For a few seconds after she wakes up, Agatha has no idea where she is.
She stares blearily at an ornate mirror, wondering when she'd got one. Or velvet curtains. Or a chandelier. Or-
Agatha turns her head, and finds Dot's face an inch from hers. She jumps so hard she cracks her elbow on the headboard.
Oh, right.
Camelot.
"Ow- Dot, what the hell?"
"Sorry!" Peeps Dot. "Queen Vanessa says we're not to touch you without warning you!"
"You could have said something, instead of just staring at her." comes Beatrix's voice from behind her.
"What are you doing here?" says Agatha blearily.
Dot frowns.
"Don't you have maids in Gavaldon?"
"I have… Callis." says Agatha vaguely. "And Sophie."
"Well, yeah, but don't you have other personal servants?"
"Er… no. My mother prefers my household to be… restricted."
"Cause people can't touch you, much?"
"Something like that." mutters Agatha. The real answer is so that there's less chance of people finding out about her talent, and why she wears the veil.
Dot looks a little suspicious, but her face soon clears.
"Well, here, the King and Queen both have personal servants, which means we prep you every morning!"
The look on Agatha's face must betray her horror, but Beatrix just laughs.
"Not on the same level as yesterday. We just help you dress, go over your schedule, and things like that."
Agatha tries not to look too hostile. Callis usually did that.
"Right." she says, sliding out of bed and onto the plush rug. "What am I doing today?"
"Wedding planning!" chorus Dot and Beatrix enthusiastically.
Agatha looks at their beaming faces.
"...I see."
Whilst they're off choosing her an outfit, Agatha takes the opportunity to have a good snoop around her bedroom. She'd been too tired to bother last night. Now, she can see how ornate it is. Velvet hangings and carved oak wood and gilded mirrors. She's even got a vanity. She'd never bothered with one of them before, especially not one with a marble tabletop.
She wanders over to peer out one of the many high windows, and finds herself staring at acres of forest. She must be facing south, because she'd seen the gardens when they'd come in through the North Gate; huge and manicured, filled with bushes and crystalline lakes. She can't see any water from here, save the river running through the woods.
She watches a fox skirt the perimeter of a clearing, for a while, until she hears Dot and Beatrix returning-
There's a familiar hiss, and Agatha looks down to see a pair of yellow eyes staring at her from under the bed.
Agatha grins. Nice to see a familiar face.
"Hi, Reaper."
It appears someone had remembered to bring him here, after all. Probably Callis.
Reaper leaps up onto the windowsill for some attention, knocking a fancy pot onto the floor. He's got a mouse clamped in his jaws.
"Clever Reap," says Agatha appreciatively, scratching his wrinkly ears. "Resuming your role as Royal Mouser, eh?"
"Is… that your cat?" says Beatrix nervously. Agatha glances at her.
"Yeah. Why?"
"He was terrorising the lords in their meeting, yesterday."
Agatha looks at Reaper.
"Stick to mice, please."
He meows.
"I love your colour palette!" says Dot, reappearing with a dress. "Black, navy, dove grey, red- it's ever so gothic." she lowers her voice conspiratorially. "Kinda matches your magic too, doesn't it?"
"Um, sure." mumbles Agatha, stepping into a high-necked navy gown with silver embellishments that she's never seen before in her life. It seems Camelot are far better at providing a wardrobe than Vanessa is.
"Is it a fashionable thing, in Gavaldon? Countess Jadis wears the same sort of style. I met her at dinner last night, she was with your guard. Captain Baumann? We had a nice chat!"
Agatha, who struggles to imagine Hester or Anadil having a nice chat with anyone, ever, makes a vaguely interested noise. They must want something from Dot. Probably want to make sure she wasn't plotting to murder Agatha, or anything
"Maybe. I think Anadil wears everything better than me, though."
"She's very elegant." says Dot diplomatically. "She's not as tall as you, though!"
Beatrix hands over Agatha's veil.
"You're choosing flowers, today. You get to do the fun bits: I hear Weatherford and your mother are handling the actual logistics of it all."
Agatha, who doesn't correlate the word fun with the phrase choosing flowers, frowns.
"What else do I have to do?"
"Let me see… choose bridesmaids, choose a cake, choose a colour palette, decide on the guest list, decide who sits where, choose your dress, fragrance, nails, jewellery, hair, and makeup, decide on the rings, learn to dance because Vanessa says you can't, get to grips with Camelot's wedding customs, decide on wedding gifts, choose what you want for the meal, learn the names of all the important guests attending, accept well-wishes from nobility and the gentry, an-"
She stops when she sees Agatha gawking at her.
Twenty minutes in, Agatha has decided she takes back what she said yesterday about her new life not being boring.
Wedding planning is inconceivably, brain-numbingly, boring.
"They look exactly the same as the ones you just showed us." Agatha says impatiently, staring at the pale pink roses being wafted in front of her face.
The weedy old man looks affronted.
"I assure you, Princess, they are not! These are Rosalind roses! They're semi-glossy, with distinctive medium green foliage-"
"Yes." Agatha says blandly. "Distinctive."
The florist seems to sense he's being made fun of, and opens his mouth-
"We'll have them." Interrupts Tedros quickly.
Agatha turns to stare at him. Tedros twists his gloved fingers awkwardly.
"Rosalind sounds nice."
"You're choosing them based on what they're called, are you?"
Tedros frowns.
"Well, you're not choosing them at all."
Agatha can't think of a retaliation, given he's right, so she just turns sulkily back to stare at the huge pile of flowers on the table.
The florist looks apprehensively between them. Tedros blasts him with his marble smile and he looks a little more receptive.
"Why don't we have some of that honeysuckle, too? The pink and white stuff."
"The Late Dutch variety?" Says the florist eagerly.
"Er. Is that the pink one?"
The florist droops a little, apparently drained by the idiots who don't know anything about flowers.
"There are several varieties like that, sire."
"Um… whichever you think goes best."
"As you wish, sire. Next, I think I'll fetch the selection we have available for centerpieces, if that pleases your majesty…?"
"Go ahead."
"I thank you."
The second he's gone, Agatha groans and puts her head on the table. She's pretty sure she's hiked up the veil, exposing the back of her neck to Tedros. Oh, the scandal. She'd be high-kicking on the belfry, next. No, it's more that Vanessa hates her doing it, because if you look hard enough, you can see a scar near her jaw.
Only, she doesn't think Tedros will look hard, because he's a lovely polite gentleman.
Also, he's too busy looking at himself in a silver vase.
She'd been more inclined to be kind about him, last night, even if he was stupid and vain. But she'd come down to breakfast to catch the end of an argument with Weatherford (petulant) she'd caught him looking at his reflection twice more (vanity hinging on obsession) and, now, spending an extended amount of time with him has exposed another, even more major, character flaw.
He actually cares about the sodding wedding.
Agatha had expected him to be just as apathetic as her- if not more, now he knows his bride is weird and evasive and doesn't know table etiquette. But no. He'd trotted into the drawing room at precisely 10 o clock (Vanessa had forced Agatha to be early, because the bride is supposed to be enthusiastic) smiled, sat down, greeted the florist politely, and showed some actual interest in the identical flowers being shoved in their faces.
Whereas Agatha is a. having visions of taking scissors to the roses b. wishing Callis was with her c. being grateful Sophie wasn't and d. wondering what was for lunch.
She still hadn't had the opportunity to confront Sophie about dinner last night. She'd already eaten and disappeared by the time Agatha had gotten to breakfast, which smacked of I am avoiding my sister because I know I pissed her off by flirting with her betrothed and making him suspicious about my parentage. It's not as if Sophie is going to be able to charm him into marrying her instead. She isn't the one who gives Camelot the political advantage. Agatha might be dour and grumpy and irritable, but she's a good politician and she'll get the throne, one day.
And, should they find out about her, er, talent, she imagines they'll find some way of making her a very advantageous weapon.
Not cheered by the thought, she lifts her head and snaps;
"You look exactly the same as you did yesterday. What's so fascinating about your mouth?"
Said mouth turns down somewhat.
"Just because you don't show your face-" begins Tedros-
"I know vanity when I see it, sire."
Tedros clenches his jaw. Any positive feelings they had towards each other seem to have withered somewhat.
"You don't get it." He says. "You don't have appearances to upkeep."
Ooh, if only you knew, thinks Agatha sourly. She snorts.
"Don't I?"
Tedros looks doubtfully at her veil.
"Well-"
The door bashes open and the florist is back. Tedros shuts his mouth with a snap and turns back to their wedding flowers.
"Look," says Tedros desperately, two hours, thousands of flowers, and a passive-aggressive argument later. "You were fine yesterday. Can't you just pretend to care?"
"Can't you see my enthusiastic smile?"
Tedros eyes her warily.
"It was a joke, highness." Says Agatha tiredly.
"Didn't you notice his expression?" Demands Tedros, disregarding her previous comment. "Can you even see through that thing?"
"No, I walk into walls on the regular. Yes, I can see!"
"Well then, you must have noticed! They're going to think we hate each other." Presses Tedros.
"They? He is."
"And he is going to go and gossip to all the maids." Snaps Tedros suddenly. "Then the maids will gossip to their families, then their families will go to the market and gossip to the vendors, and before you know it, the entire kingdom will be hysterical and convinced the marriage will be a wreck, just like my parents' was."
Agatha stares at him, slightly shamed and slightly surprised in equal measure.
"But-"
"I'm getting the impression you don't interact with people much." Says Tedros, this time marginally less irritated.
Agatha takes a breath to say she does, thinks about it, and realises she doesn't.
"I suppose." She admits reluctantly. "Usually it's just Callis and Sophie. I don't go to court often, and neither they nor the servants like me."
"What? Why?"
"Use your brain, if you have one." Snaps Agatha absently, then winces, realising she's doing exactly what he'd just asked her not to. "Sorry. Shouldn't have-"
"It's fine." Says Tedros quickly. "It was a stupid question."
"Mm."
He steals another glance at her veil. Agatha doesn't comment, other than to say;
"So, truce?"
Tedros blinks.
"Huh?"
"Truce. We'll both make more of an effort to make sure we project the right image. We can fight or avoid each other as much as we like in private."
For a second, Agatha swears Tedros looks unhappy. Presumably at the prospect of having to pretend to be in love with her. She'd probably be pissed off, too.
He agrees willingly enough, though.
"Alright. Shake on it?"
"Spit?" Says Agatha, mostly just to wind him up.
Tedros looks horrified.
"Absolutely not. Besides, we're both wearing gloves."
"So? Can always take gloves off-"
"You never take them off, dear."
Agatha nearly snarls in irritation as the door opens, and Vanessa swoops through, Weatherford beside her. Agatha's not sure she likes the combination. Weatherford is definitely the real power behind the throne, so the idea of Vanessa getting chummy with him...
"Suppose I don't." She says coolly.
"Why's that?" Asks Tedros. Agatha knows full well she can't give him another woolly answer about not being able to tell him, so...
"Poor circulation." Says Agatha promptly. "How about you?"
Tedros glances nervously over at Weatherford. Agatha rolls her eyes. Yes, Weatherford definitely does the thinking for him.
But then again, nervously-?
"Good manners," Tedros shrugs. "Fashion."
Agatha eyes him for a second, slightly suspicious.
"The rest of the court wear them." She says slowly.
"They take style cues from me, sometimes." Says Tedros, teetering on the edge of preening.
Of course. Well, maybe it was viable after all.
"Naturally." Agatha says dryly. She turns to Vanessa. "Something you wanted?"
It's innocent, but just casual enough to annoy her.
Vanessa forces a smile.
"We're to escort you to lunch, after which you'll resume looking at flowers."
Tedros glances at her.
Agatha says something foul, mentally.
"I can hardly wait." She says, out loud.
"Don't you have anything to do?" Demands Agatha finally, after another painful hour with a determinedly fake-cheerful Tedros. "Any highfalutin kingly duties?"
And it is fake cheer. She's seen it wobble twice today; once, when Weatherford had said something to him as he'd left- she'd tried to eavesdrop, but it had come to nothing- and once after he'd been asked how many thorns he wanted on a single rose. Both times, his pleasantly engaged expression had dipped into something impatient and, frankly, ill-tempered.
Well, it was nice to know he was human, even if he did look fabricated-
Oh, there it was again.
Tedros's jaw twitches a little, his expression shifts, and he looks more sulky teenager than porcelain doll, for a minute.
"Y-es." He says, not entirely convincingly. "But they told me it would be more beneficial if I did this, instead."
"Who's they?"
"My advisors."
"Weatherford and his cronies?"
"Er, yes. Them."
"What do you have to do?" Asks Agatha, genuinely curious. She gets the impression Vanessa doesn't actually do much, and intends to do more than the absolute bare minimum when she gets the throne.
"Just… this and that…" Tedros looks uncomfortable. "Like, signing treaties and approving… stuff…"
"You don't do anything, do you?" Sighs Agatha.
"I do!" Protests Tedros. "I do, I do. It's just…"
He makes a helpless gesture.
"What?"
"Well, I'm… young. And inexperienced."
Agatha, who's been finding this extremely easy to forget, reaffirms Tedros as an inexperienced seventeen year old in her head. She'd spent so long imagining an old man that it's hard to remember he's actually younger than her.
"They let- I mean, I have a say, but they all think I'm foolish and d-" He stops abruptly, for some reason. "Er, dramatic."
"Right." Says Agatha, not particularly surprised, but a little disappointed. "So, what, you think you'll do more as you get older?"
"I hope so." Tedros frowns.
"You hope? Can't you just make them?"
"It's a bit… complicated…" he perks up, suddenly. "You can help me, though! I bet once I've got a Queen to consolidate my power, and there's two of us, it'll be easier, like a team thing-"
Agatha eyes him, suddenly amused.
"You think I'll be able to help you in court?"
Tedros blinks.
"Won't you?"
Probably not. She barely has any sway over her home court and advisors, let alone those of a foreign court, but she feels as if maybe she shouldn't tell him that.
"I don't know." she says vaguely. "I don't know what your court's like."
Tedros shrugs awkwardly.
"They're old. They're all my father's advisors."
"Weatherford's not old."
"Weatherford is a… special case."
Agatha is just opening her mouth to ask how come when the door opens.
"King Tedros." It's the nobleman who'd challenged Vanessa yesterday, Lord Scourie. "There's an… issue that requires your attention. At the gates."
Tedros's porcelain face freezes over.
"Is it like last time?"
There's a note of panic in his voice that Agatha's never heard before.
"Yes, sire."
Tedros stands up abruptly.
"I'm sorry, I've got to see this. Excuse me-"
He dodges past her and makes for the door, leaving almost at a run. Agatha stares, bewildered.
"What happened last time?"
Lord Scourie winces.
"Not my place to say, Princess."
"Oh." Agatha looks at him, for a minute. "Do you know the King well?"
Lord Scourie hastily stops an eye-roll. Apparently he doesn't like Tedros much.
"Er, not really. I was appointed just a few months ago, in fact. Basically all I've done is help prepare for your arrival."
"I see."
Scourie hesitates, hovering in the doorway. He looks rather pink-
"I, er, met your lady in waiting. Today."
Agatha groans internally. Another boy who's going to get utterly obliterated by Sophie.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, she's- she's very lovely. You're very lucky to have her."
"Mm." says Agatha, not really agreeing with that sentiment at the moment.
"She seemed more interested in the King, though." says Scourie, looking rather irritated. "She kept asking about him."
"Did she."
"I thought you'd want to know. Given you're to be his wife, and all that."
Oh, like hell he did. He just wants Agatha to bully Sophie out of her interest in Tedros, so that he'll have more of a chance with her.
Luckily for him, that's exactly what Agatha is going to do.
"Yes, thank you. Speaking of Sophie," says Agatha. "If you've seen her, would you be able to let someone know I'm looking for her? I'll be in my rooms. I think we're done with flowers for today."
He bolts up immediately.
"Of course! I'll go right now. I'll fetch her myself. And bring her. I think she was talking to the other court ladies."
Of course she was.
"...Thank you."
"I'm Hort, by the way."
"Thank you, Hort."
"I'm actually a Baron. Tedros just doesn't know my rank. He's kind of stupid that way."
"Right." Agatha suspects he's not actually a Baron.
"I used to work in the kitchens, and in the stables, I'm a real jack of all trades, but it's made me really strong, stronger than Tedros-"
"Thank you, Hort."
"Oh, right. Okay. Yeah, I'll go now-"
He bows abruptly, turns, walks into the doorframe, and then goes running off down the corridor.
"Idiot." mutters Agatha. She can't help but take a liking to him, though.
She wonders what he got promoted for.
She glances out of the window, hoping to see whatever Tedros was summoned down for unfolding, but there's no view of the North Gate from where she is. She turns and heads back the direction of her rooms, musing to herself. Whatever it is, it has to be serious.
But the gates are rather public. Perhaps Callis will know what it is, or Hester and Anadil will have heard it from other servants…
But first, she's got a sister to interrogate.