Tedros wakes from a restless sleep with the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong. A noise, just on the edge of his consciousness, has woken him. He can't place it, but he doesn't think it was good, not with the way his heart is pounding and his body temperature is plunging so rapidly. It sounded like something sliding, almost like metal and a fabric, similar to what he hears in weapons training-
It sounded like the rasp of steel on leather.
Tedros's eyes shoot open just in time to see the knife plunging towards his chest.
He doesn't scream. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't.
Instead, he does something that, had anyone else done it, would have been indescribably stupid.
He bolts upwards, snaps his hands up, and grabs the knife by the blade.
There's a horrible screeching, cracking sound, and Tedros squeezes, feeling his skin breaking-
With a crash, the knife, hilt and all, shatters into a spray of ice. His attacker recoils with a curse as tiny fragments of ice skitter everywhere
Tedros whirls to face his would-be-assassin, raising bloody hands, palms outwards.
"Don't think that because you've sliced up my hands I can't kill you." he snarls, flexing his fingers, letting his body temperature plunge. A frozen droplet of blood slips from his palm and clatters to the floor. The bloody gashes on his hands have iced over, his injuries ceasing to bleed.
The hooded man gazes down at the quickly melting-fragments everywhere. There's a quiet crackling sound, and without looking, Tedros knows there's ice crawling up the walls and up his bedpost- and up his face.
Then, slowly, his assailant looks up.
Tedros recognises the red eyes glaring at him a second before he speaks.
"I won't lie, I thought you weren't in control of your powers, at the moment." says Ravan coldly, pulling down his hood. "But I don't doubt you can kill me, little Snow King."
Tedros stares at him, slowly lowering his hands.
"Someone let you in?"
"Climbed."
"I see."
They remain still for a moment, at an impasse. Ravan doesn't seem to be armed with anything else, and Tedros will not attack him.
He slowly lets out a breath. It doesn't steam, although Ravan's does.
"If this is about the coronation incident-"
"Of course it's about the coronation." sneers Ravan. "Just because I'm the only one out of your court who knows you're a danger to everyone around you, doesn't mean you're any safer. Don't suppose you've told your lovely bride about your little… talent, have you?"
Tedros clenches his teeth and remains silent.
"More people at risk." Ravan shakes his head. "I know you don't like Hort, but I would have thought you'd have some care for your future wife-"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" snarls Tedros. "I didn't attack Hort on purpose! I lost control by accident, because Weatherford had been plying me with those damned drinks all day! I didn't mean to do any magic, let alone expel icicles, and I certainly didn't mean to put them in the wall by his head. You know what ivy does-"
"And so do you. So why are you taking it?" hisses Ravan.
"I don't have a choice."
"If you convinced them it made you more dangerous, rather than less, they might reconsider."
"They're operating on old research, they won't listen when I tell them that I'm too powerful for it to work properly." says Tedros grimly, slowly shifting to sit on the edge of his bed. "As far as they're concerned, it stops me doing lots of tiny things that might blow my cover, and any big mistakes are my fault."
"They are."
"I used to just get mad when I got mad, not risk killing people!"
The ice on the wall shudders and rises. Tedros looks at it for a minute, then turns helplessly back to Ravan.
"You know long-term exposure to poison ivy only agitates strong magic. Any time I feel any kind of powerful emotion, my magic starts railing against the ivy, and if I manage to suppress it, it makes me ill. If I don't… it explodes, and I can't control it. Hence Hort."
"You could have killed him."
"But I didn't!" Tedros barks. "There wasn't a scratch on him, and he got a massive settlement and a Lordship for his trouble!" he sits forward. "I know you care about him, and I'm sorry it happened, but-"
"We're not here to talk about me and Hort." snaps Ravan. "We're here to talk about your stupid uncontrollable magic."
Tedros clenches his teeth.
"I'll try to stop taking the ivy. They might not let me, and I'll probably have withdrawal symptoms, but I'll try."
"They might not let you? You're the King!"
"You know what they're like." says Tedros coldly.
Ravan merely grunts.
"Glad that nearly being stabbed in the chest has brought your sense back to you."
"Was my old seneschal really about to try and kill me?"
"Camelot would be far safer without you." says Ravan blankly. Tedros's half-smile drops.
Hurt and rather shaken, he looks away.
"Right. Well. There's no one else who could take the throne, so-"
"Anyone would be better than you."
"...sure."
Tedros stands and goes to the window, clasping his hands to stop them shaking. Turning his back on Ravan probably isn't the best idea, but he doesn't appear to have any more weapons, so…
Tedros wipes at the foggy window, but only succeeds in spreading frost across the windowpane. He pulls his hand away and turns unhappily back to Ravan, who's watching him narrowly.
"Tell me what I need to do."
"Get someone to teach you to control it."
"I will." says Tedros, but even as he says it, he's no idea who he could possibly find that would be able to help him.
Ravan, as the son of Thicket Tumble's Camelot ambassador, had practically been raised with Tedros. He knows full well that Camelot's court has spent seventeen years forcing Tedros to oppress his magic, rather than actually learning to use it. They fear backlash from the kingdom, or Tedros being kidnapped by other monarchs to use as a weapon, or even assassinated for fears he would be too powerful in battle. The poison ivy had been a last-minute decision before he was crowned- the first one Weatherford had made as his head advisor.
"They're making me feel ill." Tedros whines, holding the goblet away from him. One of his father's advisors- Tedros still hasn't learned all their names- snorts.
"Well, you've been drinking them every few hours for the past week, and you haven't been sick yet."
"He fainted on Thursday." says Ravan, lurking in the corner in his seneschal uniform. Everyone ignores him. It's not surprising- he's only two years older than Tedros. Most think he's young and foolish. Arthur knew better.
But Arthur is dead, and Tedros is King.
Or he will be, in about fifteen minutes.
"I really don't think it's a good idea." Tedros puts the goblet down on the side table. "That book said it didn't react well to stronger magic-"
"Don't flatter yourself." growls another lord. "You're not as powerful as all that."
"I don't feel in control." says Tedros anxiously, clutching his gloves. "I shouldn't keep drinking it."
"Don't be ridiculous, it's more in control than ever." says the first advisor. "The maids say your room has been at normal temperature all week, not freezing like usual."
"But this morning-"
"It's six nights against one, boy, don't be ridiculous."
"But sir-!"
"Tedros." Weatherford says quietly from where he's sat at the table. "There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of people out there. You cannot put a single one at risk. Please finish the ivy."
This doesn't make Tedros feel better. In fact, he feels worse.
"Ten minutes, your highness." says one of the pages at the door, staring right ahead as if he's not impacted by the chaos in the room.
Frightened, Tedros turns to where Ravan, Beatrix and Dot are standing together in the corner. He can feel panic truly starting to settle in his chest.
"You guys know that it's not good-"
"FOR GOD'S SAKE, LAD!" roars one of the men, finally angry. "DRINK IT!"
"I can't!" cries Tedros. In response, the man gets up in his face.
"DO IT!"
Anger flares, mingling with the fear and resentment already in his chest.
"DON'T GIVE ME COMMANDS!" Tedros shouts
Another of the men seizes him by the scruff of the neck and drags him towards the table.
"Just because Daddy's dead, and you're about to get the crown on your pretty head, doesn't mean you're anything more than a spoiled prince to us-"
"Let him go, please." requests Weatherford. "You wouldn't treat his father this way."
"His father wasn't an arrogant sixteen year old." says the man, but he does drop him. Tedros crashes into the table, bashing his shin and elbow on the leg, and hunches over it, glaring.
"Drink it, please, Tedros." says Weatherford tiredly. "This has gone on for too long. All the evidence suggests it's safer this way, and if you're going to be irresponsible based on a hunch about your own power, are you really ready to be King?"
Tedros stares at him, humiliated, frightened and embarrassed in equal measure-
"His father would be ashamed." whispers someone behind him.
"STOP TALKING ABOUT MY FATHER!"
Tedros spins, furious-
There's a horrible shriek, and everyone is knocked back by the force of the magic that explodes from Tedros's hands.
His gloved hands.
Horrified, Tedros bolts up-
To find the page by the door cowering in the corner, icicles impaled in the wall around him and the man who'd made the comment.
Immediately, Tedros backs away, hands clasped against his chest.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean- I didn't even mean to do anything, I didn't try to-"
"You were right." says Beatrix softly to him. No one listens to her. Everyone is staring with horror at Tedros, including Ravan.
Tears welling, Tedros looks helplessly between them all, hoping for a sympathetic face. Only Beatrix and Dot seem to be willing, and even they look frightened.
"I-I said I thought it was making it worse-"
But now no one is listening, rushing towards the page and the advisor. Neither seem to be harmed, though both have ripped clothes. Tedros thinks he recognises the page as the one Ravan is always hanging around with, and starts forwards-
Weatherford grabs his chin, forces his mouth open, and pours the rest of the ivy down his throat.
"You left before I was even crowned." says Tedros.
"I was angry." says Ravan. "I'm still angry."
"You know I didn't mean to do it."
"Doesn't make you any less dangerous. Once you were crowned, you could have forced them to stop giving you that stuff."
Tedros frowns.
"After Hort, I thought it was the responsible thing to do. I wondered if they were right."
"Even though you knew they weren't?"
Tedros is silent.
"If you weren't drinking it now, you could have broken that knife without slashing your hands right up." says Ravan. Tedros looks down at his bloody hands. They're really starting to hurt, now, and he feels a little lightheaded.
"I know. But it will take months to come out of my system completely." he mumbles.
"Would you rather do something little and stupid at your wedding, like making a couple of ice roses, or would you rather kill someone because you're nervous and your magic is fighting the ivy?"
"...I see your point." Tedros pauses. "Do something for me?"
"Possibly. What is it?"
"My court will notice if I'm trying to learn to control it, and they won't like it. I'd like to give them something else to worry about."
Ravan's red eyes narrow.
"You want me to distract them?"
"If you can. Cause security breaches and things like that."
"Surely they'll tighten the guard on you."
"The fact that you got in here so easily must tell you that they don't bother with guards for me, very often. What use is it, if I'm more dangerous than the guards?"
"...I suppose that's true." Ravan looks down his nose at him. "Well. I guess that's the least I can do, isn't it?"
"You can try to see Hort." Tedros wheedles. Ravan sneers at him.
"Hort's too busy with your fiancé's sister."
"Sophie's not interested in him, and frankly I don't think he's really interested in her, either." dismisses Tedros.
"...hmm." Ravan turns away from him. "Well, I suppose, if in the long run it will make everything safer… I'll do it."
Tedros sags, relieved.
"Thank you- what are you doing?"
For Ravan has turned, and he's holding another knife.
"Well," he says. "If you're meant to have fended me off when I attacked you… there needs to be more sign of a struggle."
"Oh." Tedros looks over at the door. "Yeah, I suppose-"
Ravan grabs Tedros by the hair and smashes his head against the wall.
"I didn't say I'd be nice about it." he hisses.
He drops Tedros, gasping, to the floor and kicks him in the stomach, hard enough to crack a rib.
"I'll leave your face." he says. "For your wife's sake."
He dangles the knife over him, blade down.
"Catch." he says.
Then he drops it and leaps out of the window.
Agatha wakes up to people shaking her, bells ringing, and lots of screaming.
Agatha lights her hand on fire and whirls-
"Who- oh, it's you."
Hester glares at her, face lit in flickering orange light by the flame. Anadil is behind her, Sophie is hovering nearby, and Callis is sitting at the end of her bed.
"Be careful, woman, you nearly set me on fire!"
"What's happening?" demands Agatha.
"Assassination attempt on Tedros." says Callis. "We're not to leave."
"What?"
"He's alive." says Callis quickly. "From what they can tell- which is not a lot, he's a bit concussed and isn't making sense- someone tried to stab him in the chest, and he grabbed the knife, so it's completely torn up his hands. Cracked rib and a huge bruise on his temple. He'll be fine, though."
Agatha stares at her, bewildered at how panicked she feels.
"...when was this?"
"About an hour ago. They're concerned whoever it was might try to target you, next."
"They," snorts Sophie. "You mean Tedros."
"Well, yes, it was Tedros who was worried about that." admitted Callis. "Whilst half-conscious."
"Nice he had the sense to worry about his dowry." says Agatha.
No one laughs.
"I went to see what was happening, and was given the grisly job of binding his hands." she says, and holds up her own bloody hands.
There's an awkward pause.
"It's odd." muses Anadil. "They obviously haven't put enough guards on for him."
"Maybe they want to bump him off." snorts Hester. "The guy escaped, and we've been watching them do a terrible job combing the grounds for him, so maybe it's some kind of conspiracy-"
"He's the only heir." interrupts Callis slowly. "If they were going to kill him, they'd wait until he had children at the very least, to avoid a succession crisis."
Everyone looks at Agatha.
"Ew." says Agatha.
"Didn't you tell Vanessa-" begins Hester.
"Yes, I used it as a bargaining chip with my mother." grumbles Agatha. "Obviously it was just that-"
More screaming erupts from the distance.
"Said mother has probably just arrived on scene." says Callis.
"I love that she's more upset than me." groans Agatha.
"Try and squeeze out a few tears tomorrow, yeah?" grins Hester.
"What's the use?" snorts Agatha. "I just need to sound upset."
"Or... you could express genuine concern, like you just did." says Sophie.
"Or that." admits Agatha. She frowns. "He's just a kid. He was telling me about how it's nearly his birthday, earlier."
"Good to know they're doing such a good job of protecting him, then." says Callis.
Even Hester doesn't seem to be able to find something snide to say to that.
They sit in silence for a long moment.
"Aggie, could you relight the fire?" asks Sophie. "It's getting cold."
"Yeah, the snow's really coming down now." murmurs Agatha, sliding off her bed and finding a couple of logs.
"Maybe the assassin will freeze." offers Sophie hopefully.
Agatha glances out of the window.
"Maybe." she says.
She can't help but wonder.