as he stumbles over to the window.

His finger glow burns bright as he glowers at the rose, hatred and desperation flaring at the sensation of fragile petals against his fingertips.

Under his touch the soft pink rots to black, darkness creeping across the flower. What was light now desolate and unforgiving.

He scribbles out the harsh words burning in his mind on a burnt slip of parchment, piercing the note on the black rose’s thorns.

Tedros storms across the halfway bridge, but his reflection at the barrier attempts to stop him.

“Good with Good,
Evil with Evil,
Back to your tower before there’s upheaval.”

“I want to hurt her,” Tedros growls, rose and parchment clutched so tightly that the thorns pierce his palms, bright red blood dripping onto the stone. “I want her to feel pain.”

His reflection looks scared for a moment, “Definitely Evil,” it says and the barrier disappears.

The shrine that he finds dedicated to Sophie makes him want to scream.

But Tedros doesn’t. He holds it in. He places the black rose next to the other offerings and hopes she finds it, hopes he’ll be able to make her feel even a tiny bit of the hurt he’s experiencing right now.

Before he knows what he’s doing he finds himself in front of Hort’s door, knuckles paused in the air before the wood paneling, heart in his throat.

What was he doing here?

———

Hort stalks towards his room in Vice Tower, blood boiling.

Sophie had been cheating.

He was coming from Malice Common Room where he had heard those exact words from Hester’s sneering mouth. Sophie had cheated her way up to the top of the Never’s ranks like the snake she was.

His boots scuff the floor as he rounds the corner, anger fresh and hot. There’s someone standing in front of his door and Hort should’ve known who it was from far away.

Crystal blue eyes stare at him from behind golden curls, muscled shoulders and lithe waist stuck in a half-turn.

Hort storms towards him, furious energy thrumming just beneath his skin.

“Did you know?” Hort manages to grit out.

“Know what?”

“Did you know Sophie was cheating.”

Now that Hort is closer he notices the red in Tedros’ eyes.

“No, of course not—“

“Liar.”

The blond prince jerks back like he’s been stung. His usually perfect hair is in disarray. Hort knows Tedros must have known. Nobody is that trusting, that exploitable.

“Hort, I—“

Hort’s lip curls into a snarl and he slams Tedros against the wall, grabbing him by the throat. “Don’t lie to me, Tedros. You knew she was cheating and yet you didn’t tell me,” The blonde prince claws at his arm, but Hort ignores his struggles, pinning him firmly against the wall. “You didn’t tell me.”

It would be so easy to crush his windpipe. With the anger he’s feeling now he could transform into a Manwolf and hear that satisfying snap. Feel those tan muscles relax and his problem just fade away.

And those blue eyes would be out of his life forever.

Hort pulls away. “You’ve betrayed me for the last time,” he says, watching Tedros’ smooth chest heave through undone shirt laces.

Tedros slides down the door, head falling back against the wood with a dull thud.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” he croaks.

Hort tenses, the change in the atmosphere like the cut of a blade, the unspoken words loud beside Tedros’ ragged breaths.

You wanted her to break my heart.

Blue eyes stare up at him from the floor, shiny and desolate.

And she did.

Tears run down Tedros’ cheeks and Hort is stuck standing above him. Not wanting to leave but too scared to move forward.

Chapter 9: Time Stops

Summary:

“I can’t think of you apart from love.”
- Marina Tsvetaeva

Notes:

Call Out My Name playlist ;)

I Hate You - Sick Puppies
Pressure - Martin Garrix (feat. Tove Lo)
Strawberries & Cigarettes - Troye Sivan
Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish
Time Stops - Starbenders
Here With You - Lost Frequencies & Netsky
Lips On You - Maroon 5
Thing Called Love - NF
Heartburn - Wafia
Call Out My Name - Seraphim

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

There’s anguish pooling in Tedros’ eyes and Hort’s skin feels too tight as his conflicted feelings towards Tedros surface like a monster from the deep.

Hort swallows, hands clenched in his black uniform.

The one thing he can be certain of is getting into his room and out of the hallway, because if the Nevers saw Tedros like this the situation would spiral out of control, their certain jeers and malicious jokes would be loud and ruthless. Hort doesn’t really know where the protective instinct is coming from.

He approaches Tedros slowly, like one would a wounded animal. Tedros’ trembling shoulders go still as his eyes lock onto Hort.

“What are you—“

Hort doesn’t give him time to finish as he loops his forearms under Tedros’ armpits and hauls him upwards. Tedros struggles for a bit before going almost totally limp against him, legs wobbly and hitched breaths ragged against Hort’s neck.

Hort kicks open the door and makes his way to his bed with Tedros still in his arms. He sits the prince down and hesitantly takes the place next to him. Hort can’t stop his hand from shaking a little in nervousness as he loops an arm around Tedros’ shoulder to pull him into his side. But the prince falls into it like waves onto the sand.

They sit for a long time in silence, Tedros’ occasional shuddered sobs breaking the silence. Hort can’t tell how much time has passed when Tedros’ breathing finally evens out. The prince seems really out of it. When their inhales and exhales match up it feels like a weight has finally been lifted off Hort’s chest.

Tedros’ body heat is bleeding through his shirt and into Hort’s bones like the warmth of a log fire. Hort subconsciously pulls the prince closer. Tedros’ head falls onto Hort’s shoulder, golden curls tickling his neck.

Tedros starts slowly sitting up and Hort lets his arm fall away.

Red-rimmed eyes observe him, the blue even more vibrant than usual. Hort meets his gaze, only slightly nervous.

Tedros bites his lip, his gaze flicks from Hort’s eyes to his mouth and back again.

Hort gulps as the air takes on a heavy, potent quality.

Tedros moves his hand to the bed for support.

Support for what?

Hort isn't sure what's happening until he feels the soft warmth of Tedros’ mouth on his.

He sucks in a breath, wanting to laugh, because this has to be a joke, this has to be part of a prank he's playing on him.

But Tedros’ eyes just flutter shut as he melts against Hort, mouth parting and hands coming up to rest on the other boy’s neck.

Hort’s eyes remain wide open in shock. Not quite believing that the prince he had decided to hate forever at the beginning of their school year was actually kissing him. Nevermind that they had become friends for a while before. Never mind that Hort sometimes couldn’t breathe around him.

What if this is all some kind of sick game? What if he responds and that's it, Tedros has his joke, and tells all his shallow, conceited Ever friends. What if none of this is real. What if everything about this is real. What if their world is ending, and this is the sign, this is how it begins, with Tedros’ mouth on his.

Hort feels the same notes of desperation and reckless abandon in his kisses that Tedros constantly carries right under his skin, waltzing through life with his deepest weaknesses only a shallow cut away.

He lets his eyes fall shut and finally kisses back, pressing his lips more insistently against Tedros’, mouths fitting together like the two swirls of yin and yang.

They break apart with simultaneous gasps. Hort still lost in the memory of the kiss.

He hears Tedros say something about needing to return to Good through the thick haze and Hort automatically nods, not really paying attention because all his focus is still on Tedros’ mouth.

Tedros should feel smug that Hort can’t tear his gaze away from his lips but the heat in his chest tells him to just act on that look in Hort’s dark brown, almost black eyes.

They come to a stop by the door. Hort is leaning on the doorframe and Tedros has one foot across the threshold.

I don’t want to go.

“Should I walk you there?” Hort asks, hands in his pockets.

Please.

“No, I’m good,” Tedros replies.

“Alright, see you later.”

“Okay.”

———

Hort is in a daze for the rest of the day, thoughts swirling around too fast for other things to break through.

Tedros kissed him. Tedros kissed him.

The few classes before their Forest Group lesson pass in alternating hazes of euphoria and flashes of anxiety. Ravan is so unnerved by Hort’s rapidly changing facial expressions that he scoots away in History and takes a seat next to Vex instead.

When it starts raining again, they’re informed that Yuba will have them learn inside Evil castle. As expected, all the Good students complain and whine the whole way over.

Except Agatha and Tedros. The dark-haired Nevergirl seems desperate to talk to Sophie and Tedros still looks exhausted from the Trial by Tale.

When Tedros steps through the door, he might have seemed nonchalant to the others but Hort’s pulse rises to dizzying heights as he watches the tired prince suddenly become alert, searching gaze rapidly scanning students in the classroom before finding Hort.

And when their eyes meet, time stops. Tedros’ blue eyes wash over him like tidal waves on a black-sand beach.

There’s a static to the air now. This was the same tension he’d felt pinning Tedros to the ground on that first day in their Forest Group.

Except this time it’s different. This time he can read Tedros’ facial expressions like bold-marked words on a page.

Tedros is staring at him like there’s no one else in the room. Sophie hadn’t come to classes that day and Hort was glad for it.

The blond prince and the other Evers gingerly take their seats at the half-rotten, black and green desks. One Evergirl even has tears in her eyes as she realizes the grimey chair had stained her pink dress with dark, distinct smudges.

Hort moves up from his seat to go to Tedros, to greet him like he so desperately wants to, but freezes from the look on Tedros’ face.

The prince gives an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Message clear in his eyes and the set of his mouth. It might not be discernible to the others, but for Hort it’s as obvious as an earthquake, a volcanic eruption, a mountainous glacier breaking away from the mainland.

Tedros didn’t want to be seen with him.

His mood plummets into an abyss and he feels like he’s been shoved into arctic waters, the cold seeps into every nerve and his heart stutters painfully.

Hort’s expression must have revealed everything because Tedros goes from nonchalance to concerned alarm in less than a heartbeat. The blonde prince looks at Hort, then something behind Hort, he pointedly looks at Hort again, and then back behind him once more.

Hort’s distress cuts to confusion as he twists around to look at the seats behind him and with that he immediately realizes why Tedros had acted the way he did.

Hester and Anadil are talking in hushed tones a couple rows behind him, likely on another one of their many schemes. Hester’s long black nails draw invisible patterns in the air that despite their obscure nature, look positively diabolical.

The dark-haired witch had made a point of searching out her opponents weaknesses earlier that year. Giving her such an obvious one would be akin to a death wish.

The relief hits him like a sunrise and he has to fight the giddy smile from breaking out on his face.

Tedros has turned back forward to the front of the classroom where Yuba has already started writing on the board; pulling out their notebooks and pens, most of the Evers and Nevers get to work copying the notes down onto paper.

Tedros can’t help sneaking glances at Hort and Hort feels oddly smug. Thankfully Yuba decides to go easy on them the day after the Trial. On top of writing less than usual on the board, he lets them out ten minutes early.

As Hort is leaving the classroom there are warm fingers pressing against his palm and the crisp feeling of paper against his own fingers before a golden head of hair disappears in the throng of other Nevers and Evers leaving for their own castle or dorm rooms.

Hort clutches the note in his hand the whole way to his own room, not trusting himself to look at it in public, not trusting the skin on his face to stay skin-toned and not go red, whatever may be written on that little slip of paper.

When the door of his room finally shuts, Hort lets out a huge sigh of relief, head falling back against the black wood with a dull thud.

“Satisfied, are we?”

Hort nearly buckles from shock at the sound of that voice.

He sees Ravan sitting at his desk on the other side of the room.

“Dammit Ravan!” Hort shouts, “Warn a guy, will you?”

Ravan stares at him. “Why’s your surprise my fault?”

Hort huffs, “I wasn’t surprised, just—“ He’s at a loss for words.

Ravan gives him that smug smile that Hort hates and stands up, stretching his long arms above his head.

“What’s got you like a cat in the sun?”

Hort rolls his eyes, already fed up with Ravans’s minor, yet boundlessly irritating antics. “Nothing much, just had an alright day. What of it?”

Ravan narrows his eyes, “You look weirdly happy. Nevers aren’t supposed to look like that.”

“What do you know? You never pay attention in class anyway.”

Ravan smirks, “My ranks are still better than yours.”

“We’ll see about that,” Hort sneers. He uncrumples the note and tries to maintain a straight expression as he looks up, “I need the room to myself this afternoon, so get lost.”

Ravan gets up and makes for the door. “For the record, I was gonna leave anyway,” he says, “So don’t get the wrong idea,”

The door slams shut behind him and Hort smiles at the closed door for a moment, immensely pleased with himself and the situation despite what Ravan said. He walks over to his own desk, whistling as he goes, pulling out his History textbook from the top drawer and getting some blank sheets of parchment and pens from his bag.

Hort,
Coming over to study at 4
-T

It’s short, but sweet. And the presumption that Hort would say yes might feel too cocky for most but for Hort it’s immensely endearing, a sign of trust.

The fact that they’ve come this far in the span of a day should shock Hort but he has the suspicion that they’ve been building up to this for much longer.

There’s a brisk knock and Hort practically falls out of his chair in his haste to open the door.

Tedros is standing on the other side like an angel sent from heaven and Hort is mildly embarrassed about how poetic he’s feeling.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.”

Hort, suddenly nervous, rubs the back of his neck. “Come on in.”

“Yeah. Um, right.” Tedros steps in; books, parchment and pens under his arm. He points correctly at Hort’s bed and the Neverboy nods. Tedros drops his stuff and flops down onto his stomach.

Hort is frozen.

Tedros is in the process of retrieving his pens when he notices Hort hasn’t moved. The Everboy looks at him quizzically. “Well? What are you waiting for?” He pats the space next to him.

Hort takes a moment but eventually snaps out of his reverie and collects his things before dropping down onto the bed next to Tedros, books spread out in front of him.

Every length of them that touches feels too hot.

Tedros gets to work almost immediately, seemingly content with just being side by side with Hort.

And Hort really tries to get that History assignment done, he really does. But despite his best efforts he finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his paper when his room is so intimate and quiet and Tedros is so close to him, with his striking profile and curly hair, the slope of his nose flushed a permanent pink from all the time he spends in the sun, eyebrows creased in concentration as he reads his Good Deeds textbook to himself.

Hort gets over his nerves and tells himself it’s just to help him focus. He means to steal just a kiss and then go back to his essay but Tedros curls his fingers in the dark hair at the nape of his neck and opens his lips, warm and inviting.

God he was good at this. The softest touch of his lips has Hort all hot and bothered.

Tedros tugs at his shirt and pushes. Before he knows it Hort is there on his back with Tedros straddling him and smiling, all too pleased with himself, Good Deeds homework all but forgotten.

The afternoon golden light, which filters in through Hort’s open window, illuminates the room. It creates a sort of glow around Tedros, making him look like a god of old, a heavenly apparition.

Like that first day in the Theater of Tales. Except now it’s more intimate, the light for Hort’s eyes only.

Tedros is staring at him like Hort’s the first flame flickering in absolute darkness, the first sign of life in a desert, a glittering gemstone in the black ashes of a volcanic eruption.

It makes Hort positively giddy, an emotion he never would have thought to associate with himself. An emotion supposedly completely foreign to all Evil students.

Hort wants to drown in Tedros’ eyes, let the deep blue pull him in until only his fingertips are above water, then drag him down completely, the surface of his oceans motionless like nothing happened, like nobody was ever there.

And that might happen, but Hort finds himself okay with it. As long as he gets to feel like this now, as long as he has Tedros, nothing could ever hurt him again.

Notes:

Happy Times, Woohoo!

Check out my insta (under the same username) for moodboards and updates!

Chapter 10: Needy

Summary:

“I am too young and I’ve loved you too much.”
- Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It’s the first sunny day in what seems like forever and Tedros and the rest of the Everboys take full advantage of it with multiple games of rugby, constantly switching up the teams and running harder and harder plays.

Tedros is ecstatic that they can finally play without the weather turning cold or rainy. It was truly a rarity for this late in the fall.

And the only reason Tedros stops is because he physically can't anymore. He leans on Chaddick briefly, reaching down to his ankle.

“Are you alright?” Chaddick asks, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, just—can you?” He wobbles, and Chaddick is there instantly, snaking a hand around his waist to keep him upright. “Fuck. I think I twisted around too fast for that last catch.”

“Need some bandages or ice?”

“No, no, I’ve got to get to Yuba’s lecture.” He mumbles, patting Chaddick’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

When Chaddick shifts out of the way, Tedros skims across the scattered lines of Nevers on the other side of the clearing.

He spies Hort — and he has never, ever seen a look like that on his face.

Hort is downright fuming, furious eyes following Chaddick as the burly Everboy walks away from him.

Something about that makes his stomach start doing somersaults, and his face feels all hot.

From across the clearing something dark and ugly rears in Hort’s heart, telling him that Tedros was his.

Hort startles at himself. That’s a weird thought.

He keeps telling himself that Tedros and Chaddick are just friends and that there was absolutely no reason to feel possessive.

They were friends, almost brothers in their closeness.

Yeah! Exactly like brothers, Hort reassures himself again and again, putting his jealousy away into a little box that he would hopefully never open again, closing the lid tight.

That little metaphor doesn’t stop him from wanting to get Tedros alone as soon as possible.

He tells him as much in Forest Group, leaning over to whisper in his ear when nobody’s looking. The tips of Tedros’ ears burn bright red as he nods.

Hort allows himself a satisfied smirk, immensely pleased with his improving flirting skills. Although, it might have just been Tedros’ susceptibility to turning a variety of shades from pink all the way to scarlet.

Yuba’s class is relatively boring that day and Sophie still doesn’t show up. Her absence only brings Hort relief. And he can tell that Tedros is taking everything better without her there.

The light rustling of wind in the trees makes for pleasant atmosphere during class, the remaining leaves of fall and the breeze almost creating a sort of soft melody.

When class is over, Hort attempts to walk leisurely to the Evil classroom that he mentioned to Tedros, that leisurely walk unfortunately turning into more of a run as his heart rate picks up.

Hort winces when out of the corner of his eye he sees Tedros get mobbed by a group of Evergirls, the prince’s perturbance clear across the clearing.

Hort arrives first and all in all he’s not really surprised after seeing the group of Evers with Tedros. He’s waiting in the empty classroom for only a few minutes before there’s a shadow under the crack of the door, the unsure scuff of leather boots on the stone floor all the signal Hort needs.

As soon as Tedros opens the door Hort is on him. He grabs Tedros flush against him, walking him into the room, closing the door behind him as he pulls the blonde into a fierce kiss. Tedros gasps and sinks into it, letting Hort spin them around and push him against the door.

Tedros’ skin is soft over his hard muscles. Hort likes the juxtaposition.

“What’s up with you?” Tedros manages.

Hort cuts him off with his lips, hands coming up to cradle the sides of his face. His grip is firm and possessive. Tedros gasps into the kiss, insides melting and lips instantly parting.

Hort kisses just like Tedros thought Nevers would and exactly how Tedros likes: commandingly, fervently, and thoroughly.

He walks them back until Hort is pressed against a desk, the Never jumps back on it, pulling Tedros in between his knees.

Tedros goes pliant as Hort licks into his mouth, tugging him closer until the prince is scrambling onto the desk and into his lap, hands braced on his chest, legs straddling Hort’s thighs.

The kiss is wet and urgent- filled with muffled gasps and little whimpers that spill from Tedros’ lips despite his best efforts. Hort keeps one hand framing his face and at his cheekbone, while the other slides down his neck and his side to sneak up his shirt.

His palm is big and warm on Tedros’ torso, hand gripping Tedros’ slender waist. Tedros is panting softly, his eyes darting back and forth from Hort’s lips to his eyes, fluttering long lashes as he blinks.

“Sorry I’m late,” he breathes, “Had to take a detour. The rest of the Evers have been on my back since the Trial.”

Hort just hums, pulling Tedros flush against him. “It’s alright, any time is a good time.”

Tedros smiles. “What’s got you so mushy?”

“Would it be even mushier if I said you?”

Tedros looks down at his hands, still tangled in the front of Hort’s uniform, almost bashful, “No.”

This time it’s Hort’s turn to smile, “Okay.”

Tedros stares coyly down at him from his perch in Hort’s lap and Hort can’t bring himself to believe that he ever hated the guy.

“You know,” Tedros says with a light laugh, “We should probably lock the door next time we’re in here.”

As if summoned, as if the devil were a knock at the door and Tedros had just mentioned it’s name, there are three short raps on the wooden door behind them before said door is swinging open and Tedros and Hort’s eyes are going wide in shock.

Luckily the door is slow in opening, the heavy wood hindering a fast entrance to whoever is on the other side.

Tedros nearly falls off Hort’s lap in his haste to get off, scrambling towards somewhere he can hide. Since they’re in one of the currently unoccupied classrooms in Evil, Tedros’ presence would certainly be more suspicious than Hort’s.

Tedros barely makes it behind the door before it is fully open and Ravan is marching in, Vex and Brone right behind him.

They stop in their tracks when they see Hort sitting on a desk, noticeably disheveled and attempting to act nonchalant.

Hort’s dark hair is sticking up in every direction and his shirt is wrinkled. From anybody else, this would have caused righteous suspicion. Instead, Ravan, Brone and Vex are frozen, before starting to laugh loudly and raucously, utter scorn and delight clear in their features.

“Would you look at his face?” Vex wheezes.

“Looks like he just ran a marathon!”

Brone guffaws, “A marathon inside!”

They continue laughing for what Hort thinks is way too long, Ravan holding his stomach and Vex and Brone slapping their knees because the situation was apparently hilarious.

“Don’t see what’s so funny,” Hort grumbles.

The three other Nevers have walked far enough into the room that Tedros is quietly slipping out behind them and rounding the corner, which Hort catches out of the corner of his eye.

The laughter dies down and Ravan is wiping the last tears from his eyes. “What were you doing?” he asks as he ruffles Hort’s hair with one hand before Hort is pushing the offending limb off with a scowl.

A strange look passes across Ravan’s face after, akin to slight confusion and then sudden, dawning realization. But that expression passes as quickly as it comes, his regular sneer back in place.

“Nothing,” Hort says, glaring. But when he realizes that was definitely the least believable thing he could possibly say, he thinks again quickly and blurts, “Trying to turn into a Manwolf.”

The look in Ravan’s eyes would have scared Hort if they weren’t friends.

“If you say so.”

Hort crosses and uncrosses his arms. “Well,” he lets out a long-suffering sigh, “I guess I’ll go.”

Vex and Brone are still snickering as they watch Hort leave. But Ravan is silent, the hints of a conniving smile at the corners of his mouth.

———

The next day Hort and Tedros are coincidentally the first ones at lunch, no other students in sight, the brisk noon air giving a slight chill to the cold autumn day.

That means they could talk without worrying about others.

“So, what are you doing later?” Tedros asks, in what Hort thinks is a casual tone before he sees the prince’s face, flirty smirk and lowered eyes making his mouth suddenly go dry.

“Not much, just working on homework.” Hort feels like he’s choking on nothing. This shouldn’t be so difficult. He can stick his tongue in Tedros’ mouth but he can’t form a coherent sentence around him in public.

“We could study together again, if you want,” Tedros says, running a hand through his blonde hair.

Right. Study.

And in hindsight, Hort should’ve known they wouldn’t study. After all, Tedros was too tenacious for his own good. Once there was something he wanted, he’d pursue it until it was his.

And currently?

Hort was the object of his determination and subsequent affections.

They had started out the way they always do, innocently enough, lying side by side with textbooks, parchment and pens laid out in front of them.

Then Tedros had obviously felt a need to run the fingers of his left hand through the back of Hort’s hair, resting his elbow in the dip between Hort’s shoulder blades.

And that just wouldn’t do.

Hort rolls onto his side to get the offending, the distracting arm off. But Tedros just rolls with him, ever-present smirk clear in the curve of his mouth and the lowering of his crystal-blue eyes, dark in the half-shadow.

Hort thinks, well, fuck it, and grips Tedros hard right above the hip to tug him closer.

Tedros squeaks in surprise and then slaps a hand over his mouth in horror.

Now it’s Hort’s turn to smirk. “Did that tickle the little princess?”

Tedros snarls, lion making a reappearance. He shoves Hort onto his back, hands clamped around the Never’s wrists, pushing them into the mattress.

“Shut up.”

Even angry Tedros is too pretty.

“Make me,” Hort replies with a lazy smile.

And of course, no homework gets done that afternoon. Hort has to rush through all of it before class the next morning.

———

It’s a strange time to walk out to lunch late, so all the Evers and Nevers are already seated at their tables and their entrance is apparent enough for plenty of odd looks to linger over the unlikely pair.

“They’re staring.”

“They’d stop if you backed up,” Tedros hisses out of the corner of his mouth, still embarrassed about what happened the day before. The embarrassing squeak he had made still fresh in his mind, echoing like a taunt.

Hort slows a few paces and veers off towards the other Evil students. He shoots one last glance at Tedros and finds blue eyes already on him. Then they’re gone before he can blink, drawn away by his friends at the far tables over on the Good side.

Really it was Tedros’ fault they walked out so late.

After morning classes. Pressed up against each other in the dark alcove of a hallway. Soft heated skin, a stark contrast to the cold stone of the wall against Hort’s back. Full lips, luminous blue eyes, desperate hands.

Tedros had been making trips over to Evil, to Hort, more and more frequently. Like Hort was some sort of drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Hort feared it would start garnering attention. And despite his legendary ability to get most things wrong, he was right this time.

Tedros drops down between Chaddick and Reena at their lunch table, digging into the chicken and peas in front of him.

He doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation besides greeting Chaddick, Nicholas and Reena, not mustering enough energy for Beatrix’s bubbly attitude.

Somebody says something and there’s laughter all around, Tedros catches looks thrown his way and picks his head up to listen.

“Yeah, maybe Hort and Tedros really are together.”

Tedros hears this and stiffens, ice sliding through his veins, because the comment falls into a lull of sound that turns into a deathly silence. The chirp of a cricket somewhere signals just about everyone’s attention flipping from what they were doing to what Tedros and Hort are rumoured to be doing.

The attention comes from even the groups at tables around them. Tedros wishes for a moment that he could just turn invisible and disappear, to no longer be at the table to endure this immense discomfort.

All eyes swivel to him and Tedros thinks he might actually be feeling fainthearted for the first time in his life.

Beatrix rolls her eyes, “Oh, come on. There’s obviously another explanation. Right, Teddy?”

Tedros scrambles for an excuse.

What would be believable. Working out? No, he did that with Chaddick. Preparations for the Circus of Talents? No, he already told Reena what his talent was. Another new hobby?

He must be taking too long because Chaddick tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

He seems hesitant when he asks, “Is it Hort?”

Complete and utter silence at the Ever lunch tables. For once the Nevers are louder.

“It’s Hort,” Tedros mutters into his lap. He can’t muster the courage to say it louder.

“What?”

Tedros doesn’t lift his face up. He mumbles again, “It’s Hort.” Tedros wants to disappear. Take the words back. His face flames and he can’t look at the rest of the Evers.

“What?” Chaddick repeats.

God. Can’t they let him have his dignity for once? His privacy? “I’ve been with Hort,” he groans, trying to keep his voice level. His heart hammers in his chest. This shouldn’t be this embarrassing.

Tristan’s mouth falls open.

“I did see them walking together a few days ago,” Reena chimes in.

This time it’s Beatrix’s mouth that falls open, “And you didn’t care to mention it?”

Reena shrugs, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Of course it matters!” Beatrix practically screeches.

Chaddick winces and rubs at his own ears.

All the Evers start chattering at once, their statements ranging from sweet to downright filthy.

Tedros decides he’s had enough and gets up from the bench, appetite lost. The movement has everybody’s attention once again.

Tedros knows his face is scarlet. He doesn’t say anything as he walks away, tight-lipped as he enters the Tunnel of Trees, heading towards the Good common room.

Maybe he could clear his head if he was alone.

Meanwhile at the Never tables Hort watches Tedros storm away. He doesn’t pay it much mind, despite the nagging feeling at the back of his head. Evers could get annoying, he was sure that was it.

In the Never common room later Hort is more or less untroubled as he gets a few minutes of relaxation on one of the semi-comfortable couches.

He hears his name suddenly and looks up, some strands of his dark hair falling in his face. He blows them back with a lazy puff.

“I haven’t seen you around as often lately,” Brone ponders, “You hatching some sort of plan?”

“Oh, please,” Ravan scoffs, “Hort wouldn’t know an evil plan if it crawled up his pants.”

Hort scowls, throwing Ravan the middle finger, “I’ve been busy.”

But he can’t stop the red from rising to his face as he thinks about what “busy” actually meant; silky golden hair, warm fingers and soft lips. He almost sighs.

Vex sees it and sniggers, pointing a mocking finger at Hort’s chest “Finally got a friend, huh?”

“Uh, not—“

“Oh, yeah,” Ravan says calmly, “That ‘friend’ would actually be the one and only Prince Tedros over at Good.”

Ravan’s statement comes down like the axe of an executioner on the neck of a criminal.

The common room goes dead silent.

Hester, Anadil and Dot’s heads all snap up simultaneously, their attention to the topic unmistakeable, Hester’s dark eyes flashing.

“No, that’s ridiculous!” Hort tries for a laugh but it comes out horribly strained.

“You were with him that day in the classroom,” Ravan counters.

Hort gulps. “I was practicing my talent.”

“You reeked of mint and something else disgustingly sweet,”

“Vanilla,” Hort says absentmindedly.

His brown eyes immediately widen in horror. “You—“

Ravan’s grin looks positively malicious. “Gonna deny it again?”

Hort is frozen in place, completely shocked at the turn of events, before glaring down at his boots, “No.”

Ravan hums in satisfaction before patting Hort on the back. “Well, I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

Hort frowns, decidedly not glad.

He was going to have to tell Tedros that the Nevers knew. Tedros who had so much faith in him, Tedros who would be disappointed in his failure to keep a measly secret.

Shit.

He doesn’t get a chance to think more on it when the door to the common room slams open, the draft blowing the dark curtains wildly across the window panes. Only scattered light falls onto the figure in the doorway, but Hort knows in an instant who it is.

Dark hair gleams, spiked and slicked, black as smeared eye sockets and lips. Ghost-white skin glows against black nail polish, black cape, black leather.

Sophie steps into the room, high black boots stabbing the floor, expression cold and wicked.

Notes:

Did anybody catch the foreshadowing in the summary?

Yes?

*evil wheeze of laughter*

Chapter 11: Fools

Summary:

But everything is shattering and it’s my mistake.

Only fools fall for you, only fools.

Notes:

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out, than it would have been, if it had never shone.”
- John Steinbeck

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

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.

Notes:

Oh no, what have I done :)

Chapter 12: They were gone

Summary:

Tedros deals with the aftermath of his decision. Hort grows closer to someone he probably shouldn’t. Agatha realizes she’s a princess. Sophie falls into the dark. Somehow they make it out alive.

Notes:

Hello. It’s me. The person who’s been living in a dumpster of their own shame after not updating for weeks. Today I offer you: a trashcan full of my feelings

This chapter was like my Mount Everest.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The voice in the back of his head is growing louder and more frantic with each step Tedros takes away from Evil castle. It’s begging him to turn back, to plead for forgiveness, to take back all the things he said.

But Tedros keeps walking away, following the monotonous drag of his feet across the grass and into Good castle, down the hallways and into his room.

You did the right thing, he continues telling himself. It's for the best

It doesn’t matter that you had something and you threw it away. Doesn’t matter that this something filled up your days and your nights.

All he had left was an empty space.

A cold, dark, empty space that has Tedros suddenly choking, no sound escaping his throat as he falls onto his bed, curling up on it, only ragged gasps and the replay of unforgiving memories in his head.

This wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

After an indeterminate amount of time he heaves himself into a sitting position, hands braced on his knees. There’s a pressure in his chest and a weight in his stomach that makes him feel like throwing up.

Maybe he made a mistake.

The door to the dorm room slams open and Chaddick stumbles through, grin wide on his face. It falters when they lock eyes.

Chaddick pauses after entering, head cocked to the side, hand still resting on the doorknob after he closes the door. “Are you okay?”

The heaviness in the room is palpable. Chaddick stands in front of the door, hand falling from the doorknob.

Tedros plasters a smile on his face, “I’m fine, all good!”

Chaddick looks at him with thinly-veiled concern, doubt obvious in his expression.

Tedros tries to look earnest. “Really,” he says, praying to whatever deity up there that his smile isn’t as strained as it feels, “Everything’s fine.”

Chaddicks frowns a little but puts his hands up in concession. “We can talk whenever.”

Tedros nods, turning his back, not able to make eye contact anymore, the wall beside his bed blank and dark, the only thing he can focus on right now.

“It’s pretty late,” Chaddick says.

“Yeah.”

“We should...probably.”

“Yeah.”

Chaddick flicks the lights off and they’re immersed into semi-darkness. Tedros tries to steady his breathing. And after a while he does, miraculously, drifting asleep after kicking off his blankets, their too-heavy weight suffocating with the feeling of thick cotton in his head and an ache in his ribs.

Like he’s sick. Like he needs medication.

The next morning he feels exhausted. But he brushes it off like he does most things. Focusing on the small steps he has to take. He’s fine.

He and the Everboys make it to class without incident. Chaddick shoots him a couple looks that he ignores. The sound of their boots on the glass floor seems louder than usual. It gives him a migraine.

They’re in class for barely ten minutes and Tedros already wants to leave, to go back to his room and just sleep forever. His muscles don’t work the way he wants them to and his skin hurts and prickles.

Miraculously, he does get through morning classes and they’re all heading to lunch as a group when Tedros stops suddenly in the middle of the Tunnel of Trees, the urge to skip lunch like an insistent, aching pulse in his temples.

He can’t go.

He sees Chaddick brush off Nicholas and the rest of their group, telling them to go ahead.

The burly Everboy stops a respectable distance away, hands in his pockets. “What’s up?”

Tedros tries for a nonchalant shrug. “I think I’ll head back, not really that hungry,” he says, looking down at the grass beneath his feet. He scuffs his boots into the ground, mud now streaking the sides.

“Not hungry?” Chaddick asks, incredulously.

“Yeah, you go without me.”

Chaddick’s mouth twists into a displeased frown. “You always eat.”

He’s suddenly irritated.

“Well, right now I don’t feel like it,” Tedros snaps, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. He needs to get away before he breaks.

Chaddick looks like he wants to say something but Tedros turns away before the other boy can and tries to keep his shoulders straight as he walks back to Good. He can feels Chaddick’s eyes on his back like a hot brand.

Chaddick didn’t need to worry, he was fine. Completely fine. The cold air feels icy in his lungs and there’s a lump in his throat that really strives to contradict him.

Tedros’ eyes start swimming with tears and the second he turns the corner his shoulders slump over and he’s shaking, tears spilling over and running over his cheeks.

He wipes furiously at his eyes. He can’t let anyone see him like this. Like he can’t handle it. Like he’s broken. Feeling this now is better than getting hurt more later.

———

For Hort, the following three or four days pass at a sluggish, muggy pace. The days seem to defy time and blur together in an incohesive cycle of going to class, working out, food, shower, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

If Hort didn’t know better he would have thought himself the victim of one of those time loop spells. The poor guy, trapped inside the very same day over and over until he figures out how to break free and bring the tale to an end.

Except Hort knows exactly what the missing piece to his puzzle is.

He can’t get rid of his eyebags from nauseous nights spent awake.

Everything was covered in a thin gray film. The blue forest didn’t seem so vibrant anymore. Good castle didn’t shine the way it used to. The grass under his shoes looked more yellow-brown than the usual, brilliant green.

When there’s a break in the fog, a warm, orange, glowing something in his peripheral vision, Hort refuses to look. Everything about that light was deceitful, Hort wouldn’t fall for it again.

He knew that if he looked, the relief would be short. It would be followed by a feeling much like getting a rusted knife in the chest. All his feelings would come gushing out like rich, wet blood.

That’s why, when Sophie comes up to Hort during Curses and Death Traps with Lady Lesso and asks him to meet her later, he agrees.

“You like me,” she says when they’re alone, the black walls of Vice tower a stark backdrop against her white-blond hair and pale skin, green eyes like sharp, deadly gems.

Hort draws in a deep breath, but before he can speak, she continues.

“I think it would be mutually beneficial if we explored that.”

Sophie’s emerald eyes glint and her ruby lips curl into a sultry pout. She has both hands on her hips, accentuating her tiny waist, surely the result of a too-tight corset.

In that moment, Hort is able to find a million reasons to say no, all of them beginning with a name Hort has sworn he would never think about again. But those reasons all vanish when his pain rears its ugly head, hissing and spitting from a toxic potion of awful feelings.

———

It’s not like Tedros had meant to eavesdrop on them. He hadn’t. But they’d started talking around the corner and he hadn’t known it was them at first. It’s not like he’d wanted to overhear it. But he had.

He really wishes he hadn’t.

It takes a second for Tedros to realize what they’re talking about but when he does he freezes. His stomach drops, coiling tighter and tighter after each overheard word.

“Maybe it’s better that it’s over because there was someone else all along.” Sophie.

There’s a frustrated huff that’s distinctly Hort.

And in a split second Tedros knows exactly what they’re talking about. An ugly, sick feeling starts rising in his chest.

It isn’t even an effort to stay quiet because his shock and thoughts of please god no not this has rendered him mute.

At the sound of the rustling of clothing and Sophie’s answering giggle, Tedros’ lungs catch and feel like they’re caving in.

But it doesn’t make sense because Tedros knows that he had been the one to end things. Why was the thought of them together so sickening? Why did his heart feel like it was breaking again?

Tedros had no right.

He falls against the wall behind him and fights to keep himself on his feet. There are more sounds now that he can’t make out with the blood rushing to his head. He pushes off the stone in a daze, now sure that he has to get away because he can’t listen to it anymore.

Turns out, there’s no escaping Hort and Sophie’s relationship because they’re flaunting it the very next day. And the day after that. Two weeks pass and the Circus of Talents is right around the corner, Sophie still glued to Hort’s side, shooting Tedros self-satisfied looks everytime she catches him staring.

Tedros keeps telling himself he doesn’t care.

———

They’re back again where she first asked him and Hort has her pressed against the wall, the black silk of her slip dress slimey under his fingertips. He’s not ever rough with her, all his touches light and noncommittal.

He doesn’t feel the need to be wild. She doesn’t make him furious, he doesn’t feel the need to assert his dominance. The chemistry between them seems tepid and lukewarm, clinical. It doesn’t set his blood on fire or make that space between his heart and ribcage burn.

Hort kisses Sophie harder but it still doesn’t feel right. He pushes her away with a snarl.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, annoyed. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows are furrowed delicately across her forehead. Even irritated, she’s perfectly put together. He hates it.

“Nothing.”

Sophie rolls her eyes, “Obviously it’s something.”

Hort’s fists clench at his sides. He’s already at the end of his rope with her, there’s black at the edge of his vision, like an annoying vignette.

“I have something to do,” he says, turning around and walking around the corner without further explanation.

He hears her sputter indignantly behind him but Hort ignores her. Already rounding the larger curve of Evil castle, he wants to get to the lesson with Yuba so he’ll be first and not have anybody watch him walk over. If he gets there first, he can ignore anybody who arrives after.

He has more pressing concerns when he runs smack into a warm body. He grabs them by the shoulders on instinct. His fingers are gripping hard lines of tight muscles and it only takes a ragged inhale to discover who he’s holding.

“Out of my way.” Hort shoves Tedros hard enough that the prince falls to the ground.

What was Tedros even doing here?

Tedros doesn’t get up, hands digging into the dirt under him, the knees of his white breeches dirty from the dirt and wet grass.

“Why,” the prince manages, the supposed question more like a statement.

Hort swivels around, already enraged. He has to stick with anger. Anger is easy, it gives him power.

“Why what?” he growls.

“Why would you—“ Tedros whispers, dewy eyes lifting towards Hort, “With her?”

Hort realizes immediately what and who Tedros is talking about, he hardens his gaze, dark eyes flashing.

“You had her. Why can’t I?” he spits.

Tedros shudders, the knots in his stomach felt like they’d been granted life and were trying to crawl up his throat, choking his breathing. “But—“

“But nothing.” Hort growls, “You ended things, not me. I’m just moving on,” he adds for good measure, injecting his words with as much venom as he can, his despair and hopelessness from the past week turning into raw, potent rage.

Tedros’ glassy doe eyes stare up at him from the ground, reminiscent of the day Hort had comforted him after the events of the Trial by Tale.

Hort’s resolve almost cracks, almost.

He stalks away, long, black strands of hair that he should have cut weeks ago falling into his face. Hort shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders as he walks towards the Blue Forest, foul mood swirling around him like a dark cloud.

Forest Group is as terrible as ever. Hort isn’t even paying attention at this point. The Circus is only two weeks away and Hort has risen enough in the rankings to participate. With the way his life was going right now, it would be no problem summoning enough emotion to turn into a manwolf and blow everyone away.

Sophie grows more and more reclusive as the Circus of Talents nears, spending more and more time by herself, her face looking more and more gaunt everytime he sees her. She’s starting to look like a real witch, blonde hair severe and skin the color of bone.

Tedros has stopped staring after them and Hort notices the change in Sophie’s attitude immediately. Her emerald eyes turn cold and hard, her lips turn white from how hard she’s pressing them together.

Sophie wanted something from Tedros, and she wasn’t getting it. Hort wondered how that would come out to play when they’d have to show their talents.

And then Sophie stops showing up to classes and in those first few days Hort sees it take an obvious toll on Agatha, the raven-haired girl’s face stuck perpetually pale and worried.

Hort’s not the most observant type but something does start changing in Agatha a couple days after Sophie stops showing up. It’s like her insecurity vanishes with the blonde witch. The Evergirl starts looking less glum and more cheerful. She even starts eating with the rest of the princes and princesses.

Hort is only looking over at the Good lunch tables because he’s curious about Agatha. It has nothing to do with the fact that he could see Tedros next to her.

And that leads to another strange development in the shifting dynamics at school: Agatha and Tedros’ new friendship. They didn’t seem as hostile towards each other anymore. One day Hort even sees Agatha laugh at some dumb thing Tedros says.

A toxic mix of jealousy and anger crawls up his throat and Hort has to squeeze his eyes shut for a full minute before he can resume eating. Ravan shoots him a look, one eyebrow raised in question. Hort waves it off, preferring to stew alone in his own misery.

The Circus arrives in the blink of an eye. When it’s his turn, it’s almost too easy.

Hort doesn’t even have to strain for more than a few seconds before he’s ripping out of his clothes and into the hulking body of a manwolf. His roar reverberates through the eaves of the theater, the walls echoing with the sound of it.

Everybody slams against their seats in shock.

His vision is tinged red and he can’t distinguish Evers and Nevers through the crimson haze anymore, but there’s one body on the side of the Evers that shines through the red.

Hort can pick him out from the hundreds of other Good students. He can’t make out any facial expression but the nervous strain in Tedros’ muscles is clear in the nearly inconspicuous vibrations of his tensed shoulders.

He lets the whole theater get a good look at his manwolf before he decides it’s enough, not keen on pushing his yet unknown time limit, and disappears behind the curtains to detransform and pull his Never uniform back on.

Hort is confident that he won until Beatrix flounces onstage in a peach prairie dress, clutching a familiar white rabbit. She sings a song so disgustingly catchy and sweet that it has all the Evers singing along.

He’s punished with porcupine needles.

Hort yanks them out with a harsh hand, grunting at each tug of skin. He makes the mistake of looking up. Tedros’ blue eyes are on him, like that first day in the Theater, pained and open and honest.

Hort breaks the already fragile eye contact with a scowl.

Hester slumps to the stage and her demon only manages a sooty firebolt before fading into her neck. She coughs painfully, clutching her heart, as if the poor effort had already drained her completely dry.

She stumbles towards the steps leading to the theater floor but in her weak state she tips over the edge of the stage before she can reach them. Anadil dives, barely managing to catch her.

Agatha rises from her seat for her turn, but before she can even take to the stage, the doors at the west end slam open and without preamble a lone, cloaked figure sweeps in, black mist curling around their feet.

All the students seem to be frozen stiff at the surprise intrusion but Tedros is on his feet in an instant, drawing Excalibur out of its sheath and pointing it at the newcomer.

A thin, pale hand with long, deadly-sharp nails draws the hood back and the whole theater gasps in shock. Sophie stares back at them, emerald eyes glinting from black smeared sockets, high cheekbones even more prominent next to sunken cheeks.

Those same green eyes find her former best friend almost immediately, and promptly widen in shock. Hort doesn’t blame her. He’d been surprised too, just like all the rest when Agatha had walked into the Theater with her new hair and ballgown, looking like a real, authentic, princess.

Sophie takes a step forward and Tedros is moving in an instant, sword leveled at the blonde witch. Sophie falters, her snarl twisting into a smile that looks more manic than anything else.

“Look at the hot new couple,” she sneers, hands curled into claws at her sides, lifting her chin to look down her nose at them.

She looks crazy, Hort realizes suddenly.

“We’re friends,” Tedros growls, moving further in front of Agatha.

Sophie lets out a hysterical laugh, “When did that happen?”

Tedros ignores her question. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m the top representative for Evil,” Sophie smiles venomously, “I’ve come to play.”

Tedros’ eyes widen in realization but he still seems reluctant to just simply let Sophie perform her talent, holding his position. Agatha looks even more worried behind him as she watches Sophie’s rapidly deteriorating smile. Agatha steps forward to try and pass Tedros, but he shoots out a protective arm like a shield.

They have a silent conversation with their eyes that Sophie watches like a hawk, blood red lips flattening into a slash across her face, a bleeding cut of bad intentions.

Tedros reluctantly lets Agatha pass after their exchange, sheathing his sword but keeping his hand on the hilt.

Agatha nears her former best friend with hesitant footfalls, midnight blue dress swishing around her legs.

“Sophie—“

“Don’t Sophie me, you backstabbing roach!”

Sophie’s staring daggers at Agatha but the raven-haired princess isn’t backing down.

“We can work this out, I don’t know why—“ Agatha tries, reaching for the blonde witch, hope still present in her brown eyes. Something about her pose hits hard with Hort.

“I do,” Sophie interrupts again. “You have friends, so now you want to stay. Isn’t that right?”

Agatha stops, outstretched hand frozen between them. It drops to her side, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of her plush skirt. “I want what’s best for you.”

Sophie lets out a high shriek that breaks into a mad cackle. The grating sound stops as quickly as it starts. Sophie tilts her head to the side and says, “How do you know what’s best for me?”

“Because I’m your friend!”

“You can’t call yourself that!”

“I can.”

“You’re not my friend,” Sophie hisses.

Agatha is inching closer and closer to Sophie, taking half-steps that the blonde doesn’t even notice. “Sophie, I’ll always be on your side, you just have to trust me.”

Sophie recoils at those words. “As if I could trust you!”

Agatha’s voice is soft now, comforting. She must have learned a lot at the School for Good. The princess is now close enough to touch the witch.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

Sophie pales at the admission, seemingly shocked still at such a sincere confession. The two girls are close enough now that Agatha is looking down at Sophie, the difference in their height more apparent now that they’re standing facing each other, Sophie in inky black and Agatha in deep, glimmering blue.

They’re stuck that way for what feels like countless minutes, Sophie searching for hidden plots in Agatha’s eyes and Agatha honestly staring back.

As soon as Sophie’s hand starts rising to meet Agatha’s, like a switch had been flipped, there’s a loud and ominous crack above them like a reaction to the two girl’s closeness and everybody’s heads snap up to see darkness suddenly creeping along the edges of the theater ceiling and more seeping in through the jagged gaps in the walls.

They observe quickly that the more there is of the stuff, the faster it moves, speed increasing exponentially.

Chaos ensues.

Hort doesn’t know what’s happening, what’s up or what’s down. All he knows is that there’s a creepy, old, white-haired man with a silver mask and ice-blue eyes slinking his way towards a dazed Sophie and Agatha. There’s screaming all around him and everything’s covered in that bodiless, murky, black mist.

As soon as he regains more of his senses he’s automatically looking for Tedros, hating himself for it all the while when he starts breathing easier after finding that distinctive head of golden hair.

But suddenly Tedros is moving and Hort feels his feet move after him without his permission, like he and Tedros are connected by a thick, red string and the prince is tugging him along behind himself.

The School Master, Hort now realizes, has leveled a bow at the two reader girls and is notching a silver tipped arrow, gaze cold and evil. Agatha and Sophie are frozen in shock, clutching each other in fear. Gone is the fearless Princess, gone is the powerful Witch of Woods Beyond.

Time slows.

Hort knows what Tedros will do before the arrow starts flying. He takes a running leap and crashes into Tedros’ already moving body, tackling him to the ground and feeling the whiz of the arrow graze his arm.

He wasn’t ever going to let Tedros sacrifice himself, no matter the suffering he’d caused Hort.

There’s a shocked gasp of pain from behind them and thought dazed, Tedros is already scrambling to try and help, but all he succeeds in doing is struggle in Hort’s arms, the Neverboy’s grip tight as ever even when he sees Agatha clutching her stomach, eyes wide open, an arrow buried in her abdomen. There’s red spreading around her hands and seeping through her fingers.

Sophie’s whole attitude seems to have changed in the span of a few seconds because she’s holding her friend close and gaping in terror at the approaching School Master.

Hort doesn’t know what to do other than keep Tedros pinned underneath him, his urge to protect unshakeable despite the heartbreak scratching at the closed doors of his mind. Hort couldn’t face the School Master and neither could Tedros.

Agatha is taking weak, ragged breaths with Sophie crying above her. The School Master standing beside them like the grim reaper.

Agatha reaches up a surprisingly steady hand to drag Sophie’s head to her barely parted mouth. It looks like she’s whispering something into her best friend’s ear and Hort watches Sophie’s expression flick between a multitude of emotions in the span of a few seconds before flattening into an impassive one.

“I’ll never forgive you,” Sophie says to Agatha, loud enough for the School Master to hear, cold and cruel. There’s something off in Sophie’s expression but the creep doesn’t seem to notice. Either she’s an excellent actress or Agatha had severely misjudged her.

Sophie turns away from Agatha and looks up at the silver-masked School Master, rising to her feet and approaching him, gaze steady and determined. He must find this development satisfactory because his posture relaxes as Sophie nears.

When they are barely a foot apart Sophie doesn’t waste time because there’s a sudden blur of motion and the School Master staggers. Hort only realizes what it was after Sophie steps back, a satisfied smile spread across her face.

There’s a bone-white dagger sticking out of his chest. All Sophie has to do is blow and he’s breaking apart, the tiny pieces of his black and silver form fluttering away like tiny swans. Where had she gotten the dagger?

Sophie rushes back to the raven-haired princess on the floor, Agatha’s chest shaking with the effort of her inhales and exhales. Hort finally understands and Tedros seems to as well, watching the two girls reunite as best friends, like nothing between them was ever broken.

That thought sends a pang of hurt through Hort as he risks a glance at the blond prince pressed half under him. It’s Tedros who breaks the eye contact this time, too familiar mouth twisting into a look of despondence and barely concealed regret, lowered eyes dejected. Hort wants to say something despite everything but a shaky cough interrupts his thoughts and both boys look up.

Sophie is holding Agatha close, arms wrapped around her shoulders like a protective shield. Agatha looks like she’s barely holding on and the remnants of tear tracks stand out on Sophie’s puffy cheeks. There seems to be a final moment of understanding between them before Sophie presses her lips to Agatha’s clammy forehead, calm and at peace.

The two girls look like they already know what’s going to happen because when they start glowing with magic, they just smile. Their bodies are shimmering in gold and become almost transparent before the last remnants of their figures are blown away by the breeze.

They were gone.

Notes:

The Agatha/Sophie relationship is purely platonic because of obvious reasons, I really like invincible friendship love, sue me.

Yeah, this chapter was my way of getting rid of Agatha and Sophie so I could focus on Tort angst in the next chapter. I am ashamed of nothing.

Chapter 13: Wonderwall

Summary:

[Backbeat, the word was on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now]

Notes:

Is this chapter any good? Who can say. But it's done, and it's out there, and I will not take it back!

The cover of Wonderwall from Zella Day is a song that I highly recommend :)

Chapter Text

Five things happen in the next five minutes that Tedros has a hard time keeping up with.

One: Hort is shoving himself away, dark hair mussed up from sweat in a manner that has Tedros’ mouth going a little dry despite the daze he’s still in.

Two: The Theater of Talents is miraculously rebuilding itself, blue and purple sparks mending the different cracks along the walls. Tedros sees Lady Lesso and Professor Dovey standing in the wide-open doors of the theater, arms waving like the conductors of a magical orchestra.

Three: Students and professors are rushing towards the exits and so Tedros stumbles to his feet and follows them, hand gripping at his sword hilt like it's some sort of safety blanket, still shocked from Sophie and Agatha’s fight with the School Master, and said School Master’s apparent death.

Four: The other teachers are panicking and staring towards the Blue Forest, their wide eyes fixated on something in the distance.

Five: As soon as Tedros is outside, the fresh air whipping through his hair, he finally sees what everybody is staring at. Some sort of glittering, translucent dome right at the edge of the blue forest is rapidly deteriorating, larger and larger holes forming in its surface like the ripped seams of a pearly white pair of stockings.

The knowledge that it’s the school’s only wall of magical protection against the real Woods strikes him suddenly and he hurries to join the rest of the students behind the teachers as each professor fires spell after spell at the crumbling barrier.

Dovey is now ushering the Evers towards Good as Lady Lesso faces off against a figure approaching in the mist, the dueling flares of light increasing in speed with each second that passes.

The Nevers are being pushed towards Evil castle by Professor Manley and the last thing Tedros sees is the colliding flash of differently toned, bright, glaring purple lightning illuminating the faces of the other students and staff. Lady Lesso and the dark, mysterious form of someone unidentifiable standing in the middle of it all.

Later, when Lady Lesso appears in the Good common room with scratches all along her arms and a haunted look in her eyes, Tedros knows there must be something seriously wrong. Because Professor Dovey takes one look at the other Dean and disappears with her into her office. The door slams closed behind them with an ominous air of finality.

———

The moment Aric introduces himself to the Nevers and Evil staff, Hort can’t shake the uneasy chill creeping up the back of his neck as he watches those poisonously violet eyes skate across the rows of Never students.

He looks around at the rest and sees the same questioning expression mirrored back to him.

Lady Lesso still hasn’t returned and Manley looks all too pleased with himself.

“Is this allowed?” Ravan whispers into his ear.

Hort shrugs and doesn’t say anything. He can’t figure it out either.

Vex crosses his arms over his chest, “He’s a little too attractive for a Never, isn’t he?

Hort observes Aric’s high cheekbones and strong jaw, ruggedly styled black hair, piercing amethyst eyes and he doesn’t disagree.

Vex punches him in the shoulder. “What’s up with you lately?” he says, “You’ve been weirdly quiet.”

Hort rubs at the sore spot absentmindedly. “Nothing, focusing on school.”

“Oh, please,” Vex lets out a disbelieving laugh, “You’re so mopey and glum that I’m even starting to miss ‘angry and bitter Hort’.”

“I want that guy to come back and replace whatever you have going on right now,” Brone adds, complaining note clear in his voice.

Ravan winces in mock sympathy, “No, we definitely don’t want that.”

Hort shoots him a look.

Ravan smirks, casually cruel, “He’s just depressed because his boy toy dumped him.”

Hort’s hand is in a fist and punching Ravan straight across the jaw before he even knows what he’s doing.

Vex and Brone’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates.

Ravan shakes his head and spits blood, wiping his bruised mouth with the back of his hand, “Fucking hell,”

Hort clenches his jaw, “Shut up.”

The four of them are completely silent for the rest of the assembly and Hort doesn’t even look at Ravan when they go back to their dorm rooms.

Ravan looks like he wants to say something, but frankly, Hort doesn’t want to deal with whatever half-assed comfort bullshit a Never like Ravan has to offer. Curfew comes and Ravan shuts off the lights without a word. Hort is already in bed, facing the wall, his form in grey shadow.The creak of old bed springs tells Hort that Ravan has gotten into his own bunk.

The pale Neverboy curses Ravan for reminding him.

Hort holds his pillow tighter to his chest, the cold cotton a pitifully poor imitation of soft, warm skin and lithe muscles.

———

The list of people Tedros could get jealous of had increased from one, namely Sophie, who is now gone, to anyone who got anywhere near Hort.

And it’s stupid, Tedros knows that. But it doesn’t placate the green-eyed monster sitting on his shoulder, whispering into his ear and telling him that the possessiveness he’s feeling is justified.

Ravan, Vex and Brone have been hanging out with Hort more often lately. Tedros clenches his fists and looks away.

Second Year starts normally like nothing happened and he throws himself into schoolwork as he watches Hort do the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tedros catches glimpses of the dark-haired Neverboy every now and then. And he keeps telling himself that he made the right choice but something supposedly right has never felt as bad as this does now.

Tedros watches Hort drift away and he should be thankful.

When the first thought of getting him back enters his head, Tedros swims 40 laps as punishment. The second thought has him running new laps around the castle until he can’t breathe. The third thought is the fuel for a two hour long workout in the middle of the night, something that’s strictly against the rules but Tedros can’t find it in himself to care.

The cycle continues until he can’t take it anymore.

———

Tedros shouldn’t be here.

Mist curls around his feet and his boots make almost no sound on the wet grass. It’s so dark that he has to keep one hand trailing on the crumbling wall next to him so he doesn’t lose his way or trip across something. The ominous, crimson glow of Evil is the only light he can go by.

The curves and edges of Evil castle look like the jagged teeth of a monster as Tedros makes his way deeper into the den of Nevers.

The moon is shining only dimly from in between thick clouds and when the blond prince turns the corner, he runs smack dab into another hard body. His left foot slides back and his right hand is already at the hilt of his sword, defensive pose coming as easily to him as breathing, the adrenalin he was already feeling making him move faster than he normally would.

The tall figure in front of him flicks their dark hair to the side.

Tedros stops breathing.

“Hort?”

“Nope,” violet eyes glint at him in the half-light, “Try again.”

———

A few days later Hort watches Aric sling an arm around Tedros’ neck and he watches Tedros tolerate it, broad shoulders sagging a little under the added weight of Aric’s heavily muscled arms.

Aric leans in to whisper something into Tedros’ ear and the blonde prince visibly stiffens as the raven-haired villain continues to murmur words that make Tedros’ cheeks progressively darker and darker pink.

This culminates in Tedros shoving Aric away with a huff and stomping off towards Good while Aric leers at his retreating back like a cat would at a badly wounded bird.

———

The light of afternoon washes everything in a soft buttery glow when Hort decides to confront Tedros. This kind of shit makes him think he’s a terrible Never because why would he want to help someone who had hurt him like Tedros had?

“Why do you care?”

Hort lets out a short, derisive laugh, “Because you don’t see him staring after you like some creep!”

Tedros doesn’t say anything, scowling.

“He doesn’t like you,” Hort hisses, “He wants to hurt you.”

“Why is it so hard to believe that he would like me?” Tedros snaps back.

Hort ignores his question. He stabs an accusing finger aggressively into the middle of Tedros’ chest, “He’s gonna kill you, mark my words.”

Tedros’ extended silence only serves to frustrate Hort further. He bunches his hands into his black hair in exasperation, “God, I don’t even know why I care!”

A beat.

“You shouldn’t,” comes the quiet reply.

“You’re right,” Hort snarls, “I don’t know how I ever thought messing around with your clingy ass was a good idea.”

Tedros’ lips thin and his jaw clenches as his gaze drops down to his boots, hands stuffed in his pockets, “Us together was a bad idea.”

Him agreeing has Hort remembering why he was so pissed in the first place. “And you thought Aric was a good one?” Hort cries, incredulous.

The prince doesn’t say anything, looking up at Hort through his eyelashes, pained.

Hort snarls and in one quick motion has Tedros shoved against the wall.

Tedros gasps, alarmed, and stares wide-eyed at the suddenly furious boy in front of him.

“If I acted like him, would that make it better?” Hort growls, eyes dark.

“I—“

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

Hort has the lapels of Tedros’ jacket tight in his fists and he slams the prince hard against the wall one last time before turning on his heel and storming out.

Screw him. Screw him and his self-destructive tendencies.

Hort didn’t care.

He didn’t.

Chapter 14: The Cat and the Canary

Summary:

Tedros can’t get a hold on his emotions.
Pollux brings surprising news.
Aric catches his bird.
Hort saves a life.

Notes:

What is GOOD?
I’m back on the scene and posting an extra long chapter *throws up jazz hands*
(Extra long for me at least lol)

Also: This chapter is slightly more mature if you squint. Ok. Maybe you don’t have to squint too hard. But I couldn’t resist.

Chapter Text

He’s so pretty when he leaves, and Tedros knows this isn’t the healthy response after getting body slammed into a wall, but the way Hort’s cheeks had flushed with emotion has Tedros in turn losing his breath.

If Tedros was the ocean, Hort was the moon. Because gazing up at him in wonder is all Tedros can remember doing. Because his movement pushes and pulls at Tedros like blue waves and uncompromising gravity.

Hort emulates all the duality that Tedros craves. His hard edges and harsh angles inherently Never, but the way it melts away when there’s something, or someone he wants, is stoically individualistic.

Tedros watches him walk away, the prince panting against the cold stone at his back.

He pushes off the rough wall and heads towards Good castle, thinking that maybe he could torture himself with more thoughts of Hort as he does his homework. Maybe when he’s getting ready for bed. And then perhaps, with his pillow stuffed into his mouth, stifling his desperate moans, a little before falling asleep.

Thank god Chaddick had decided to sneak over to Nicholas and Tristan’s room.

If Hort was the wolf, Tedros was the snow. Prints in the white hills like purple marks on skin.

Tedros shudders against his sheets.

If Tedros was a twisting vine of honeysuckle, Hort was the sun, offering greedy yellow flowers light to absorb.

He gasps, arching, the darkness of the room providing cover.

Tedros has never thought of himself as a particularly metaphorical person, but it’s these thoughts that guide him into a restless sleep. What he dreams about, he cannot remember the next morning.

———

Aric isn’t in class the next few days and Hort finds himself immensely glad for it. The dude should have “CREEP” tattooed on his forehead with how often he stares at Tedros. Like the prince is something the violet-eyed villain wants to carve up and hang on his wall.

Despite Aric also being a Never, it doesn’t stop the other Evil students from being wary around him. The rusted knife at his belt was always in plain sight, almost an illicit confession of murderous intent.

The Evers and Nevers have been called into the Theater for an announcement and Hort and the jerks that he calls friends are currently making their way to their seats.

"What's been with Tedros?" Vex asks, “Not that I care much, but he’s like our main competition this year.”

Ravan glances over at the blond prince on the other side of the Theater.

The question itself adds to Hort’s incredibly foul mood, mostly because he doesn't know the answer and he wishes like hell people would stop asking.

“No fucking clue,” he growls.

“Didn’t you two used to be cool?”

Hort turns on Vex with a growl, “Well, we aren’t ‘cool’ anymore.”

“Yeah, dude. Did you already forget?” Ravan pulls a face, then writes “BAD BREAKUP” in the air with his fingerglow behind Hort’s turned back.

Vex nods in understanding and pantomimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Brone snickers but immediately shuts up after Hort shoots him a venomous look.

Now they’re just waiting for the rest of the teachers to arrive.

Pollux and Castor stomp in, both heads miraculously balanced on the same wolf body, and thunder up the stairs to the main stage.

“LISTEN UP YOU PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR RAT TURDS,” Castor bellows.

Pollux slaps Castor promptly on the snout before continuing at a lighter decibel, “As second years you will be facing a Trial by Tale with slightly different parameters,”— He pulls out a sparkly pink binder and opens it —“In your fairytales, the decisions you make can bring dire consequences. Whether you choose to work together with someone, or betray them, it all has an impact on your quest and subsequently your story,” he pauses, “Even Death” Pollux’s stare is serious as he considers the Evers and Nevers in the pews before him, “Is a possible outcome.”

Both Good students and Evil students are dead-quiet as they listen to the more effeminate half of the two wolves. Even Castor has fallen silent.

“So in this next Trial, there will only be one rule,” Pollux states, “All participants must stay within the boundaries of the Blue Forest.”

A beat, and then everyone starts talking at once.

The noise reaches a thunderous roar of panicked voices before Pollux is raising a paw and the conversations stop almost instantly. Hort has an iron-tight grip on the armrest beside him.

“That also means that what was previously prohibited,” Pollux pauses and scans through the rows of students, “Is now allowed.”

The Evers start whispering to each other again.

“Teaming up with another student is now allowed,” Pollux says, “Teaming up with a student from the other side is allowed, bringing your own weapon is allowed,”— Pollux closes the binder with a snap, —“And fatal injury is allowed, but not advised.”

“This is more intense than last time,” Ravan comments quietly into Hort’s ear.

On the other side of the aisle separating them, Reena stands up while raising her hand, “Professor Pollux?”

“Yes, Reena?”

“Do you mean that working together with an Evil student is allowed? Because I’m not quite sure I understand,” she says, curtsying and then sitting back down, gaze expectant.

Pollux nods, “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Claiming victory along with a student from the other side is fully authorized. In fact,” he inclines his head while keeping an eye on them, “It is encouraged. For if you do, the rewards for winning will be greater.”

Countless jaws on both sides fall open in disbelief.

“No fucking way,” Vex breathes from two seats away.

“That’s bullshit,” Hester hisses from behind them.

“Ew, noooo,” Hort hears from a group of Evergirls across the aisle.

The rest of the commentary from the others follows that theme to a ‘T’.

After a minute of that Pollux hushes them with a harsh look and a light growl, “I won’t hear any more complaints,” he says, “It’s not mandatory, so if none of you choose to do so, the new parameter won’t come into play.”

There’s an audible sigh of relief but Hort’s mind is racing.

He could do this.

Win the Trial by Tale.

Finally gain the honor of securing his dad a burial place among the best of the villains on Necro Ridge.

All Hort had to do was work together with the one person who had his mind whirling in a hot tailspin of sickening feelings.

Almost instinctively he’s glancing towards the Evers. Hort only glimpses his side profile for a split second; the gentle slope of a nose, long eyelashes fanning over high cheekbones, the subtle pout of pink lips, before, almost as if he’s sensed it, Tedros is turning and crystal-blue eyes are locking onto Hort’s.

Tedros’ gaze looks hesitant, but determined. In an instant Hort knows they have the same idea.

It’s almost spring and the first hints of green are peeking from barren trees and semi-frozen earth. But it’s still cold enough that once Pollux and Castor dismiss them, both Evers and Nevers are fleeing back into the warmth of their own castles.

All except two. Hort follows the rest of his peers into the castle but takes a different turn when they’re not looking. And Hort makes sure they aren’t looking. Because this time they can’t afford to get caught.

Tedros is already standing next to the washing counters when Hort arrives, the distant backdrop of the Blue Forest casting his figure in partial shadow.

“This is gonna be strictly business,” Hort says, right off the bat.

Tedros scoffs, “Obviously.”

Hort narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like this version of Tedros, cocky and too sure of himself.

“We can’t get caught this time,” he adds for good measure, sticking his already frozen hands into the deep pockets of his black coat.

“You’re telling me that like I don’t already know.”

“I’m making sure, you bastard.”

“Make sure of something else, asshole,” Tedros taunts, swaggering towards him with his arms folded across his chest, “Like what your strategy is, if you even have one.”

A few minutes alone with him and Hort’s already ready to blow a fuse.

“I’m bringing Excalibur and my excellent combat skills,” he says, blond curls falling across his forehead when he tilts his head condescendingly, “What do you have?”

Hort looks away into the distance for a moment to calm himself, when he looks back, Tedros is smirking.

“My control over my manwolf form is almost perfect—“

“Almost?” Tedros grins.

“And I’m a lot stronger than last time we fought,” Hort finishes, taking three assured steps closer to Tedros, to make their height difference even more obvious.

Tedros raises his eyebrows at that, “Really?”

The prince has to tilt his head slightly upwards to meet Hort’s eye now that they’re only a foot apart.

It’s Hort’s turn to grin as he replies, “Oh yeah.”

Hort’s sharp canines glint from in between his parted lips and that must be why Tedros stares at his mouth for longer, only after quite some time do blue eyes flick up to meet Hort’s gaze once again and Hort just now notices that the prince’s cheeks are peach pink from the cold.

“Prove it,” Tedros whispers.

Hort has his hand around the strong line of Tedros’ biceps before Tedros has taken his next breath. But nonetheless, the blond reacts fast, twisting out of Hort’s grip like an eel. The inky-haired Never doesn’t let this deter him and he’s making a series of direct moves to gain the upper hand, relying on the strength he’d built up in the past weeks.

Tedros blocks or evades each one… except for the last.

Hort must have underestimated the power of his push when his hand’s make contact with Tedros’ chest, because he sprawls forward onto his hands and knees while Tedros tumbles backwards, hands barely shooting back in time to catch himself.

The sharp edges of small rubble buried in the dirt dig into Hort’s hands as he gathers himself, panting into the ground under him.

After a moment a delirious laugh bubbles from Tedros’ throat, “We’re such a mess.”

Hort’s head tilts up slowly, brown eyes surveying the boy still on the ground before him. Tedros’ head hangs forward, his palms planted behind him to support his weight from where he’d fallen on his rear.

Hort can’t help but agree.

“We can meet after curfew,” Tedros suggests after a beat, “It might be risky but I’d rather get in trouble with the teachers than run into one of the others.”

Hort nods and pushes himself back so he’s resting his weight on his heels.

“We could win this,” Tedros says quietly.

Hort meets his gaze again, and he’s searching for something in Tedros’ expression, what that something is, Hort doesn’t know.

“Yeah,” he ends up replying.

Tedros is standing up and dusting the dirt off the back of his (formerly) neat-pressed pants. Hort gets up as well, sticking his hands back into his pockets.

“See you here tomorrow night at 9 o’clock then,” Hort says, going off on a limb and guessing a time that would probably be good for the both of them.

Tedros nods and takes a step towards Hort before he seems to catch himself and the blond prince doesn’t even look into Hort’s eyes again before he’s leaving, boots leaving shallow imprints into the hard ground.

Hort watches him leave before turning around to walk back to Evil, feeling oddly unfulfilled as he enters the Tunnel of Trees.

He dismisses the feeling.

———

The next few weeks of preparation for the next Trial by Tale pass by quickly. Hort is sure he’s making the team. With Sophie gone, his place is as good as written in stone.

He and Tedros meet every other night to discuss their strategies for different situations that could arise. Hort is delightfully smug everytime he impresses Tedros with an idea or technique.

Hort has to suppress his own looks of awe any time Tedros comes up with something smart or useful.

Against his will, Hort and Tedros enter an uneasy, and then easier, bond of friendship. Hort navigates it nervously, the memories of hurt still fresh in his chest. Even if Tedros had changed his mind, Hort wasn’t willing to risk it.

———

On one of their nights of preparation for the Trial (the four weeks time to plan is already half gone), they’re studying a map of the blue forest beside dim lantern light and Tedros finds himself a little bit distracted.

They’re pressed so close together that Tedros feels the heat of Hort’s skin through the multiple layers of clothing between them. The urge to tell Hort how he feels grows stronger the more he looks at him.

“Hort, I—“

“I think setting a last-ditch meeting point is important, but we need one that seems unappealing to the others,” Hort interrupts, expression focused on the map in front of him.

Tedros feels ashamed that he’s the only one affected. Hort looks perfectly composed, black hair swept back from his face like the mane of a stallion, dark and silky. A stray strand falls across his forehead and Tedros’ fingers twitch by his side.

“If we want to work together, we also need a plan for not getting caught this time.”

Tedros blinks, “Right.”

“We’ve been doing well so far, but Nevers are cunning and the Evers gossip, so that could change in a second.”

Pale skin and dark hair makes Hort look like a black and white picture come alive, warm and zealous and present. Hort lays a hand on his upper arm and under his fingers Tedros feels like he’s burning from the inside out.

“What’s it you wanted to say?”

Right, his confession. His failed confession.

He doesn’t feel so brave anymore.

“Just… if you need somebody,” Tedros swallows, and his tongue tastes a lot like cowardice. “A friend or something, I’ll be there.”

Hort’s fingers slip off of his arm and Tedros stands, suddenly needing to flee, pulling on his jacket without a word, and ignoring the way brown eyes follow his movements.

Brown eyes that look like pools of liquid chocolate. His favourite hot chocolate.

And of course something goes wrong the next week. Because when has anything ever gone right for Tedros?

———

"Have you seen Tedros?" Brone ponders, “He looks kinda worse for wear lately.”

Hort rolls his eyes, “Why are you so obsessed with him?”

Feigning indifference is hard, particularly since Tedros has missed the last three meetings. And Hort keeps showing up like a sucker. But the other boy’s absences have to be unwilling, because each time Hort sees him, the prince looks even more beaten down than before. Brone isn’t the only one who noticed.

“I’m not obsessed,” Brone retorts, “Despite us Nevers being seen as a pathetic bunch of losers—“

Ravan shoots him a look.

“—I want an honorable fight, and that doesn’t work if the enemy is out of commission.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Brone huffs and turns to Vex, “This is why he doesn’t have any other friends.”

Hort fumes silently. Maintaining the image that he and Tedros were still on bad terms was vital. And despite being an atrocious actor, Hort thinks he’s doing pretty well so far in convincing his friends that nothing has improved.

“Hort hates Prince Prettyface,” Ravan comments, shrugging his shoulders, “Definitely doesn’t wanna talk about him,” he snickers a little at that.

Hort catches the laugh but chooses to ignore it, worrying instead when he fails to spot that telling head of golden curls.

All the times that Hort could use to pull Tedros aside, the prince is suspiciously absent.

And it’s an accident, really, when Hort finally discovers what’s been going on.

———

In the flickering light of the dungeons under Evil castle tears are sluggishly sliding down Tedros’ cheeks and Aric grins at the sight of them.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says, licking his lips, “Cry for me.”

Tedros is panting, trying to stop because he knows he’s stronger than this, the salty wetness on his lips and burning in his eyes a reminder of his continued failure. It’s humiliating the way Aric is breaking him down.

“Hands on the wall.”

Tedros’ breaths are coming harsh and fast as he places his cut-up hands shakily on the cold stone in front of him. He keeps telling himself that this isn’t how he was going to die. Not worse than his father.

One of his blood-slick palms slip on the stone in front of him, and he lets out a pained moan when he slips and his shoulder hits the wall, new bruises blooming under his skin. He hasn’t been eating and he’s weaker than usual.

“Keep your position if you don’t want your little secret to get out,” Aric sneers.

Tedros spits blood and shakily adjusts his hands, fingers burning. Any one of these next hits could kill him. Shadows flicker past the dirty floor under his feet.

He hears footsteps in the hallway outside of the cell and Tedros swears he must be imagining it. He does hear the clear hiss of Aric’s whip as it comes down towards his back, vulnerable tan skin bare to the muggy air of the dungeon.

The impact never comes and Tedros whips around in shock.

In the dim light of the cell he only catches Hort punching Aric in the face before Hort is turning towards him, chest heaving.

Tedros’ eyes flick down to the long laceration along Hort’s forearm, now bleeding sluggishly.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Tedros says, voice hoarse, “He’s gonna kill you.”

Hort never thought that emotions could physically hurt you, but the things that are coming out of Tedros’ mouth right now makes him ache like nothing he’s ever felt before. “I wasn’t going to leave you there,” Hort insists, “I wasn’t going to let him torture you.”

“I’m not worth all this bullshit,” Tedros says, legs unsteady, one hand still on the wall. There’s no trace of emotion in his voice. It’s a statement. A fact. Hort doesn’t know if he wants to scream, or turn around so he can run at Aric and give him what he deserves.

None of those options would help Tedros right now, though. And he has to help Tedros if he wants to win the Trail, is what Hort keeps telling himself.

So Hort grabs him and thrusts a shoulder under Tedros’ arm, slinging that arm over his own shoulders and half carrying, half assisting the prince to the safety of an unused bathroom.

Nevers hated toilets. Hort finds himself thankful for it.

He finds white bandages and healing ointment in the unused first-aid kit nailed to the wall in the corner of the bathroom.

Hort treats the wounds on the broad expanse of Tedros’ back first, forearms second, and finally the cuts on the golden tan of a muscled stomach.

Hort wants that to be it. Hort wants to pull away from the space where they’re breathing the same air, only a couple inches between them.

But Tedros slips in under his guard like he did so many times before and just presses even closer, crowding him up against the wall and burying his face into the curve of Hort’s neck. Hort tenses, instinctive, before his body just goes loose and boneless against Tedros’ solid warmth.

The stark white of the bandages contrast with the golden tan of the prince’s smooth skin.

It was just the remnants of his past feelings, he tells himself as his hands find their way to Tedros’ waist. His stupid feelings are still going nuts, he thinks as he buries his nose in Tedros’ soft hair and breathes, just taking in his scent.

It was just temporary indulgence.

Chapter 15: In The Night

Summary:

Three little words and I’m yours.

Notes:

Finally finished the chapter and I’m so happy it’s posted! If you like it drop a kudos or comment because it always makes my day so so so much better!!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Exhausted from the day of lessons, Hort falls asleep almost immediately after dropping on his bed. The feel of dirty, tattered sheets does nothing to prevent him from sleeping. When the door creaks open, Hort blinks, slowly coming to and squinting his eyes at the torch light that filters inside the room right before a figure steps inside, closing the door shut behind them.

Blinking and scrubbing his eyes, Hort takes in Tedros’ state of undress: paler skin, loose shirt, the dramatic curve of his waist, once strong legs turned skinny now approaching the bed in a careful, calculated manner.

Hort tenses but doesn’t try to push Tedros away when the bed barely dips under the starved boy’s weight.

“Can’t sleep, just…” words are coming out of Tedros’ mouth but Hort can barely keep up. Tedros, up close, looks teary eyed and all Hort can see are Tedros’ prominent eye bags as he bites his lips. Blue eyes search for a reaction. “I need this,” Tedros says, the meaning behind his words more than evident given the circumstances.

Faintly wondering if this was all part of a dream (the moonlight, Tedros’ strange desperation, it all seems too sudden and yet too late) Hort nods without a second thought.

The Neverboy hesitantly grabs Tedros by the arm, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about his calloused fingers. He wonders if Tedros is okay with their rough touch and his mind strays, in that intrusive way it sometimes did, considering that maybe Tedros was being too hasty about the whole thing.

Maybe he was being too hasty. Letting back the one person who had hurt him more than he thought anyone ever could.

Tedros falls back into the bed, neck arching with a wince when his bruises brush up against textured cotton. His blue eyes blink open and train an unreadable gaze up at Hort. Dark gold eyelashes are clumped together from long ago shed tears.

Hort has one arm propping him up in a half-sitting position and the other clamped around Tedros’ forearm, either holding the blond at arm’s length or making sure he doesn’t leave, Hort’s undecided.

And he’s still hesitant, still wary, still at war with himself. There’s an insistent voice that’s whispering in the back of his mind.

Just one more time, Hort, just fuck it up one more time and then let him go.

“Just, please, just this once,” he finds himself whispering, suddenly confessional. His fingers trail from his arm over to Tedros’ chest, disturbingly bold despite the internal battle going on in his head. Hort’s hand pushes through soft strands of golden hair and curls around the nape of his neck as he takes a shaky breath, “Just pretend that you still like me.”

Long fingers come up and slide up his ribs as Tedros slackens his grip around him, his lips parting on a shaky exhale. A flash of something unrecognisable appeared in his gaze; it almost looked like… hurt, shame.

I never stopped, Tedros wants to say. But he keeps his mouth shut and just holds Hort there, keeping him close with the barest brush of his fingertips.

Hort stares down at Tedros, brown eyes vulnerable. He closes his eyes on a shaky exhale before turning and blowing out the light. But he can’t get himself to move. It doesn’t feel right, going to sleep with space between them, leaving Tedros on his own.

Fuck it, he thinks for the second time that day, and slides in closer to Tedros.

For a few seconds, nothing happens.

“Cozy,” Tedros says eventually.

Tedros had been jumpy and uncomfortable with physical touch this past week and Hort’s starting to understand why. “Deal with it,” he says, scooting closer.

“You trying to seduce me?”

“You wish,” Hort responds, suddenly feeling more relaxed, the light banter easing the tension from before, “Come on, on your side.”

“Huh?”

“You said cozy, we’re getting cozy.”

Hort waits for Tedros to shift on the bed so he can curl around him. Spooning. They’re spooning. Hort tries really hard to ignore those other thoughts in the dark corner of his mind and carefully puts an arm around Tedros, mindful of his bruises.

“This good?” he asks.

“Not made of glass, Hort.”

That’s all the permission he needs to press himself close to Tedros, hoping it can provide some comfort. A moment passes, and then Tedros grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers. Okay. Yeah, this is fine.

Hort waits patiently for Tedros’ body to stop shivering. After what feels like an eternity, the prince relaxes and finally, finally falls asleep. After a few minutes, Hort feels his eyelids start to get heavy and he too, falls slowly asleep, the comforting presence of the other boy pressed up against his front like the embodiment of warm contentment.

———

Tedros wakes up to the pale light of early dawn and notices immediately that he had actually done it. He had limped his way to Hort’s room like the pathetic excuse for a prince that he was and asked Hort if he could stay, if he could seek refuge in the room of a Never.

Tedros turns onto his other side with those shameful thoughts in his head and through the morning haze, he sees Hort sleeping on his back.

The soft rise and fall of Hort’s chest, the sunlight filtering gently through his ebony hair. His face is lax and missing his characteristic scowl, missing the angry creases around his eyes, and his lips aren’t turned down in a frown for once.

He looks so… peaceful.

Younger.

Tedros wants to run his fingers along all the different slopes and edges of Hort’s face.

Cheekbones, nose, jaw.

Tedros never thought he could think another guy was beautiful, nevermind a boy from the School for Evil. But he can think of no other adjectives to describe Hort in this moment. Maybe the adoration is clouding his judgement, adding a rosy tint to every image Hort appears in.

Dark, ebony lashes fan out over his cheeks, taking Tedros’ breath away. He gives in and traces the curve of Hort’s nose with the tip of his middle finger, making him shiver in his sleep.

There’s a small smile perking at the edge of his lips before he knows it. And Tedros only registers that Hort is awake when he’s looking into suddenly open brown eyes, the Never’s gaze soft and hauntingly reverent, startlingly clear despite morning drowsiness.

Tedros feels oddly self-conscious under Hort’s stare.

“Stop,” he whispers before his brain-to-mouth filter kicks in, the aching vulnerability clear in the crack of the last syllable.

“Stop what?” Hort whispers back, looking suspiciously like the one in control. Tedros hates it.

Maybe the early hours of the day are making him more honest but Tedros doesn’t break their eye contact, the current between them like a live wire.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Why?” Hort asks again, gaze steady and expectant like he knows something already.

“I—“

Hort is hanging onto his every word and laying impossibly close to him. The bed suddenly seems too small for the two of them. Tedros pushes on. “I can’t take it because I— ”

He loses his ability to speak. He can’t do it. He can’t be vulnerable like this. Not again. He feels himself tense, feels his heart rate accelerate, feels the negative memories threaten to break down the door and force themselves into his head.

Breathe. He coaxes himself. Hort stares at him expectantly, a wide range of emotions shining in his dark brown eyes. He deserves to know the truth – even if Hort rejects him, even if the other boy runs out of Tedros’ room right then, he deserves to know.

“ —I want you.”

Hort’s answer comes as a hot press of lips that has Tedros inhaling with a startled shudder.

“You want me?” Hort breathes into the barely existent space between their parted lips.

“I want—“

Tedros’s chest is heaving through undone shirt laces and white bandages. His eyes flick down to Hort’s lips before flicking up again, mouth parting around a shaky inhale.

That’s all Hort needs to press him down into the sheets and crush their mouths together in a burning kiss. Tedros’ hands scramble up and down Hort’s arms before coming up and digging into his shoulders. Hort presses into him again, like they could become closer than close, closer than skin to skin.

Hort has no other thoughts on his mind than to take, to claim. He bites into Tedros’ mouth and the prince welcomes it, fingers digging even harder into the muscles of Hort’s shoulders.

“That’s not what you need to say,” Hort finally hisses out in response, “But I’ll give you another chance.”

Sharp teeth bite into the long length of Tedros’ tan neck and Tedros whines, fingers digging harder into the muscle of Hort’s back.

“Come on,” Hort growls into the soft skin under Tedros’ jaw.

“I—“

“Where’s that confidence from before?”

“I—“ Tedros swallows thickly.

“I know you can say it,” Hort purrs, voice dropping a few octaves as he observes the shiver of lithe muscles under him, Tedros flushing red, cheeks flooding with color, eyes squeezed shut. Hort’s confidence increases with each involuntary tremble Tedros can’t hold back.

Eyes finally blink open, dewy and oh-so-blue, hands fisting into Hort’s shirt, a gasp, “I love you,” Tedros shudders after the words leave his lips, trying to twist away from Hort’s stare. The Never keeps the prince still with unrelenting hands, pushing Tedros’ wrists into the mattress.

And Hort definitely thought he was prepared for it, repeating the phrase enough times in his head, wishing it would come from Tedros. But now that it’s actually happened, Hort finds himself breathless, spending what feels like an eternity basking in the echo of the cadence and sound of those three words.

“I love you too,” Hort breathes out, almost surprised with it himself, brown eyes trained on the blond under him, watching every twitch, every tiny movement.

Tedros surges up to capture Hort’s mouth in a kiss, plush lips unwavering and vanilla sweet. Fingers comb into dark hair at the nape of Hort’s neck and tug, bringing Hort down closer and the Never drowns in the kisses, the oxygen in the room not nearly enough.

Hort is about to roll them over when the blaring sound of the school bell rings loud and sudden, shocking Hort off of Tedros and out of bed, finding his balance in the middle of his room, floorboards creaking under his feet.

The bell signals the fifteen minute mark for the beginning of first period so Hort knows he still has time. At least that’s what he tells himself as he hurriedly tugs on his jacket and boots.

Tedros appraises him from his spot on the bed, suddenly looking very much more composed than just two minutes before.

“I’ll see you later then,” Tedros says, getting up as well, slipping on his shirt and boots, already at the door before Hort can blink.

How does he get dressed that fast?

Tedros is about to leave, hand on the door handle, but swivels around last second and presses a chaste kiss to Hort’s lips, the edge of his mouth quirking upwards before he’s walking out the door, blue clad shoulders disappearing around the corner.

“See you,” Hort says to the open door, a dopey smile practically glued to his face.

———

Evening comes and Hort goes to their meeting place, confident that Tedros would get there soon.

Ten minutes pass but Hort wasn’t worried, ten minutes was reasonable.

After twenty minutes Hort is getting annoyed. Would it kill Tedros to respect his time?

Thirty minutes go by and Hort’s anxiety sets in, real concern clawing at the seams of his heart. His mind jumps immediately to the that violent psychopath Aric and his heart-rate shoots upwards. He walks from one counter end to the other, fists clenched at his sides, black bangs falling over his face.

Hort’s head snaps up at the crunch of gravel and dried leaves.

Tedros walks through the Tunnel of Trees to see Hort pacing the field like a caged tiger, his stormy eyes lasering in on him the second he crosses through the arch.

“Tedros,” Hort growls as soon as he sees him, stalking forward. Tedros freezes, eyes widening. Hort fists his shirt, dragging Tedros towards the chair next to the wash-counter before dropping to his knees. “Tedros,” Hort repeats, gentler this time, pleading.

“I’m here.”

Hort presses his forehead against Tedros’ knee and sucks in a deep breath, hand clasped tight around Tedros’ calf. He lets it out in a shaky exhale, fingers tightening around Tedros’ leg.

Hort moves his head up and buries his face in Tedros’ thigh, seeking solace and comfort. He stays there for a while, needing to take a minute to come down from his state of panic.

“It’s okay,” Tedros murmurs from above him.

Hort rises to his feet then, tugging Tedros up with him.

“Are you okay?” the prince asks.

Hort nods absentmindedly, waving his hand briefly in assent.

Tedros immediately drapes his arms around Hort’s shoulders. There’s something about the way Tedros is looking at him. An indecisiveness to his body language for a split second that makes it hard for Hort to really understand. And he has to wonder again what Tedros is thinking before he smiles at him. Slowly and leisurely, as if he’s opted to ignore whatever his worry was for now.

Hort knows that’s something he can’t let slide. Emotionally constipated princes be damned.

“What’s wrong?”

Tedros laughs, “Nothing, hard to get here is all.”

The prince doesn’t meet his gaze and Hort narrows his eyes, “What happened?”

Tedros claps him on the shoulder and tries to push him away like he does with his Ever buddies but Hort doesn’t budge.

Tedros lets out an uneasy chuckle.

Hort keeps on staring.

“I ran into Aric on the way here,” Tedros grunts, as if telling Hort he converses with psychopaths was such a tiresome thing. Hort pushes his worry down with the reassurance that Tedros doesn’t look worse for wear, at least of what he can see.

“Everything good?” he asks Tedros.

“Yep,” Tedros replies, “Walked past, no trouble. Did you wanna do a checkup? I know you like seeing me naked.”

Hort’s heart does something weird as he tries to come up with an equally witty response, but he’s interrupted by Tedros when he continues.

“The Trial is on Friday,” Tedros says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Hort nods, “Right.”

“I’m entering last with Aric.”

Hort’s lips thin, “I’m only twelfth since Hester and Anadil pulled ahead in the rankings this week.”

Tedros pats Hort on the shoulder, “It’s not a big deal, we’ll find each other.”

“Yeah,” Hort mutters, “Right.”

Notes:

Brooooo
The next chapter is the last chapter this is CRAZY

Chapter 16: You Move, I Move

Summary:

The last chapter.

Notes:

Ayooooo after nearly two months!!!
Round of applause for your resident trash bag :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Their last meeting before the Trial by Tale is brief.

They’ve managed to keep the alliance a secret, and Tedros is still shocked that they actually managed to keep it quiet.

The shadows of the trees and crumbling towers of Evil shield them partially from sight and the wind blowing through rustles the remaining autumn leaves enough that it drowns out any sounds they make.

Hort reaches out and slides an arm around Tedros’ waist, pulling him in for a kiss. The blond practically melts against him, lips going slack against his own as he lets Hort do as he pleases.

But when Hort pulls back just as quickly, Tedros dives into the Neverboy’s neck, searching for the scent of pine and smoke, breathing in sharply and making Hort shiver at the connection.

His eyes flutter closed as Tedros makes a mess out of his neck, biting and sucking at the pale skin there.

“You think we’ll win?” Tedros asks into Hort’s neck, the slight tinge of worry clear in his voice. It’s a stark difference from his normally confident persona but Hort is bolstered by the prince’s presence nonetheless.

Hort smirks, his eyes stay closed. “Never been more sure of anything.”

He doesn’t have to open his eyes to see Tedros’ smile, he can feel it against his neck. Tedros nips him again. Hort hisses out a laugh, hand coming up to tangle in Tedros’ shirt.

Unfortunately, Hort and Tedros do not get to enter at the same time because Aric had manipulated his way to the top in the end. Despite that, Hort isn’t worried, because Tedros’ cocky self-assurance is back once the blond sets his sights on the Blue Forest.

Hort is planned to enter third to last with Beatrix, the golden-haired princess looking determined to win. Like they all are, Hort thinks to himself.

Hester is set to enter second to last with Chaddick, and the witch is looking like she has her eyes very much on the prize, demon tattoo already smoking on her neck as they all stand at the ready, only Hort and Beatrix to enter before them.

Hort risks a glance at Aric and Tedros at the back of the line behind Hester and Chaddick.

Tedros looks determined yet relaxed, cheeks ruddy from the cold, blue trial cloak loose around his broad shoulders. Hort tugs at his own cloak, pulling it more snug around his neck because unlike some people, Hort got cold if he wasn’t properly dressed for the weather.

The starting bell for their entrance rings out through the clearing and he and Beatrix step forward to enter the blue forest. It’s Hort’s first time competing and he’s actually looking forward to it, especially since he has a teammate to rely on.

The sapphire and azure leaves of the trees sparkle with a light layer of frost and the beauty of it all eases Hort’s nerves just a little. But he has no time to really appreciate because Castor and Pollux are pushing them inside, the security of clacking spiders roaming across Hort’s skin before they release him into the glittering darkness.

He starts out for their first meeting place, fallen leaves crunching under his feet as he makes his way through the underbrush.

It hasn’t felt like any time has passed before the next bell rings and Hort picks up his pace. Hester and Chaddick are now inside, fifteen minutes later Aric and Tedros as well. He hasn’t met any competitors yet and he finds himself thankful, much preferring the monsters to his peers.

When he arrives at their meeting place, Hort climbs up a nearby tree and perches on a branch concealed from view, branches blocking any potential eyes.

And then he waits.

And waits.

———

Once Hort is inside, it’s only fifteen minutes till Hester and Chaddick enter, and then it’s only Aric and him waiting at the edge of the blue forest, the crowd of cheering Evers and Nevers behind them.

Tedros glances at the violet-eyed boy beside him and finds Aric already leering at him, purple eyes glimmering with venom. He breaks eye contact with a huff.

What a creep.

Sooner than he expects, the bell rings loud for the last time and they’re inside before Tedros properly realizes it, branches of blue leaves closing like azure gates behind them.

A shadow moves almost instantly from the corner of his eye after they’re closed in and Tedros spins to block Aric’s swing with the base of his sword almost on instinct, sucking in a shocked inhale.

Aric hadn’t wasted a second.

“You’re about to die,” the violet-eyed Never hisses after jumping back, throwing his rusted knife from hand to hand as he once again stalks towards him.

The blond prince clenches his jaw as he keeps backing up with every step Aric advances. Tedros ignores the instinct to attack with Excalibur before he shoots a bolt of golden light at Aric’s chest, wrapping him in vines as he goes on the offensive.

Aric curses as he hits the ground with a grunt and Tedros is immediately on him, one hand on his chest to push the Neverboy to the ground and the other rummaging through the folds of his Trial tunic, searching for that red flag. The one that will get Aric out of the competition.

“There’s no way you’re finding my flag,” Aric snarls up at Tedros, muscles tensing under the thick restraints.

Tedros doesn’t respond, going through Aric’s pockets and then his boots but finding nothing. There are faint screams in the distance and Tedros tenses, head turning in the direction of the noise.

Aric cackles from underneath him, “Are you willing to risk it, pretty boy?”

Tedros lets out a frustrated huff before giving Aric one last shove and standing up.

“What, you’re running away?” Aric sneers, arms flexing by his sides from under the tight bindings of the vines.

“Shut up,” Tedros snaps, running a hand through his hair.

Barely ten minutes into the Trial and things were already going wrong.

Tedros sighs as he sheathes his sword. Putting his pride aside he shoots Aric one last look before breaking into a run in the direction from where he heard the voices.

“COWARD!” Aric screams after him.

There’s a sound of tearing and enraged growls but Tedros doesn’t turn back, not wanting to risk it, despite everything in his gut telling him to finish the job. He sprints through the sapphire wood, nimbly jumping over the underbrush in his way towards where he hopes Hort is not.

Once he confirms that Hort isn’t one of the competitors in danger Tedros was going to head in the direction of their first set meeting place.

Suddenly sparks are lighting up the midnight sky and when Tedros looks up, he sees Tristan and Kiko’s names disappear off the board. And then in succession, Vex and Brone’s names disappear as well. Whatever it was, it had taken out students from both sides.

Tedros changes direction with relief, avoiding the weeping willows and scarecrows as he makes his way to where Hort is (hopefully) waiting.

He’s halfway there when it happens.

———

Hort waits up in the tree until sheer restlessness brings him down. His boots hit the frosty ground with a muffled crunch. His fists clench at his sides because he knows he’s definitely been waiting for too long.

And like a cruel confirmation, a pained scream cuts through the night like a knife, turning Hort’s blood to ice.

Tedros.

Hort is running before he even knows it, crashing through bushes and low-hanging branches towards the sound.

The screaming only gets louder, breaking into a blood curdling wail that sets Hort’s nerves on fire. The cries don’t even sound like Tedros anymore. The stupidly proud Prince of Good had always taken pain in silence, never letting others see his weakness, standing tall in the face of hopelessness.

This was like nothing Hort had ever heard before.

Branches and thorns lash Hort’s face and arms, leaving bloody scratches and shredding his trial cloak to pieces. He tears through everything in his path, not caring anymore that he’s probably alerting everyone else to his location.

He stumbles into a clearing and skids to a stop, almost falling backwards as he takes in the scene.

Aric is hunched over Tedros, rusted knife glinting in the moonlight between the two boys, their faces far too close for comfort. Hort catches a gleam of red smeared along the edge and rushes forward.

Aric has his knife at Tedros’ neck in a flash and stares at Hort with dangerous eyes, stopping the other boy in his tracks.

“You make one move, Weasel-Boy, and Blondie here gets it.”

Hort can’t do anything but stare at Tedros in despair, taking in all the cuts along his arms and chest. They vary in length and thickness but all are letting out a steady stream of blood. Aric has two of his fingers buried into the largest gash above Tedros’ collarbone, pushing into the torn and bloody flesh with a cruel ruthlessness. They can’t have been here long because Tedros still looks coherent enough to turn his head.

Remarkably, Aric did nothing to Tedros’ face and the only sign of abuse are the tear tracks running down the prince’s cheeks.

Tedros lets out a desperate gasp as he sees Hort for the first time and Hort has never, ever seen the prince so vulnerable.

“Why hurt him like this?” Hort pleads. “Take the handkerchief from his boot and let him go!” Hort wants to run forwards but the glint of Aric’s blade stops him.

“Call me possessive.” Aric purrs, digging his knife further into the vulnerable line of Tedros’ pulse before pulling himself up and yanking Tedros roughly to his chest, holding the prince in place with a forearm against his neck.

The violet-eyed boy seems to assess the situation before offering a lopsided grin, looking positively maniacal. “I like marking the things that are mine.”

“You’re crazy,” Hort growls. He slowly moves an arm behind himself, hoping to any deity above that violet-eyed boy doesn’t notice.

Aric smiles, eerily calm, “You’re probably right.”

“Let him go,” Hort tries again, taking a step forward. His hand wraps around the small blade tucked into his waistband.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Aric tuts, shaking his head, pressing the blade harder into the thrum of Tedros’ main artery.

Hort stops, putting his hands up in what he hopes is a placating manner. That small, silver knife now safely tucked into his sleeve.

The next few seconds pass in a blur of movement that Hort is shocked he’s even able to keep up with.

He flings the blade at his target.

Red blooms at the shoulder of Aric’s cloak.

The other Never screams.

Tedros falls onto his hands and knees, suddenly released by Aric.

Hort sprints forward, shoving a shoulder under Tedros’ arm and pulling the other boy towards the edge of the clearing and into the trees, half carrying, half-dragging the blond’s form towards escape. Aric howls from behind them and Hort and Tedros attempt to stumble along faster.

Tedros is surprisingly fast even with his wounds still sluggishly oozing blood, red mixing with the sweat on his bare chest.

Once Aric’s screams fade into silence, the tension in Hort’s frame eases and their pace slows a fraction. He quickly wraps the areas with deeper lacerations in gauze, Tedros wincing when Hort accidentally pulls it too tight.

The full moon shines above them as they then continue to trudge through the blue forest, Hort having said that they needed a quick place to lie low before coming up with a plan. Tedros is walking in front of Hort and the prince seems to be getting slower with every minute but they’ve been in the woods for hours and it’s way past midnight, so Hort knows that exhaustion is likely taking its toll on the other boy. It’s a miracle they haven’t run into anyone else.

The cuts from Aric have stopped bleeding and the bandages that Hort had quickly wrapped around the prince’s upper torso are still free of red so Hort relaxes a little, the grip he has on his other weapons loosening.

But he keeps his gaze on Tedros’ back, not letting him out of his sight. Hort risks quick glances to the side in case of an ambush, but this part of the forest seems strangely quiet, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the wind and Tedros’ surprisingly heavy footsteps.

Hort almost stops for a second as he considers it. Tedros had always been light on his feet, making almost no noise when he moved during Forest Group and training sessions with the other Everboys.

Hort tenses.

Something was wrong.

Hort stops Tedros with a hand on his sleeve and the prince turns around unsteadily, slow reaction time making a swell of worry rise in Hort’s chest. There’s a flush on Tedros’ face that wasn’t there before and he’s staggering on his feet. The prince rights himself, but his ragged breaths betray him and he now has his right hand pressed tightly into his side.

Hort looks closer and despite the dark of the forest he can still make out an ominous patch growing larger every time Tedros takes a shaky breath. Hort freezes for a second before placing a firm hand on the prince’s shoulder, effectively bringing luminous blue eyes up to meet his own, dark brown ones.

They stop and stare at each other and Hort prays to all the gods above that he won’t find what he fears under Tedros’ cloak.

The Neverboy moves to pull the other boy’s tunic up. Tedros tries to stop him with a hand on his wrist, but his grip is too weak. Hort slowly pulls the fabric up and Tedros hisses in pain as the fabric of his tunic seems to be stuck to his skin.

Hort’s hands come away slick with wet, shiny blood.

For a second the Neverboy is shocked into silence before suddenly roaring, “YOU IDIOT!”

Tedros doesn’t look as ashamed as Hort thought he would, “I didn’t want to slow us down.” he replies steadily, gaze serious.

The prince’s mouth is set into a hard line, but his lip is trembling, determination likely waning from the blood loss. Hort would have killed him in that moment if he wasn’t already dying. Truly.

“HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?” he bellows, not caring at all anymore about who might hear them.

Hort would have kept yelling if not for Tedros blinking once slowly before abruptly tipping over sideways like a maiden from a soap opera, forcing Hort to lunge forward to catch him.

Hort does reach him before his head hits the ground, holding the prince up by his shoulders.

“‘m fine,” Tedros slurs, his head lolling to the side and resting against Hort’s arm. Speaking feels like a monumental task for Tedros right now. There’s a buzzing in his ears that’s getting louder.

“Idiot.” Hort says again, but more quietly, looking at Tedros’ now shuddering body in his arms. He crouches down and sits himself up against a tree, pulling Tedros sideways into his lap, knowing that if someone came across them now, whether it be Ever or Never, they would easily be eliminated.

Tedros blinks up at him slowly, blue gaze shiny and unfocused, “Hort, it hurts.”

“I know, I know. Just let me take care of you now, ok?” Hort whispers softly, once again pulling back the once blue tunic, now stained an ugly shade of red, sticky with half-dried blood.

The sight makes him want to cry in frustration, but he remains quiet. Hort pulls his water flask from his cloak, all the while never letting his eyes leave the long, jagged slash on Tedros’ lower stomach.

He splashes clear water from his flask over the wound and then grabs the bundle of antibiotic plants he had in his pocket for times exactly like these and quickly crushes them into mush before smearing it on the wound and tightly wrapping the bandages around Tedros’ lower torso.

Tedros hisses once at the sting of the paste but remains quiet thereafter, rising to his feet in a shocking feat of strength before giving Hort a shaky thumbs up. The dark-haired Neverboy doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry because he loves Tedros but the prince seems intent on regularly giving him heart attacks.

Suddenly there are sparks lighting up the sky and when Hort and Tedros look up. Ravan, Chaddick and Aric’s names all disappear from the board, leaving only two.

Hort’s jaw drops open and Tedros’ eyes go wide. It seems strangely anticlimactic. Time seems to stop for a moment before their bodies are glowing gold and everything goes bright.

They find themselves in the clearing before the Blue Forest, Ever and Never students all around them, their peers looking just as surprised. And it does make sense, nobody had known they’d formed an alliance.

The first thing that Hort does, doesn’t surprise Tedros at all, because after a few moments basking in that victory, Tedros needs to do the same thing.

He turns to Hort and he’s already there. Their mouths meet in an insistent press of lips, hot and needy despite the sudden, unexpected snow that had begun falling as soon as the Trial had ended. Tedros digs a hand into the hair at the nape of Hort’s neck, tugging him even closer, bodies flush against each other.

Even with the little gasps of air between kisses Tedros is getting light-headed and has to pull away, tilting his head back to inhale. Of course, Hort takes the opportunity to lick up the side of Tedros’ neck and bite, catching Tedros at just the right moment that his inhale turns into a breathy whine.

That just seems to spur Hort on further, biting and sucking at the blond’s throat. And Tedros just knows he’ll have a hickey from hell the next day. The fact that there are hundreds of eyes on them should have a deterring effect.

But it doesn’t matter because they’ve made it. The Trial by Tale is over. Professor Dovey had healed him and Hort with a wave of that magical fairy-godmother wand. And they would be given the results by Pollux and Castor once the celebrations have ceased.

But with the way Hort is looking right now, Tedros doesn’t ever want to stop celebrating.

Notes:

Confession time (kinda nervous don’t kill me): … I don’t like canon Hort.

I don’t like the way he’s written, so the way I write him is the way I wish he was. Not Sophie obsessed (because that seems to be one of his only two personality traits?), not creepy or whiny, not vindictive or entitled and actually in possession of a backbone.

Plus, a lot of Hort stans I meet don’t seem to like Tedros? Which I find personally insulting because hello??? Deep analysis level psyche and major character development for my King throughout the six books *clap clap*. I also write Tedros a bit differently as well, softer and a little more subby? I don’t know if I can say that lol.

Honestly I would like Hort if he had done something other than try to get Sophie to be his girlfriend. Because I DID really like him in book 1 when he was working to get his father a grave or get his talent stronger! It was admirable and cute!!! But the whole thing went out the window in the rest of the books which I thought sucked.

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed the longest fic I’ve ever written. Ciao!