Chapter 2: The King, Not a King- Hort
Hort trudged through the Hall of Kings, paying no heed to the legendary rulers glaring down at him. He felt a strong urge to chuck the heavy weights in his fists at the haloed portrait of the new King. The idiotic buffoon didn't deserve a painting, if Hort said so himself. Even though he'd almost died to put him back on the throne and lost his man-wolf, Tedros still bumbled on with his stupid duties, leaving Hort alone and expecting him to know how to plan a wedding and navigate his way around an Ever palace.
"Some advice would help," he grumbled, forgetting how often he lamented on about not caring for the dumb goat's opinion.
The dumbbells clasped in Hort's hands felt hefty, as though his body had hidden away his memory of working out.
"Just a runty, little, weasel now," he sighed, reminding himself. "Better get buffed quickly or Sophie will be out to get me."
He moved his thoughts to the girl of his dreams. The one who he'd been chasing after for years, who had rejected, betrayed and heckled him. She had even stolen his frog pyjamas back in their first year in the School for Evil. (He still hadn't gotten them back.) He had loved Nicola, but being with her hadn't felt the same as it did when he was with Sophie. He loved every part of her. Her beautiful, good parts, but especially her selfish shades, the witches mistakes. And finally, that girl had come running back to him. He, Hort of Bloodbrook. The scrawny ugly weasel the pirate thugs joked about. That same Hort was about to marry the smartest, prettiest and most-idolized person in the woods. A surge of love ran through his veins and an explosion of butterflies flittered through his stomach.
"Can't be getting too soft," he groused. "Thinking like an Ever, feeling like an Ever." He shivered. "I'm becoming more like Tedros every moment." He paused, sniggering. "Except, I don't have his ghastly hair."
After that, Hort spent the rest of his journey abusing Tedros. Eventually, after turning many crumbling corners, he arrived at King's Cove. He had soon learnt that it was Tedros' ideal place to work out, and though he would never admit it, Hort believed that he should be commended on that smart idea.
Rebuilt and refurbished from the original dirty, smelly, and unkept slum it was, King's Cove was now a paradise. The pool was filled with fresh, aquamarine water, pink lily pads floating above it. An obsidian statue of King Arthur and Excalibur sat, shielded against the light, to replace the old, demolished one. The smooth floor was made from pearly, white marble, almost sparkling like the stars in Merlin's once Celestium.
Hort flung off his new, soft, fluffy slippers and pulled off his navy shirt. Cracking his neck, he began lifting his weights into the air. He looked the equivalent to a mad gorilla throwing a tantrum. After half-an-hour of arm-waving, awkward push-ups, and strained squats, Hort was doused in sweat and was gasping for breath. His tight black breeches clung to his sticky, smelly skin, so he struggled to discard them.
Finally, after much tugging and ripping, Hort stood gingerly in his bright green underwear. He jumped onto the teetering ledge near the end of the pool. Flexing his 'muscles', he grinned, a mischievous glint in his raven eyes. All because he was in a royal castle, didn't mean he still couldn't act like a Never.
P.S. This is not complete yet