"Aren't you going to be hot?" asks Dot, taking in the all-black outfit as Agatha appears next to her in the Entrance Hall. "It's a lovely day."
Agatha turns to stare at her.
"Oh, right." mutters Dot. Agatha snorts.
"How does that work?" asks Dot curiously as they move towards the steps. "Like, do you feel heat but just not care? Or do you not register it at all? What about cold?"
Agatha shrugs.
"I can tell whether it's hot or cold, but since my body temperature is so high, nothing ever makes much of an impression." she says. "I do best in extreme heat."
Dot's eyes widen.
"So that's why you wear all this black? To try and be as hot as possible?"
"No, I just like black."
"...oh." Dot frowns. "What about extreme cold, then?"
Agatha shrugs.
"I'd like to see, but, frankly, I've never been anywhere cold enough to make an impression on me."
"Snow? Ice?"
"I just melt it."
"Aww. That's such a shame."
Agatha makes a vague noise of assent. She's never seen the point of snow. It's just inconvenient, and it doesn't look that nice.
They reach the bottom of the steps and are joined by Callis and Beatrix, who are, oddly, muttering together. Agatha can't help but thank her lucky stars for the conspicuous absence of Vanessa-
Oh.
Agatha turns away bad-temperedly when she sees Sophie lurking at the back. It hadn't occurred to her that Sophie would have to sit with them, as well.
"Agatha-" Sophie starts towards her-
"So," Agatha cuts loudly across her. "What are we doing today?"
"Like I said, going to watch a celebratory tournament." says Beatrix brightly. "It's not hard, all you need to do is sit in the royal box and clap when people win, and it's not even as if you'll have to school your expression. Just wave and clap and sit up straight."
Agatha, who thinks that sounds suspiciously like parades she's had to go to at home, isn't convinced.
"Right." she says. "Er, where is it?"
"Just in the grounds, we can walk there." says Beatrix brightly. "Come on!"
She sets off, and Agatha hurries to catch up with Callis.
"Where's Vanessa?"
"She's meeting us there." jumps in Sophie, rushing up to walk next to her. "Agatha-"
"Of course you know, lapdog." snarls Agatha, and barges past her.
Dot was right; it is a lovely day. Despite the constant, irking presence of Sophie bobbing along behind her, Agatha can't help but enjoy the sun beating down on her back as they make their way through manicured gardens and reflecting pools. Whatever Dot and Beatrix have given her to wear, it's a lot lighter and looser than her usual clothes, so, hopefully, she's not going to stop breathing properly thanks to the corset/veil combination and faint in public, like she's done before.
Callis has pulled forward to walk with Beatrix- what are they talking about?- and Dot is too slow a walker to keep up with Agatha, so she's forced to walk alone with nothing to distract her from Sophie's huffing as she hurries along, trying to keep pace with her-
Eventually, Agatha gets fed up.
She stops, motions for Dot to keep walking, and wheels on Sophie.
"Is there something you want?"
"Yes!" says Sophie, immediately. "I wanted to say-"
"You want to come crawling back, now Tedros has made it clear he's not interested? Is that it? You're here to grovel?"
"I- Agatha, listen... I was wrong to say what I said."
"Which bit?" demands Agatha, setting off after the others again.
Sophie cringes, hurrying after her.
"Well, all of it, but especially the bit about-"
"This?" Agatha plucks impatiently at her veil.
"Yes. It was just cruel-"
"You're going to deny you made that bet with Mother, then?"
Sophie's mouth tightens.
"No. I did. I'm sorry for it, but I won't deny it." her brows draw together. "When you're with her, she has a way of making you think it's okay-"
"Wow, does she? Tell me, where was she when you repeated it to me, then?"
Sophie doesn't reply immediately. Then she says;
"I didn't mean it, Agatha. I was only doing what she told me to do because I was jealous. I let Mother exploit it."
"Jealous." mutters Agatha, bashing a shrub out of her way. "Jealous."
"You've seen him! You've seen this place! You're going to be mistress of all of this, there's no way I couldn't be at least a little-"
"You've always had everything!" barks Agatha. "She even wanted to make you heir!"
"I shouldn't have told you that, either-"
"And now you have the audacity to be jealous of me over something I didn't even ask for?"
"Yes!" cries Sophie. "You know how envious I get, I can't help it, but I promise I'll make it right-"
"How? By cozying up to Mother the second I'm gone?"
Sophie grabs her arm, then swears and lets go. She never remembers how hot Agatha gets when she's agitated.
"Ow- yes! As your inside man, yes! I'll tell you everything she's saying, I'll make sure she doesn't get in your way, I'll play the part of the perfect daughter. But really, I'll be on your side. I'll be your biggest fan. I'll help with the wedding, everything, just please let me apologise for this."
Agatha grinds her teeth. It's tempting, and she has to admit she misses Sophie's company when she's not there, but after everything that's happened over the last few days... she's not feeling very generous.
"What made you change your mind?" she asks tersely. Sophie frowns.
"You're my sister. I don't want to hurt you."
Agatha nearly scoffs, but all she says is;
"We're half-sisters."
Sophie looks hurt, and she sighs.
"Prove that you're not going to carry on acting like Mother's pawn, and I'll think about it."
Sophie perks up.
"I won't let you down, Aggie!"
"I'm not so sure." says Agatha grimly, and goes to catch up with Callis before Sophie can reply.
The tournament is being held in the centre of a cluster of blue and gold striped tents. Agatha looks at them with interest as they approach- it reminds her of a festival, or a circus.
She looks at Callis.
"Do you know what happens here?"
"No idea." says Callis. "I suppose we'll find out."
Agatha frowns.
"Then what have you been talking to Beatrix about?"
"Tedros." says Callis, seemingly truthfully.
"Tedros? What about him?"
"None of your business, nosey." says Callis cheerfully, tugging at her veil. "You wouldn't care, anyway."
Agatha, who's fairly sure she would care, frowns.
"...okay?"
A few guards meet them at the gates, and they're led through a maze of striped fabric.
"Where's Hester?" Agatha asks, not seeing her familiar scowl underneath the helmets. Callis shrugs.
"Maybe she went ahead."
Agatha looks around for her, but finds herself distracted by the sheer number of people around her. Mothers dragging their children away from stalls selling sweets, teenagers clustered together excitedly, young couples, old ladies haggling over the price of spiced cider or toffees-
"Is everyone invited to this?" she asks.
"Yeah!" says Dot brightly. "The whole kingdom can come, if they like. It's a big event, people love a good tournament." she grins and raises her eyebrows. "Especially if the King is competing. Improves the view."
Agatha decides to ignore the comment, following Callis and Beatrix up a rickety wooden staircase, which leads into one of the tents.
"He's popular with the people, then?"
"Ooh, yes! You should have heard the wails of disappointment when they announced he was officially betrothed. But they seem to like you just fine, so most people must have gotten over it. Everyone else not hoping to marry him has always been fond, though."
Agatha wonders what he could have done to win such adoration.
They're guided through the tent, and directed out of the other side, into a high, shaded box lined with seats. Two carved wooden chairs dominate the centre of the box, while the rest is lined with benches. Agatha, supposing they're intended for Tedros and maybe an advisor, turns towards one of the benches- until Callis prods her in the back.
"The second one is for you. Sit down."
"Oh- right. I'll just-"
Reluctantly, Agatha does as she's told, and practically the second she's sat down, cheering erupts from the audience already seated in the stands below them. Agatha tenses.
"Er, is that-"
"Yes, it's for you. Wave." sighs Callis, plonking herself down on the bench to Agatha's left. Agatha can't help but notice Vanessa, who's just entered behind them, looks irritated to see Callis has already taken that spot. Apparently she's intending to play the role of the doting mother, today. Shame she doesn't want to play it every day.
Sighing, Agatha waves half-heartedly- then notices Callis glaring at her, and remembers she's supposed to be making an effort. She sits up straighter and tries her best to look more enthusiastic.
Looking around, though, it's easier than she'd thought; there's lots of things to interest her. The royal box is hung with a banner bearing the dragon crest, and a huge display of flowers has been deposited at the base of it, presumably to celebrate the advancing wedding. The seating surrounds a long, rounded ring, strewn with sawdust. There are tents at the west of it- presumably where the competitors will emerge from- and Agatha can hear horses whinnying. Pages scamper back and forth over the ring, and she can hear shouts and orders from inside the tents.
There's a movement from behind her, and Agatha turns to see Anadil seating herself on the bench just behind Callis. Agatha leans eagerly over to her, relieved; she's hardly seen Anadil at all over the last week, and she's missed her. More than anything else, when she's around Anadil, she feels more at ease- Anadil's cool, calm attitude and her flawless appearance makes Agatha feel more legitimately royal. She looks every inch a Countess in her high-necked black gowns that contrast with her white hair and alabaster skin. Agatha will be glad to have her in her court when she's Queen.
"Anadil-" she begins, then frowns. "What do you look so pleased about?"
For while she's as po-faced as ever, Agatha can't help but notice the savagely anticipatory gleam that's come into her red eyes.
"You'll see." Anadil says calmly, but this is as close to smiling as Anadil ever comes in public, and Agatha is instantly suspicious. There's only one person who ever has this effect on her.
"... where's Hester, Anadil?"
"I said you'll see." repeats Anadil. "They're about to begin, now."
Agatha stares at her. If Hester is involved in this, somehow, and it's a competition-
There's only one thing Hester would compete in.
"Anadil. They're not… fighting, in this tournament, are they?"
They are.
The Gavaldon delegation (minus a nonchalant Anadil) gawk, aghast, as an unconscious knight is dragged from the ring, bleeding in several different places. His competitor makes a victory lap, roaring in triumph and holding the bloody mace he'd beaten the other man with aloft.
"This is what you do for fun?" splutters Agatha to Dot and Beatrix.
"Pay attention, he's paying homage to you!" scolds Beatrix.
"He's what-"
Agatha whips back to the ring, to find the knight kneeling before the box.
"He wants you to acknowledge his victory." murmurs Dot. "Raise your hand or something."
Bewildered, Agatha does as she's told. The knight beams in triumph, exposing bloodied teeth from where he'd been punched in the mouth, and bows deeply to her. Then he goes marching off, waving to the cheering crowd, and the usher comes out to announce the next pair to duel.
Agatha looks at Beatrix.
"How many of these duels are there?"
"Mm, a fair few," says Beatrix brightly, flipping through the programme. "Half a dozen? Then we're onto the melee, which is like, a bunch of people fighting at once, until there's one winner, and then-" she grins. "It's jousting. There's a bunch of stuff afterwards, too, but-"
"Let me guess, that's what Tedros is doing?" guesses Agatha, eyeing her expression.
"It might be."
Agatha looks between her two maids.
"And… are you going to tell me what it is?"
"Nope!" they chorus, and turn back to the ring.
It's not all as horrifying, though.
"This is just embarrassing." Agatha groans to Callis, watching the two spindly, scrawny knights swinging daggers at one another half-heartedly. "Who forced them to fight?"
"Probably got rich fathers who want to improve the family's standing." mutters Callis, as one of the boys trips over his own trailing cloak and goes sprawling in the dust. His opponent stands there dumbly.
The crowd boos. A man in one of the lower boxes has his head in his hands. The other one is shouting;
"STAB HIM, WILLAM, YOU USELESS GIT, HE'S RIGHT THERE!"
Willam, to his credit, does try, but his opponent kicks him in the knee and he goes tumbling to the ground, as well. The booing increases in volume. The usher starts counting down;
"TEN… NINE…"
Willam drops his dagger and aims a punch at his opponent. The other boy responds in turn, and they resolve to brawling on the floor. The booing increases, and someone hurls a paper cone of hazelnuts at them.
"What's he counting down to?" asks Agatha.
"Until they declare it a truce, because neither can win." whispers back Dot. "They usually call these ones off fast, because everyone hates them."
"...ah."
A horn blows, and squires rush in to yank the still-brawling boys apart and drag them back towards the tents.
The next duel is just as bad, but for different reasons. The two knights spend at least five minutes prior to the duel professing their love for various ladies in the crowd, while the crowd mutter and yawn, unimpressed.
"I thought they'd like this sort of thing." says Agatha, confused. Beatrix grins.
"Usually they would, but everyone knows about these couples. They're old news in court, and they do this every time. People want some new material."
"Oh." Agatha sits forward as the horn is blown to start the new match. "Well, are they any good at fighting?"
"... depends what you class as good at fighting, really." says Beatrix.
Agatha sees what she means when the two are carried away, groaning, less than two minutes later. Their shared tactic seems to have been whale on opponent with large club, disregard self-defence, hence why they both managed to get wiped out within ten seconds of one another.
The crowd are laughing and cheering, though. They seem to be something of a constant presence at these things, because several people are waving banners with their crests on.
"Don't any actually good people fight these duels?" asks Callis despairingly.
"Doesn't appear so." mutters Anadil.
"All the skilled knights want to participate in the melee." says Beatrix. "You can prove yourself better. It's up next, you'll see what I mean."
The melee consists of twelve knights, picked from a variety of families, clans, and even countries. They stand at specific points, spaced out around the ring, and wait to be announced.
"The rules are different in different places." Beatrix supplies as Sir Bastain is announced to the cheering audience. "We fight it on foot, and the only rule is don't kill anyone on purpose, so the weapons are slightly blunted. Last man standing wins."
Agatha, who has decided to give up on being shocked, just nods.
"Right." she leans forward to get a proper look at the knight stood below them. "Is that a woman? Funny, she looks like-"
"Representative from the Gavaldon delegation, Captain Baumann!"
Agatha's jaw drops. Hester lifts the visor of her helmet and grins her shark's grin at them.
Agatha starts to protest- and then is immediately distracted by Anadil, who's just whipped a scarlet handkerchief from somewhere, and is now throwing it down to Hester, looking far too pleased with herself. Hester bows to her and tucks it into her gauntlet. The crowd screeches with excitement. It's clear they love pretty much anything to do with their future Queen. Agatha isn't sure how she feels about that.
"Are you both mad?" she splutters as Anadil sits back down, cackling quietly to herself. "She's going to get mauled!"
"I don't know if she is, you know." muses Callis. "You saw Hester fight that man who tried to grab you. Nearly broke his skull. What weapon has she chosen- ooh, knives."
Agatha prays that Hester isn't going to get her skull broken.
"Oh ye of little faith." smirks Anadil. "Don't be a pessimist, Agatha. She's probably going to win. Look at all the weedy little boys she's facing."
Agatha is pretty sure she's exaggerating- while Hester is muscular, they're all just as muscular, and taller, and have weapons ranging from flails to battleaxes to morning stars.
She'd better be just as good in a melee as she is in single combat.
She is.
After Hester has flattened three knights and is relentlessly pursuing a fourth, Agatha is cheering along with everyone else. The rest of the knights had made the fatal error of not eliminating her immediately, which meant she'd had time to sneak up.
Rookie mistake, really. Even Agatha could do better than that, though she supposes she's had practice, fighting with Hester.
They've caught on, now, but it's too late.
She barrels into this new opponent, sending him sprawling- he'd been too fixated on the knight wielding a morning star, and presumably hadn't expected to be attacked by someone else. Then she ducks someone else's swing gone wild, steps on the first knight's throat, and bashes his helmet with the hilt of her sword. He does not get up.
"She didn't kill him, did she?" whispers Agatha to Callis.
"If he's unconscious for more than a few minutes, probably."
Thankfully, with the support of the pages who come to retrieve him, he does manage to totter away. Agatha is sure Hester looks disappointed, and curses her inability to follow even the most basic rule of don't kill people.
Someone particularly brave makes a swing for her with a mace, but Hester merely sidesteps, and, whilst he's off-balance with the force of the swing, jabs the point of her blade into the soft tissue at the back of his knee. Everyone whoops as he goes down on his face in the dust. His mace, still carried by the velocity of his attack, skitters across the battleground and nails someone else in the ankle. He yells and falls. The crowd ooooh. Hester cackles.
"She," sighs Agatha. "Is having far too much fun."
"Get him in the neck." hisses Anadil from behind her.
Hester wins, obviously. Agatha doesn't know why she bothered doubting her. Shaking her head, she claps along with everyone else as Hester laughs and waves and receives her money.
"This is the big reason she was willing to come with you." says Anadil as the ring is cleared of swearing knights and fresh sawdust is sprinkled over the blood. "Camelot has a much bigger knight culture than at home, she can show off."
"Glad to know her devotion to me runs deep." sighs Agatha, as pages carry out a wooden barrier to the centre of the ring. Another is tottering about with an armful of spiked wooden lances, dropping half a dozen at opposite ends of the fencing that's been put down. She frowns.
"What's this for? What's next?"
She immediately regrets asking it, because her two maids swivel to face her, eyes anticipatory.
"Oh." she grumbles. "Is it-"
"Tedros is next." grins Beatrix.
And so he is.
Agatha is tempted to cover her ears at the volume of the cheers, as two fully-armoured knights emerge from the tent, both on horseback and carrying their helmets under their arms.
Tedros smiles and waves indulgently, charming as ever. His companion, a burly, grey-eyed knight who Agatha thinks she's seen hanging around with him before, snorts and leans over to mutter something to Tedros. Tedros grins at him, and then they break off, each taking an end of the fencing, on opposing sides. Tedros is closer to them, and Agatha gazes at him, confused. She can't see how this is going to work; what are they going to do, ride at each other? That can't be safe. Having said that, nothing today seems to be safe. But what's the objective? And what have those lances got to do with anything-
She's so busy puzzling over this, that she doesn't notice Tedros's expression until he shifts a little. He looks as if he's listening to the announcer introducing the match, but she can see the tiny frown on his face and how tightly he holds his horse's reins. He almost looks… nervous.
Why? This seems exactly the sort of thing he'd be good at.
Absently, Agatha looks around for some kind of clue about what he's about to do, and notices Hester lurking by the entrance to the tents, presumably to watch. She's threading Anadil's red handkerchief through her fingers absently. The crowd are murmuring, bored-
An idea comes to Agatha. The crowd are bored, she's just sitting here, Tedros looks nervous, and- well, she did promise to make an effort.
Hastily, she whips her handkerchief from her pocket, relieved she'd deigned to bring her nice, embroidered one instead of the one with burn holes in, and stands.
Immediately, everyone's heads swivel to her- even Tedros, who must have seen her move out of the corner of his eye.
Relieved she doesn't have to try and look adoring, given she's sure she's every shade of scarlet it's possible to be, she leans over the barrier and throws it down to Tedros, like she'd seen Anadil do.
Tedros catches it easily, tucks it into his gauntlet and obviously, the crowd goes absolutely insane.
Burning with embarrassment, Agatha flings herself back in her chair and resists the urge to scream, hide, or both.
She can hear Callis laughing, which isn't helping. She hopes she doesn't accidentally set herself on fire. Last time she was this embarrassed, she torched her stockings-
She realises Beatrix is grinning up at her.
"What do you want?" she demands.
"Knew you had it in you, sweetheart."
Agatha growls, irritated.
"Alright, very funny. I've done my bit. Now tell me how the hell this game works."
"With pleasure." says Beatrix cheerfully. "See those lances?"
"Yes."
"They're made to be brittle. You get three each, and you have to try and break them on the other person." explains Beatrix as Tedros and his opponent circle back around to pick up another lance. "Whoever breaks the most wins, but if you knock the other person off their horse, you automatically win. And if you don't break any… er, you're no good at it, basically, and you both lose. But Tedros and Chaddick are both really skilled, they always get hits in."
"What?" cries Agatha, aghast.
"No one usually gets that badly hurt." says Beatrix, but she doesn't sound very convinced.
"Tedros got his shoulder put back in place really quickly, last time." contributes Dot brightly.
Agatha stares at them, back to being horrified. A melee was one thing, duels another, but this was just barbari-
"ROUND ONE!" bellows the usher, and Tedros and Chaddick both jam their helmets on.
"Oh my god," breathes Agatha. "He's going to die before we even get married."
"You sound disappointed." says Anadil. "Are you feeling alright?"
The first round, they both get a point- Chaddick catches Tedros's shoulder, and Tedros catches Chaddick's hip, and both lances shatter on impact. Agatha, who had been distracted by how fast they were riding, jumps so hard at the impact that she hits Callis. Callis just catches her wrist and directs her arm away.
"Hmm." she says mildly, as they turn at opposite ends of the fencing, and squires bring them new lances. "Looks like they were both aiming to knock the other off."
"Why would they?"
"Instant win, isn't it?" grins Callis.
Chaddick is at their end, now and makes a big show of bowing to Agatha. Tedros takes the new lance with some enthusiasm, which makes people cheer, and Agatha, fairly sure she's not supposed to encourage this, makes a dismissive gesture at Chaddick, which makes them laugh. Perhaps this whole thing isn't so hard. It's not as if she has to smile, or anything.
The second round begins, and this time, it's only Tedros who gets a hit in- splintering the lance right in the middle of Chaddick's chest with a painful sounding impact, whilst Chaddick's goes wide over his shoulder. The cheering gets louder, and Tedros is facing them rather expectantly when he reaches their end again-
"STOP PEACOCKING AND GET ON WITH IT!" shouts Callis. The crowd laughs, and Tedros raises his hands in defeat and takes the third lance. Agatha has to admit, this whole thing is a good opportunity to play a part.
She's just getting used to the concept of jousting when the final round starts. Interested to see who'll win, she leans forwards. Possibly it'll end in a draw, given neither look as if they're willing to yield-
They meet in the middle.
There's the screech of armour, the crash of splintering wood, Chaddick's horse whinnies in panic-
Tedros catches the lance in the centre of Chaddick's chest. It hits, doesn't break, and it knocks him backwards.
He tumbles back, momentarily catches and dangles in the stirrups- his horses rears- then falls clean out of the saddle and lands with a crash in the sawdust, where he lies groaning.
The crowd bellows in triumph. The Gavaldon delegation all shout in shock.
"Oh my god, is he okay?" splutters Agatha, but it's mostly drowned out by the ecstacy of the townspeople below, who are roaring as Tedros yanks his helmet off and holds his lance aloft in triumph.
"Probably." says Anadil. "I mean, he's moving."
Tedros hands the unbroken lance to a squire and dismounts, striding over to where Chaddick is coughing on the floor. Laughing, he offers him a hand up, and Chaddick totters to his feet, cursing him so loudly that even they can hear it. He's holding his shoulder- Agatha wouldn't be surprised if it's dislocated. Tedros just snorts and claps him on the back, leading him over to where medics are streaming from the tent.
Beatrix and Dot are cheering, obviously. Looking down the rows of benches, Agatha can see that Sophie looks rather shocked, and Vanessa is lurking under a parasol, smiling indulgently and waving at random passers-by. Anadil rolls her eyes as Tedros heads back over towards them-
"Pre-planned." says Callis from beside her, distracting Agatha from whatever Tedros was doing for a moment. "No doubt about it. He had to win in front of you. Were you in on it?"
"Me?" splutters Agatha. "Absolutely not. You?"
Callis smiles.
"No, I just felt the urge to heckle. Well, they were probably glad for our contribution. Made them look more heroic, didn't it?" she cuts herself off. "Why, hello."
Agatha follows her gaze-
And jerks back in shock as Tedros swings a leg over the edge of the barrier, perched nimby on the edge of the box.
Did he just climb-
Then Agatha notices what's in his hand, and realises why the crowd are besides themselves.
He's taken a rose from the display and climbed the box to give it to her.
Agatha lurches to her feet- then meets his earnest gaze and freezes..
Never in her life has anyone ever lavished her with this much romantic attention. Or any, in fact. Staged or not, she finds that in the face of it, she has absolutely no idea what to do with herself. This is the sort of thing that would never happen at home, and now she finds herself at an utter loss.
"What are you... doing?" she croaks.
Tedros laughs.
"What, I'm not allowed to secure my fiancée's favour upon my victory?"
"Er-"
Then the sound of cheering reaches her again, and she remembers herself.
Hastily, Agatha reaches out to take it, trying to look enthusiastic. He's very close, and very sweaty. She can hear his breathing, still laboured from the match, and his shin is jammed against hers where he's thrown his leg over the side. She can smell a weird mix of something woody and sharp, mingled with a paint-like, slightly chalky smell, plus sweat and some kind of perfumed oil. She crushes the thought and takes the rose from him-
And, immediately, has to stop herself from recoiling.
When her hand had brushed his gauntlet, she could have sworn it was… hot. She'd felt it burn.
But that was impossible. She didn't feel burning sensations from heat, ever, and there was no way he could possibly be that hot.
Mind racing, she at least has the presence of mind to tuck the rose into her headdress. Tedros beams, pleased-
Then takes her hand and kisses it.
There it is again. But this time, she focuses on it. No, it's not heat. She knows what heat feels like, and it's not this- this is sharper and less familiar.
She can't be sure, because it's never affected her before, but it has to be-
Cold?
Confused and slightly dizzy from too many changes at once, Agatha looks up, meeting Tedros's gaze-
And realises there's blood on his face. The impact of the first hit must have been more than they'd thought, because he's got a nosebleed.
"You're bleeding." She says.
"Hmm?" Tedros clearly isn't paying attention. Agatha puts her hand to his face to point it out to him, then hears the cheering and realises how that looks. Awkwardly, she pulls her hand back and clears her throat.
"Give me that handkerchief back, you've got a nosebleed."
"...Oh!"
Tedros digs in the fastening of his gauntlet and produces it. Agatha pulls a face.
"Yeah, I'm not touching that. Lean forward and pinch your nose."
"I know what to do." Says Tedros vaguely, looking closely at her.
"Do it, then, because you're getting blood everywhere."
Tedros blinks. Then he laughs, but he does do as he's told, making a quick dismissive gesture to the crowd to assure them he's unhurt.
"I'll go and get changed, then I'll be back. I want to watch the archery with you."
He drops down to stand opposite her, smiles, bows to them, and saunters off.
Agatha sags back into her chair. Heart pounding, she watches him go.
Return he does, not even fifteen minutes later, armour gone and no longer bleeding.
"Don't suppose you want this back?" He offers, dropping into the seat next to her and holding up her handkerchief. Agatha, who has always had hers made in black, so singes don't show up, thinks that's a step too far even for her. Blood and sweat.
"Yeah, absolutely not. Thanks for offering."
"Fair enough." Grins Tedros. Then he frowns at her. More specifically, at her veil.
"Aren't you hot in that?"
"Not particularly. You were just riding around in a suit of armour in the blistering sun, I could ask you the same."
"...true." admits Tedros thoughtfully. He doesn't answer the question, though. Agatha can't help but notice that he's wearing gloves, again.
Her thoughts drift back to that spike of cold. Had it just been once, she probably could have passed it off as a weird sensation, or her powers doing odd things as a result of her being embarrassed. But twice… twice was no coincidence.
Watching the archers below, Agatha finds herself wondering about those drinks. Were they doing something to him? Something magically nefarious? Perhaps they weren't medicine. Perhaps they made him ill. That would explain why Beatrix had warned her not to drink it, and why Vanessa, old cow, would have given it to Agatha. Still, it didn't make sense. Weatherford was overly-solemn and rather pompous, but his devotion to Tedros was pretty clear, and it seemed unlikely he'd be deliberately poisoning his King- even if he was just using Tedros as a pawn, a pawn was no use dead. Similarly, there was no way Vanessa wanted Agatha out of the way, not now she was about to secure so much extra power for Gavaldon. And anyway, Tedros has looked ill before he'd drunk it, not after.
She peeks over at Tedros out of the corner of her eye. He looks fine- serene, in fact- apart from faint bloodstains above his mouth, though he is holding the armrests of his chair tightly.
Bewildered, Agatha turns back to the archers. None of this makes sense.
Beside her, Tedros sighs quietly and wedges his foot against the barrier.
"Why has no one got a bullseye yet?" he complains.
She ends up walking back with him, because everyone else abandons her the second he turns up. Just her luck.
She watches Callis and Beatrix hurry off, glancing over their shoulders at them, and resolves to get Callis back later.
Tedros frowns.
"I don't think your nursemaid likes me."
Biting back a you're right, Agatha shrugs.
"She doesn't like many people." she says, which is true. She notices Tedros looking carefully at her. "What?"
"Oh, nothing. She hasn't... mentioned me to you, has she?"
"No." says Agatha. "She doesn't talk about you."
Not unless Agatha forces her to speculate about him, anyway.
"Oh! Alright."
"Should she have mentioned you?"
"No, no, I was just thinking that if she didn't like me-"
"She doesn't waste thought on you." Agatha reassures him, then winces. "That came out wrong."
"Oh, no, I- get what you mean."
Any chemistry between them has been well and truly dissolved, and they walk in an awkward silence for a few metres, keeping a careful distance from each other-
The silence is broken by a shout, and Agatha turns to see the knight Tedros had duelled earlier jogging up to them.
"Can't even wait for your injured mate, Tedros? Reprehensible."
He wedges himself into the space between them and smiles at Agatha brightly.
"Greetings, fair lady. I don't think we've been acquainted. I think that's his fault."
Tedros grins.
"Agatha, this is Sir Chaddick, my knight."
"Your best knight." corrects Chaddick. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your fiancée?"
"Why?" says Tedros. "You know who she is."
"No manners." tuts Chaddick. He turns to Agatha and seizes her hand, bowing briefly. "I do know who you are, but I'm pleased to meet you anyway."
"I suppose I'm fairly distinctive." concedes Agatha cheerfully, prying her hand out of his grip. Chaddick grins, hefting a bundle armour over his shoulder.
"A little, a little. You know what she looks like under that, Tedros-?"
Tedros splutters-
Agatha saves Tedros from answering, because she's just noticed which arm he's using.
"Why, Sir Chaddick." says Agatha mildly. "Your shoulder has healed remarkably well." Chaddick looks down at his supposedly injured arm, then looks at Tedros, dumbstruck.
So Callis's theory was right, thinks Agatha.
"Um-" says Tedros, but then Chaddick starts to laugh.
"She's good, she's good!" he laughs, pointing at her. "Well, we couldn't have him look bad in front of his lady love, could we? So we cooked a little something up."
Tedros scowls.
"I'd have won regardless." he tells Agatha adamantly. Chaddick snorts.
"Maybe. But it required an awful lot of skill on both our parts to pull it off, so do I get a handkerchief as well, or-"
He looks hopefully at Agatha. Agatha can't help but laugh.
"Don't have another one. Fight over it."
"Gladly!"
"Oh, give over, Chaddick." grumbles Tedros, speeding up and yanking Agatha along with him. Chaddick doesn't bother to follow, but his laughter pursues them up the hill regardless. Agatha, slightly cheered, has to grin as well.
But the second they're out of earshot and view of anyone else, Tedros turns on her, bewildered.
"Why couldn't you have done that from the start?"
Agatha sighs, but doesn't bother asking him what that is. She knows.
"We weren't in public."
"Oh, I know-" Tedros looks quickly around, then leans towards her. "You know we're going to have to maintain it constantly, now? It can't look like we're acting one way in public and another in private, rumours start."
"But we are."
"I know we are! But we shouldn't be!"
Agatha grits her teeth. She knows he's right, and, frankly, she should have started long before this.
"Alright. I will, I promise." she pauses. "What are we doing tomorrow? Anything useful?"
Tedros scoffs, starting to walk again.
"Hardly. We're in the library, learning about all the dignitaries who're going to come to the wedding."
"Ugh, really? How many are there?"
"Too many. I don't even know what half of them look like, though they all seem to know me."
"It'll be all those portraits they send out." snorts Agatha. Tedros nods.
"Mm. Probably. You got one, right?"
"No."
"What?"
"I had no idea what you looked like until I met you. No one told me a thing about you, either."
"Really?"
"For all I knew, you could have been a horrible old man."
Tedros stares at her for a second, dumbstruck with visions of liver spots and varicose veins.
Then he bursts out laughing. Agatha groans. She should have known he'd laugh, he's too vain to do anything else.
"Stop! You didn't get one of me, either!"
She knows that it's because she doesn't have one, but still-
Tedros is laughing too hard to respond, crouched on the path.
"I'll push you in this pond!" threatens Agatha.
"No, no-"
Tedros bats her hands away and falls onto his backside in the gravel instead. Agatha grabs the back of his collar and tries to drag him, he shoves her and tries to get up, she boots him in the back, he staggers off in front of her, and they argue all the way back up to the palace.