Chapter Text
Hort can’t believe he’s stuck babysitting Tedros because the prince has been blindsided by the fact that his mother’s still alive.
To be fair, Hort would have been shocked too, had he found out his mother was alive, or that he even had a mother, but the magnitude of Tedros’ reaction had painted a Shakespearean tragedy all over the walls.
He watches the golden prince from his corner, dark bangs falling across his eyes and partially blocking his vision.
Tedros had been sitting on the tattered green sofa for a while before he’s suddenly launching himself to his feet.
Tedros’ balance falters, and he puts a hand on the wall to steady himself.
“I need…,” he starts.
Hort assumes the sentence will end with “a licensed psychiatrist” but instead Tedros meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles, a bare quirk of his mouth, and says, “A drink.”
It’s so unlike Tedros that Hort lets his guard down.
He manages to pull his own lips into something that imitated a smile, then, too.
“I can do that.”
———
Tedros insists on going outside, onto the moors, towards the lake.
Hort thinks they could have just as easily gotten drunk inside the warm comfort of the cottage, but since Tedros had experienced quite a recent shock, as well as a nearly fatal encounter with zombies, Hort indulges him. Especially since he's been feeling ever so slightly guilty about hoping Tedros would die in said zombie attack.
Now, the two of them are on the far side of drunk, or at least Hort is.
Tedros seems remarkably lucid considering the sheer amount of alcohol he has consumed, sauntering across the grass like someone only as good-looking as he is could manage without looking like an over-arrogant asshole. Hort follows.
He wants to hate him.
And he does, sort of. Just as much as he hates Sophie.
But then again, that’s complicated. Because he knows he loves Sophie, more than he’s loved anyone, ever. So what was his hate towards Tedros really worth anyway?
The prince stops next to the lake and tilts his head back to look at the stars, curls falling away from his face. His head tilts then, towards Hort and he blinks slowly at him. Hort squirms under the scrutiny, tries to remember that he’s built now, too. Tedros is still so much fucking stronger than him, but Hort isn’t so skinny and scrawny anymore. Not even close.
Hort’s chest tightens as he almost unwillingly takes steps closer towards the prince.
“I wish Sophie loved you,” Tedros says, expression unreadable.
Hort’s face feels hot. The embarrassed pain shoots into his chest like a lance. The statement was cruel in the way only Evers could be, because it was completely honest, no sugarcoating or sweet words to soften the blow. Hort knows Tedros genuinely means what he said.
“She doesn’t, but she will.”
“Yeah?”
“I know it,” Hort replies, jaw clenched.
“I look forward to it.”
His words sound so patronizing but the honesty and sincerity in his expression paints a clashing picture in Hort’s head.
Hort sneers anyway, suddenly filled with charged animosity, “You’re so fucking condescending.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s just you,” Hort scoffs, walking closer, “Like you were made to look down on people.”
Tedros looks unimpressed and then he has the gall to roll his eyes. “I can’t control how you think I look at you, no matter how wrong you are.”
“You’re such a fucking bastard.”
Now there’s only a little less than a foot between them.
Tedros sighs, “Why do I even try?”
“Because you’re an Ever. A good fucking person. A person who can love,” Hort says bitterly.
Tedros turns to face him, brow furrowed. “Anybody can love.”
“Sophie can’t.”
“She loves Agatha.”
“She loves you.”
Tedros scrunches his nose. Hort would almost think it’s cute if he didn’t hate the guy.
“She wants me. She doesn’t love me. That’s different.”
“I don’t know. When I fucking watch her watch you…” Hort cuts himself off, he doesn’t want to say it. “It sure as hell looks like she loves you. Not the way she loves Agatha. But it’s love, just different.”
“How can she love Agatha and treat her this way?” Tedros snaps. “I don’t get it.”
Hort is confused. Maybe there were some Ever morals at play here that he didn’t understand.
“She’s trying to steal Agatha’s destiny like it isn’t obvious that Agatha and I are meant to be together. She sees that Agatha is hurting and she goes after me anyway. I don’t fucking get it.”
Tedros runs his hands through his hair, frustration etched into his features.
Hort doesn’t know what to say. Because he wants to defend Sophie, truly. But what Tedros is saying makes sense in the worst way, and he can’t come up with an argument against it.
But then it hits him.
Of course.
Hort closes his eyes, then opens them. Takes a deep breath, releases it.
“She’s overwhelmed by you,” he murmurs finally, “She wants you too much. She wants this idea of ‘happily ever after’ so bad that Agatha is put to the side. I understand her, as horrible as it sounds.”
Tedros sucks in a deep breath, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” His arms fall back to his sides as he appraises Hort. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
Hort crosses his arms over his chest and can only stare at the ground. He hums in agreement. “I love Sophie, and I do dumb shit to get her attention.” Hort lets out a bitter laugh. “Stalked you for a year because I thought if I acted like you, and looked like you, that she would notice me.”
Tedros looks shocked.
“Don’t be so surprised. You don’t recognize your own mannerisms?”
Tedros looks him up and down and pulls a face. “Sorry, no.”
Hort wants to punch him in the face. “You asshole.”
Tedros breaks into a grin and only then does Hort realize that he was joking. He was making a joke. The uptight, prettiest prince of the Evers was making a fucking joke. An incredulous laugh breaks unwillingly from Hort’s throat and he doesn’t know whether he still wants to punch Tedros, or pull him into a hug.
Hort didn’t have any male friends.
Scratch that. Any friends at all.
But this banter…this easy camaraderie, was something he could get used to. Tedros seemed like a person that was easy to talk to. Hort guesses that was just another facet of his charm that he wouldn’t ever be able to replicate.
“I admire you, you know,” Tedros says suddenly. “Building yourself up like that in such a short time, it’s no easy feat.”
Hort is momentarily shocked by the compliment before a swell of pride fills him.
“It wasn’t hard,” he brags.
Tedros levels him with a look. “Yes, it was.”
Hort purses his mouth. He supposes it was kind of stupid to lie to Tedros about this sort of thing.
Tedros tilts his head at him again, like a puppy, or a kitten? Some kind of baby animal. It was very much contradictory to his whole look, Hort realizes. Although that probably only added to his appeal with girls.
“Would you be up for a swim?”
Hort, momentarily surprised, can’t say anything for a few seconds.
“Uh, sure.” He then sighs, “Don’t have anything better to do, anyway.”
Tedros grins, “Attaboy.”
Hort makes a face at him but Tedros just laughs, and is already running towards the lake, throwing his clothes off like it’s a race and Hort can only scramble to follow, chucking off his shirt and kicking off his boots as he chases the blonde prince to the water’s edge.
He hears a splash when he’s taking off his pants and looks up to see a curly head break the surface of the water.
“Come on,” Tedros calls. “What’s taking you so long, pirate?”
Hort gulps, and his heart skips a traitorous beat in his chest. Nobody ever called him a pirate before.
It was always: Weasel or Weakling. Tedros says it casually, like it’s nothing.
Hort has all his clothes off except for his boxers and takes a running leap into the lake. Water envelopes him like an icy sheet, the shock of cold steals the breath from his lungs.
He breaks the surface in a stream of curses, ready to murder Tedros.
“You complete bastard! It’s freezing!”
Tedros is laughing so hard that he momentarily submerges under the water. He’s sputtering when he surfaces and Hort splashes him in the face in due punishment.
“That’s what you get, you pansy!”
“I’m the pansy?” Tedros laughs again. “I believe that would be you, my good sir, whining at a bit of cold.”
Hort throws himself onto Tedros, fully intent on drowning the other boy. Tedros lets Hort take him under without a fight, hands sliding up Hort’s torso.
Hort opens his eyes under the water so he can properly kill Tedros, and he realises that it's remarkably clear because he can see Tedros grinning at him, golden hair floating around his head like a halo. Hort is fucking confused, for a moment. He looks down and almost inhales a lungful of water in his surprise. The bottom of the lake was made up of glowing, white-blue moonstones, illuminating the space like natural lights.
He breaks the surface, sucking in much needed air. Tedros comes up after him, and shakes his head like a wet dog, droplets going everywhere, spattering across the water.
“Come on, giving up already?” Tedros teases, blue eyes glittering in challenge.
Hort narrows his eyes at him. “You want me on you?”
The smile slips from the prince’s face and his lips remain barely parted, eyes half-lidded. “Would that be so bad?”
Suddenly, the atmosphere takes on a charge. There's something crackling between them, and Hort doesn’t feel the cold anymore. Tedros is acting like something that drags pirates to the bottom of the ocean, and that has Hort nervous.
But Hort didn’t run from challenges anymore.
“Maybe not,” he manages, one hand slipping around Tedros to pull him closer. His heart is beating a mile a minute, all that wet, smooth skin is slippery under his hands, and it brings an alarming heat to Hort’s belly as he searches the other boy’s eyes.
Tedros’ gaze is dark and steady.
“You’re infuriating, you know?”
Tedros opens his mouth to reply—
And when Hort surges forward to kiss the reply away from those infuriating lips, Tedros melts in his grip.
“You’re attractive, you know?” Tedros whispers against his mouth. “That’s my excuse,” he adds, and Hort feels the smirk against his lips.
“I guess we both have the same one, then,” Hort whispers back, and nips at Tedros’ lower lip before making his way down his jaw and sucking a deep mark into the vulnerable skin of his neck.
Hort knows his sharp teeth hurt but he doesn’t expect the full-bodied moan that comes when he bites down, tight muscles rippling under smooth skin. He breaks away.
“You like when it hurts?” Hort grins, almost malicious.
“More than I should," Tedros whispers back, elvish smile at the edge of his lips.
Hort kisses him again, aching for more contact, starved for Tedros’ body heat and the way the prince touches him back, strong hand curling into the hair at Hort’s neck.
Tedros must be starved for it too because Hort had expected him to be all cool and composed, taking Hort apart like he’d watched Tedros do to girl after girl. But the prince seems all too affected by the way Hort’s hands are running up his ribs.
This was just the two of them taking from each other. And Hort can't get enough of what Tedros is giving.
The moon shines across the ripples that they’re making in the water and the pier rises dark a couple meters from them, a dainty figure standing on it, cast in shadow.
Tedros curses and breaks away from Hort.
Hort has lost the ability to speak. The cold seeps into his bones like the dread does.
There’s a few seconds of petrified silence.
“What were you two doing?” Sophie almost shrieks.
“Swimming,” Tedros replies, voice remarkably even.
“Looks like you were doing a lot more than that,” she hisses back.
Hort still can’t speak.
“We can’t have fun without Your Esteemed Majesty?”
Hort blinks. Tedros could be as snide and cutting as a Never.
Hell. Hort’s glad his lower half is covered in water.
“No!” Sophie whisper-shouts again.
Tedros swims towards the pier and lifts himself halfway out of the water, propped up on his forearms on the planks. Sophie stares down at him like a captain would at an impudent siren.
“You want to?”