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iTrapped wasn't expecting Telamon at his door again so soon. He'd just helped Telamon go to the doctor (because the admin was too much of a coward to do it himself) and had supposed he wouldn't see Telamon again for a month at least. His visits were quite sparse, after all.
iTrapped liked it that way. It was a relationship that never felt forced, because neither side was looking for anything. Telamon could easily get back the Darkheart, and iTrapped could just as easily shove him out of his life.
He'd considered doing so multiple times, but never had the heart to tell Telamon to go away. He looked so pathetic every time he saw him, eyes hidden as they were. It was nice to not have to look him in the eyes. He'd heard Telamon's eyes were golden.
Just like Chance's.
He'd been getting back on his feet. Small things, small jobs. Little diplomatic interactions for his family.
He hardly recognized himself in the mirror. He didn't look how he did in his prime. His hair was messy, dull, not the full glorious straw he'd had in his golden years. His eyes were sunken.
His room was trashed. Disgusting. He loathed himself for letting it fall into such disrepair.
Telamon had tried pressuring him into cleaning it, and when he didn't, he'd hired people to do it. iTrapped had been baffled to see cleaners at his door, a clipboard in hand and the statement that Telamon sent them for “crisis intervention”.
iTrapped was not going through a crisis.
So when he'd been staring down at the last happy picture he had with Chance, not that he missed the man, and heard a knock at his castle's door, he jumped to his feet.
His first thought was the authorities.
His second, “That ####ing bird.” He muttered it under his breath.
“What?”
“Telamon would like to invite iTrapped to hunt.”
iTrapped stood, door wide open, gaping at Telamon. That was rich, he thought to himself, very funny. So Telamon finally recognized how much of a terrible person he was, was that what this was about? Was he finally going to die?
But Telamon simply stood there. No sword in his hand. Just expectantly staring at him, with that stupid cocked head of his and those perfect calm wings and those clawed hands clasped in front of him and talons that dug into the ground but never scratched up his floors.
iTrapped hated him with a passion.
“Go away.”
He slammed the door, which promptly bounced back from the force and hit him in the face.
Great.
“Telamon will leave when he pleases and not a second before.”
“That's no way to treat a prince.”
“That’s no way to treat an admin. Don't iTrapped's lot hunt with gyrfalcons?”
“You're not a gyrfalcon.”
“That’s true. He is an eagle.”
“And I don't hunt. I fence. Besides, what are you going to do? Sit on a glove while I feed you scraps of rats? You're too big for that.”
“Obviously not. iTrapped will flush the quarry and he will kill it. He thought that was obvious.”
“I'm not hunting with you.”
He saw the twitch in the fabric of Telamon's face, and before he could retract his statement, it split into pieces. He hated it when Telamon did that, because the rows of teeth embedded into lines of gums with the barest hints of skin and feathers and those eyes in his wings and that single baleful one in the center-
It made him queasy.
It terrified him.
It was also majestic, breathtaking in ways only something from beyond their world could be. Telamon restitched his face, and iTrapped gasped desperately for air.
Telamon, he noted faintly, never treated him like a prince. He'd heard, many times, Telamon muttering to himself about iTrapped's castle and referring to it mundanely. Telamon did not acknowledge such titles as legitimate claims.
“Fine. You stupid birdbrain.”
He'd hoped his insult would ward Telamon off from dragging him out of the doorway and into the castle grounds.
Not so, because Telamon happily grabbed his hand and opened a portal with his free one. That ####-eating grin on his face made iTrapped clench his teeth. It also made his heart pound and his senses go on a strange alert.
But Telamon would never be Chance.
The portal was terrible; he'd always hated teleportation and always would. He hated the fog that took over as his mind struggled to comprehend the method of traversal, hated that lingering nausea that followed him out, hated that every time he did it, he had to keep his dignified appearance.
A prince could not be spotted throwing up after a simple teleport.
Telamon waited, holding iTrapped still in his arms as the world came into focus. That irritating smirk of his, the one that screamed ‘How interesting, the weakness of mortals', was the first thing to greet iTrapped's eyes.
The grounds of SFOTH were stained red. The place reeked of blood and guts, and corpses littered the ground. The sun lay in a permanent sunset over the horizon, and it was blisteringly hot.
iTrapped had never even considered entering such a disgusting place, even after Chance's death. You couldn't even die in SFOTH- of any ailment, be it a sword through your heart or a heart attack. You would just respawn.
Rumors stated that Telamon had unique grounds for those entering to escape the inevitable, but nothing concrete.
“Why does iTrapped turn up iTrapped's nose?”
“It's disgusting.”
“Certainly iTrapped did not expect it to be a vacation home?”
“No.” iTrapped didn't let the frustration into his face or voice, but somehow Telamon seemed to notice it anyways. That bird. “I was expecting a proper hunting trip.”
“This is a ‘proper hunting trip'. iTrapped will chase the swordfighter and Telamon will kill them.”
iTrapped sighed, turned up his nose, and began walking away from the admin. Telamon seemed so intent on making him love him, it was infuriating. And to think, it had been a manageable relationship only a day before!
Telamon placed a single hand on iTrapped's shoulder.
“Do not run.”
iTrapped turned to a dagger pointed at his throat, one made of the same ice that filled his veins and stopped him in his tracks.
“Threatening me is an excellent way,” He said with practiced pentameter, “to get yourself banned from my castle.”
Telamon's smirk fell.
“I don't hunt.”
Telamon looked at him pointedly.
“Then fight.”