PART 2: ICE

Ice burns, and it is hard to the warm-skinned to distinguish one sensation, fire, from the other, frost. - A.S. Byat

"- and I completely respect your decision." says Weatherford calmly.

"Yes, I'm not happy about the iv-" Tedros stumbles to a stop. "...wait, really?"

"Yes." says Weatherford. "I've been expecting this for a while, to be frank."

"...oh." Tedros feels rather foolish. All of his carefully constructed arguments are suddenly rendered redundant. "But-"

Weatherford stops before one of the high windows in the corridor they're in and leans on the windowsill, looking rather weary in the moonlight. Tedros idles a few feet behind him, watching water drip down into a puddle on the floor, from a leak somewhere in the roof. He ought to get that fixed. They're in the guest wing, it's not good hosting if there's a leak-

"I pushed you to continue taking the ivy because I believed that was the safest option." says Weatherford, cutting into his slightly fevered thoughts. "However, if you think otherwise, I'm happy to support your case to the court."

Tedros squints at him, resting against an ornate mirror. He knows that with Weatherford's backing he instantly becomes a hundred times more credible, but this is a very swift turn in opinion.

"Last year, you said no-"

"Last year it had not rendered you mostly defenceless in the face of an assassination attempt." says Weatherford tiredly. "You and I both know that, had you been at full control of your magic, you could have broken that dagger without touching it."

Tedros frowns. Honestly, he doesn't know what he could have done, but Weatherford is probably right.

He'd told him some of the story- he'd admitted to breaking the dagger with magic and panic-icing the walls, but he'd eliminated any mention of recognising Ravan, and had made up a fight to explain his other injuries. Weatherford might be his closest advisor, but Tedros dislikes his newfound closeness with Vanessa, and he prefers to keep Her Royal High-Maintenance-ness out of his business as much as possible. He knows full well that Vanessa is already aware of his… situation, and he'd like it if she didn't know much more.

He's not entirely sure he trusts Weatherford with all of his information, either.

"And I want to train." Tedros says, trying to wrest back control of the situation. "Learn to control it better."

"I assumed that was a given, once you stopped suppressing it." says Weatherford, not turning from the window. "But where will you find a teacher?"

Tedros grimaces, still staring at the water dripping behind Weatherford. He's not been able to think of anyone who might be much help to him.

"Well, I thought I could start with-"

"If you're about to suggest you could just try it yourself, I don't know if that's a good idea."

Tedros scowls.

"Can you think of a better option?"

Weatherford turns back, looking much older than his 23 years.

"I'll make a discreet effort at finding people who might have more knowledge." he says. "I shall ask the court-"

"No!" Tedros says, slightly louder than intended. "No, don't tell them-"

"That you're training in secret?" says Weatherford, raising his eyebrows. "They won't be impressed, if they find out."

"It's not their choice." says Tedros coldly.

"They represent the interests of the Kingdom." says Weatherford. "They deserve to know."

"No they don't!" sneers Tedros. "They represent interests in fine clothes, wine, and their own personal estates."

"I have told you before that if you are unhappy with your current courtiers, you are at liberty to replace them." says Weatherford, infuriatingly patient.

"With who?" demands Tedros. "The entire palace is seething with them and their allies. There is no one else, and you thoroughly disparaged my suggestion at allowing Beatrix and Dot onto my advisory council."

"Lady Rotunda and Mistress Sherwood are not advisors, Tedros. They are your cosmetic team."

"And yet they've been briefed more extensively about me than most of the court. They give better advice than most of them, too." mutters Tedros.

There's a silence.

"We should get that leak fixed." Tedros says weakly, gesturing to the water. Weatherford ignores his feeble attempt at changing the subject.

"Just because you like what they tell you, it doesn't mean that it's better advice." he scolds. "I am happy to take your side on this, but you need to think practically. You cannot keep this from the court."

Tedros grinds his teeth. He knows Weatherford is speaking the truth, but he also knows that if the court are told about this, they will do everything in their power to get in his way. In a way, he can't really fault them- he'd be scared, too. But they're not giving him a chance to show it could be less frightening.

He purses his lips, rocking on his heels.

"Give me until tomorrow to think about it." he says, eventually. "I shall come to you with my final decision then."

He winces internally as he says it. He often catches himself talking like this, and although it's expected of him, he finds it jarring. He sounds, to himself, like a kid just playing at being King, with big words and proposals he doesn't really understand.

"Very well." says Weatherford, stepping away from the window. "But I would like you to announce it to the court, not just to me. It doesn't do for a King to deceive his own advisors."

Tedros can feel a vein jumping in his neck.

"It works both ways, Weatherford." he snaps. "I don't know what you and Vanessa are discussing when you're shut up together all day, but-"

Weatherford looks unimpressed.

"You're really going to accuse me of conspiring against you?"

"I- not conspiring, but-"

"Surely you've wondered why you've had to do relatively little wedding prep? The vast majority of it is falling to myself and the Queen. We're delegating the fun things to yourself and the Princess."

"I don't feel that Agatha thinks it's fun."

"Princess Agatha seems remarkably hard to please." says Weatherford. His expression softens. "I know you don't like Queen Vanessa, and I understand why-"

"She's clearly a terrible mother." snaps Tedros. "I overheard her talking about Agatha-"

"Whatever you've heard, I'm fairly certain I have also been regaled with." sighs Weatherford. "I do not approve of the way she talks about her daughter, but I know when to keep my mouth shut… and, I imagine, if I was magically inclined, I would not use that, either."

He shoots Tedros a reproving look, which Tedros ignores. He can't prove that snowfall was Tedros, even though they both know full well it was.

"By the way," says Weatherford. "A celebratory ball has been proposed to celebrate your engagement, exactly two months before the wedding. Queen Vanessa has suggested you might want to be the one to make the suggestion to Princess Agatha. She thinks she might take it better from you."

Tedros frowns. He doesn't think Agatha will take it well from anyone.

"I see." he says curtly. "I suppose I'll try."

Weatherford opens his mouth again-

"Until tomorrow." Tedros says tersely.

"I don't think it's wise for you to be wandering the corridors alone-"

With a furious snarl, Tedros lashes his hand impatiently towards the water behind them. With an eerie crackling sound, the water droplets freeze mid-fall, before hitting the floor and shattering.

Weatherford stares at the tiny pieces of ice sliding across the floor.

"Don't think I am not capable of defending myself." snaps Tedros. "What happened the other week will not happen again, with Chaddick's increased guard rotation and me no longer taking the ivy. Leave me."

Weatherford, clearly sensing Tedros is too ill-tempered to be further lectured, says no more. He bows, turns, and marches off, casting one last look at the wet floor freezing over as he turns the corner and disappears.

Tedros hesitates. His sudden flare of anger is giving way to a certain embarrassment- he had meant to demonstrate capability, but it feels more like a laughable, impetuous move, in retrospect.

Suddenly feeling very foolish, he bad-temperedly reaches up to freeze the leak, presumably from the snow melting on the roof. Hopefully that will last until the morning, so that no servants will slip, and-

Wait. There's still ice on the floor, isn't there?

Frowning, he looks down at the frozen puddle of already-fallen water on the floor, and the pieces of ice on the floor, and makes a hopeful gesture with his hands.

Most of the shards disappear, but the puddle stoutly remains.

Scowling, Tedros makes a more aggressive gesture.

Nothing.

It seems it's harder to get rid of than it is to manifest. He's certainly not done it as often. He tries again. The edges erode slightly, and the puddle cracks, but it's still very much there.

Tedros bites back a snarl of frustration and tries his best to calm down. He knows he has better control when he's calm, so if he's less aggressive…

He makes another gesture and only succeeds in making it bigger.

Tedros abandons being calm and succumbs to a very childish foot stamp-

And recoils as ice erupts from where his foot had landed.

"Shit." he mutters, staring at the sheen of ice on the flagstones of the floor. "Shit."

Then, something makes him turn. He's not sure what it is- the tiniest of movements, or a slight noise, perhaps- but whatever it is, he notices it. He turns-

And makes eye contact with someone, watching him through the slightly ajar door.

They both recoil, shocked. Tedros has no idea who he's looking at- the eye colour is dark, which is very common, it could be anyone...

All he knows is that he's been caught.

For a second, neither of them move.

Slightly belatedly, Tedros raises his hands.

"Is this another attempt at getting rid of me?" he challenges. "Thinking better of it?"

A pause. The eyes narrow. Then;

"Don't flatter yourself, highness." says a rough, relatively low, voice.

It's horrifyingly familiar.

Tedros's hands drop to his sides.

"Agatha." he says faintly, weak with shock. "Agatha, I-"

He reaches for the door, but Agatha pushes back against it.

"Don't open the door." she snaps.

This is exactly how it had played out in his worst imaginings- Agatha reacting with revulsion and fear. Tedros's stomach drops.

"Agatha, I'm not going to hurt you, let me explain-"

"Don't!"

It opens inwards, and she's clearly leaning against it- there's no way he'll be able to open it.

"I can control it!" says Tedros desperately, despite there being plenty of evidence to the contrary, jiggling the handle. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but let me talk to you-"

"Your stupid ice magic isn't the problem!" snarls Agatha. "I guessed last week! Don't open the door!"

Tedros, stops, dumbfounded.

"What? But-"

He realises what's wrong.

He'd seen her eyes.

"You're unveiled." he says.

"I wasn't intending on being seen." says Agatha tersely. Tedros hesitates.

"I mean, now you know my secret-"

"No." says Agatha shortly. "I'll go and get it."

"But I have a cloak with a pretty deep hood, I promise I won't try and look-"

"Not enough." says Agatha shortly. "Wait here."

Before he can protest, he hears the sound of her retreating.

He waits awkwardly on his melting patch of ice, trying to make sense of everything, until the door bashes open and Agatha appears, her veil clashing somewhat with her faded black nightdress and unlaced, scuffed boots.

There's a pause.

"Listen." says Tedros faintly. He clears his throat and tries again. "Agatha, listen, I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you, but my court… I was warned against telling you until after we were married, because they really want the Gavaldon alliance to go ahead, and they were positive it was going to ruin the entire thing. I didn't want it to ruin the entire thing- I really don't want to, now-"

He stops, wringing his hands anxiously. He hates how he can't see her face- he's never been entirely sure that she's not just laughing at him from under the veil, or maybe looking at him with derision or hatred or irritation. Now he feels more uncertain than ever. Here's her future husband, a teenage boy shorter and younger than her, pathetically making his desperate case as to why she should still marry him even though he's every kind of dangerous.

"I-" his voice cracks, and he tries again. "I know it doesn't look like it, and I don't know how much of my conversation with Weatherford you heard-"

"Almost all of it." says Agatha. Her tone doesn't convey any kind of hint as to how she's feeling. "I heard you arguing on my way back from the kitchens. This is very close to my rooms."

"Right-" Tedros swallows. "Um, then you know that I'm going to work really hard on controlling it, hopefully I can find a teacher, and…"

He trails off, despairing at Agatha's total lack of reaction.

"Please don't hate me." he croaks. "I promise I don't mean to be dangerous."

There's a long, tense pause. Tedros puts his head down, then notices the ice slowly melting at his feet and looks away sharply.

"If you want to break it off, I understand," he says. "Though I- what are you doing?"

Agatha has set her candle on the windowsill and is stripping off her gloves, without saying anything to him.

"Please say something." Tedros begs-

The next second, he's jumped back, shocked.

Agatha has swept the flame from the candle, holding the tiny thing- inexplicably, still alight- in her palm. Turning back to him, she snaps her wrist down. The flame sputters and grows, leaping from a tiny flicker to a lashing tongue in a second. Agatha turns calmly, brings her arm back, and throws it smoothly into the unlit fireplace, which ignites instantly with a whumph.

Tedros stares, hardly able to make sense of what he's seeing. He's seen people perform tricks with fire before, but nothing he's ever seen has come close to this.

Agatha turns back to him, picks the candle back up, and pinches the wick. Another flame springs up in the first one's place.

She holds her arm out to Tedros. Bewildered, Tedros stares at her-

The veins in her arm have begun to glow.

"I think," she says quietly. "Our courts have a very warped sense of humour."

"So it was obvious." says Tedros flatly, twenty minutes later. Agatha had hauled him (panicking and incoherent) into her sitting room, and told him to shut up so I can explain. She'd told him how she'd guessed; told him all the slip-ups he'd made and the hints she'd found, to the extent that Tedros is feeling rather stupid. "I didn't notice a thing about you, and you just guessed immediately..."

"...Not too obvious." says Agatha, clearly trying to be kind. "I just know more than the average person. I could sense magic off you, but it was muted, so I think I thought you were doing something similar to my mother-"

"You thought I was using appearance magic?" says Tedros incredulously.

"Well, no one looks like... that." Agatha gestures dismissively at him. "I assume it's makeup?"

"This is my face!" says Tedros indignantly. "They just dye my hair and change my complexion!"

"... really?" Agatha leans over to stare at him. "Does the magic give you blue hair or something?"

"White." says Tedros defensively. "They mute my eye colour, because it's kind of… intense. They dye all my hair including my eyebrows and eyelashes, and give my face colour. I naturally look very pale. Frostbitten. My lips and eyelids are blue-tinged, and my nails are a little blue, as well. I hide it because it scares people."

And because he much prefers how he looks with makeup on.

"Fascinating." muses Agatha.

Tedros looks at her for a second. He's never had someone think it was interesting, before.

Then his brain catches up with everything else she's said.

"Wait," he says, suddenly pleased. "You think I'm so good looking, that I look fake-"

"You look like a doll." snaps Agatha, drawing back immediately.

"Why, thank you."

"It's not a good thing."

"I think all the painters would disagree."

Agatha huffs audibly and abruptly changes the subject.

"Well, it is interesting. I've never known how it manifests in other elements."

"In other- hey! That's why you wear the veil!" Tedros bolts up, triumphant. "Isn't it? Your magic looks too obvious on you-"

Agatha tenses immediately.

"Partially." she says shortly.

"Partially?" repeats Tedros, confused. "But-"

Agatha waves her still faintly-glowing arm at him. She's explained it as a side effect of using her magic, which Tedros thinks is supremely unfair. He looks weird even when he's not using magic.

"This happens in my shoulders and neck, too. Veil hides it. Also, it means I look too much like my mother did before she started taking appearance magic, so she doesn't like it."

"What did Vanessa look like before?"

"Dark hair and eyes." says Agatha tersely.

It's a question he hadn't expected much of an answer to, but Tedros starts desperately trying to add to his mental portrait of her. It's not really working. At least he doesn't have to imagine a sullen Sophie-Vanessa fusion anymore. That hadn't been pleasant.

"That's it?" he asks. "But that's nothing! You could just wear high-necked things, or scarves, and just dye your hair-"

"Like I told you, that's not the only reason." snaps Agatha.

"What, does it do something to your face?" Something occurs to Tedros. "Hey, I also sensed magic off of you, and I thought you were using appearance magic, too! Isn't that funny-"

He stumbles to a stop at her non-response.

"Um… you're not, are you?"

"No."

"Oh."

"To answer your question, it doesn't do a lot to my face. It does more to me internally."

"Internally?" asks Tedros worriedly. "Does it make you ill- oh. Oh, was that you?"

"Was what me?" demands Agatha, immediately.

"The other day… near my rooms, I heard-"

"You heard me coughing." groans Agatha.

"Yeah." says Tedros sheepishly. "I thought you were choking actually, but by the time I got there, you were gone, there was just some- some ash."

Agatha remains silent. Tedros stares at her, horrified.

"You cough up ash?"

"Embers, actually."

"What? But- but doesn't that hurt?"

"A little. They don't burn, obviously, but it makes it… hard to breathe."

"That's terrible." says Tedros desperately. "Can't you stop it?"

"It's easier to let it pass." says Agatha, picking at her nails. "I have to cool myself down, otherwise, and that usually involves water. Recently, I've used snow, which is easier, but…"

"Water is bad for you?"

Even as Tedros says it, he supposes it's common sense, and Agatha is already nodding.

"I barely drink anything. I take very hot, very shallow, baths- what?"

Tedros has leapt to his feet, casting around for a pen and paper.

"We should make a list," he says, "Of all the things that are problems, or like, symptoms-"

"For your assassin to pick up, yes, good idea." says Agatha archly.

"No, we can burn it after, it'll just be easier to remember..."

He trails off. Agatha just looks at him for a second.

"Maybe that's stupid. Sorry. I just-"

"Sure, let's make a list." says Agatha calmly, and stands to go and get paper.

TEDROS:

Water okay, but even hot water freezes eventually when touched

Looks scary without makeup

Not very good at controlling magic

Swallowing water v. uncomfortable

Tears/sweat/blood freeze once out of body

Keeps accidentally messing with the weather in the kingdom- winters super harsh

Only just come off of ivy- might get more powerful?

Bites ice-cream ("Tedros, be serious.")

No proper concept of temperature

V low body temp

AGATHA:

Water bad!

Coughs up embers.

Veins glow- a little cool, a little scary

More control- can regulate body temp somewhat

Spicy food tolerance ("Tedros, don't actually write that, I was joking! Yes, it's true, but-")

No proper concept of temperature

Scorches things by accident sometimes.

V high body temp

"So, the only thing we've got in common is no concept of temperature." says Tedros, scratching a line under it. "Suppose that makes sense."

He squints at her list.

"I don't understand how you can do that." he says, tapping more control with the pen. "Regulate your body temperature a little, and do all those fun tricks. How'd you learn to control it so much better than me?"

"More research, maybe? I don't know how much you did-"

"Research?" repeats Tedros, confused.

Agatha's head turns towards him. For a second, neither of them say anything.

"Oh, my god." Agatha says faintly. "You don't know anything about yourself, do you?"

Tedros frowns. He feels that's a bit harsh.

"Actually, I-"

"Let me guess, the court, or your parents, maybe both, got really scared. They forced you to wear enchanted gloves to suppress it-" she holds up her own gloves, from her robe pocket. "To drink the ivy..." she leaps to her feet again and starts pacing up and down her rug. "They tried to pretend it was a non-issue, even though it clearly wasn't, and as a result forbade you from asking about it, or trying it out-"

"You're smoking." Tedros interrupts her disturbingly accurate interpretation of his childhood, eyeing the grey curling from the shoulder of her nightgown.

"Whatever, I've got another one-" Agatha turns to him. Even without being able to see her face, he knows she's aghast. "You mean to tell me you don't even know what you are?"

"...I'm cursed." says Tedros. "It's hardly something to cheer about."

"Cursed!" barks Agatha, slapping her gloves against her palm. "Is that what they told you? Tedros, you're an ice spirit!"

"...what?" He scoffs. "That's not a thing."

"Of course it is." says Agatha. "Who would have cursed you? There's no magic users left, anymore."

"There's the man who makes my gloves-"

"Our gloves," says Agatha. "My mother invested in some lovely enchanted magic-restrictors for me, too, and it's certain to be the same man. Merlin, yes?

"...yes."

"He also makes my veil. It's enchanted so you can't see through it at all."

Tedros frowns, thinking of the vague impression of her face shape he keeps getting at certain angles. Try as he might, he's not been able to discern any specific features, but he occasionally gets snatches of a sharp jaw and angular nose. Perhaps the enchantment doesn't extend to people like him. These… spirits.

"But what does this… spirit thing mean?" he says. "I've never heard of anything like that. How come Vanessa let you research everything?"

"She didn't, technically. But I had the advantage of the fact that she never pays any attention to me, so Callis and I could do it anyway."

Tedros, who has been dogged by a guard or two since he could toddle, scowls. He's become supremely jealous of Agatha's relationship with Callis recently.

"Well," he says, "What did you find out?"

Agatha balls up her gloves. Tedros tries to imagine her frowning in concentration-

"I don't have time to explain it all now."

"What? But, Agatha-"

"It's too long, and it's nearly 3 in the morning already." says Agatha. "When we're next planning, I'll explain it to you then- wait. I've got a better idea."

"What?"

"You need a teacher. Weatherford said you need a teacher. I'll do it."

And, just like that, all of his problems are solved.

"Yes!" Tedros nearly shrieks, "You could… you could... wait, you don't know anything about my powers."

But Agatha waves him off.

"I can work it out. It'll be different techniques, but it's mostly common sense- with fire, I need to be sharp and fast. I think you'll need to be much more settled. The only problem is, we'll have to have a good explanation for disappearing off together…"

It's Tedros's turn to look at her like she's an idiot.

"Agatha. There's a ball coming up, and would I be correct in assuming you don't know any of the traditional dances of this country?"

"There are traditional dances?" says Agatha apprehensively.

"No, then." sighs Tedros, suspecting from her reaction that she can barely dance in the first place. "Well, you've got two weeks to learn them, and I'll make sure I'm the one who's sent to teach you. And it means we can be in close proximity without suspicion, which makes talking without being overheard easy. I'll request a large space, probably one of the West Galleries, no one ever goes up there, so we can hide any evidence… hm." He frowns, suddenly realising a snag. "They're going to want us to have a chaperone, they'll never leave unmarried couples together to avoid any… uh, debauchery. That could be a problem. Who in your party knows?"

He gets no response.

"Agatha? Does anyone apart from your mother know about your magic?"

"...what? Oh, they all do, all of them." says Agatha, sounding rather hassled. "I'll ask Callis to come with us."

"Oh, good." says Tedros. "Callis has a reputation for not liking me, amongst my staff, so they'll probably just accept the overprotective nursemaid thing out of hand."

He peers at Agatha, who is standing rather stiffly.

"Do you think this is a bad plan?"

"Huh? Oh no, it should work."

"You just seemed distracted."

"No no, I'm fine-" Agatha seems to gather herself. "Yes, send me a note through Callis, she'll hand it straight over." says Agatha. Tedros nods, relieved, and turns to the door as she adds; "I'm sorry for spying on you."

Tedros had almost completely forgotten about that.

"Oh! It's alright. I suppose you were just curious. Wanted to confirm your theory?"

Agatha screws her gloves up.

"... yeah." she says. "Yeah, that was it."

Tedros gets the impression that she's not telling the full truth, but he's too excited to question her further.

"Goodnight!" he says brightly. "Should I call you professor, now?"

Agatha laughs at him. It's raspy and weird, but it's more genuine than he's heard before.

"Absolutely not. Get out of my sitting room."

"As my Queen commands."

Tedros bows out of the door to a muttered we're not married yet, and saunters down the corridor, grinning broadly to himself-

Where he encounters the ice puddle, still stoutly there.

He pauses, and casts a glance around to see if anyone is around. There's no one.

I think you'll need to be much more settled.

He turns to it and takes a breath.

Then he makes a slight, but firm, gesture of dismissal, digging his feet into the flagstones-

And the puddle disappears.

For a second, he stares at it, shocked.

Then he smiles.