"That's- that's it?" splutters Nicola. "That can't be it!"

Tedros looks unimpressed.

"I don't do well speaking for long periods of time, and I've given you the basics." he says. He does sound hoarse by now, Nicola has to admit. "Besides," he adds, "What else is there to tell?

Nicola looks at him, aghast.

"What else?" she springs to her feet and begins to pace. "What happened to you? What about Ravan? Weatherford? How did everyone react to your magic? Why does everyone think Agatha is a hostage?"

Tedros snorts.

"Well, I clearly didn't die."

Nicola frowns at him, unimpressed.

"Clearly, but did the ice pierce your lungs?"

"No, just made a mess of my throat and mouth." Tedros swings his legs down from the armrest of his throne and turns to face her properly. "I could barely speak at Agatha's coronation. It didn't matter, mind you, because I-"

"Turned up in a suit of armour made from ice and everyone was too scared to talk to you anyway?" interrupts Nicola.

"Oh, people still remember that?" A rather smug expression crosses Tedros's face. "Another one of those old tales? Hmm. Good."

Good is not the word Nicola would use, but she doesn't comment.

"What about the rumours you're holding Agatha hostage?"

Tedros fixes her with a rather condescending look.

"You tell me, Pipp."

"...made up by Rhian on the back of that story, based on the fact she's here relatively often and he wants people to be scared of you?"

Tedros grunts in assent and goes back to picking his nails.

"I don't understand how it can have been mangled so quickly." Nicola muses, despite Tedros's clear lack of interest in continuing. "It can't have been that long ago. How old are you? Fifty?"

Tedros's head snaps up, and he scowls at the estimate.

"Forty-eight."

Nicola gawks.

"It was only thirty years ago? That doesn't make any sense!"

Tedros replies in markedly worse humour, clearly offended at having been aged two years;

"It was mangled with an older, existing tale as part of a propaganda campaign by Vanessa's allies. Originally it was only a comparison in an article, but in the end, it merged, and people tend to forget the original. Since I remain largely out of the public eye, it was easy for people to make me a myth."

Nicola has a million questions- why didn't you protest the comparison? being the main one- but she doesn't pitch them. Instead, she says;

"Why did Ravan save you? What happened to him?"

Tedros rubs his beard, considering.

"He never gave me a straight answer, and fled the country before I was properly recovered. He did try to kill me, after all, and I think he thought he might get the Vanessa treatment. I don't know where he went, but Hort goes on holiday to Thicket Tumble extremely often, so I have my suspicions. But if I were to guess, I would say our shared history made him feel guilty about having tried to kill me the first time, and in the end he decided Vanessa was a bigger threat to the kingdom than I was."

"...I see." Nicola sifts through her questions, still finding herself bewildered. "What about Weatherford?"

"Fell on his face, grovelled, and eventually resigned once I had found a suitable replacement for him."

"How about that girl, the one Agatha saw amongst the well-wishers? Morgan?"

Tedros sighs deeply. He looks rather tired.

"How many more questions do I have to answer? Agatha went and found her, in an attempt to learn more about people like us. She was woefully undertrained, even worse than I was. She's a member of her court, nowadays. Researcher."

"And the people?"

"They came around to it." says Tedros. "There was a lot of enthusiasm around the idea that I could be so useful for defence in times of war, but mostly they were just glad Vanessa hadn't murdered me and flung the kingdom into a succession crisis. Took a long time to regain their trust, though."

"And Gavaldon-"

"Were secretly glad to see Vanessa go, as any person with an active conscience would be. And it seems that Vanessa hadn't done as good a job covering the situation with Agatha up as my parents had."

Nicola draws breath-

"Oh, please, no more." groans Tedros. "You already know more than almost everyone outside of my kingdom."

"But-"

"Is that sufficient for your spying? Hmm?"

Nicola freezes, cursing herself. She'd become so caught up in her own interest in the story she'd completely forgotten what she was supposed to be doing, but Tedros clearly hadn't.

She swallows, throat dry.

"I find it highly unlikely you're just going to let me walk out of here, and take all this information back to the twin Kings."

Tedros doesn't say anything, clearing his throat and scratching frost from his fingers. Nicola looks hard at him, struggling to find any trace of the boy he'd described. There's very little to show for it. He seems to have given up on dyeing his hair and beard, because both are a very pure, intense white- not from age, but from magic. He's definitely still wearing makeup, and remains broad-shouldered and strong, but his demeanour is anything but earnest. More like scornful.

"What are you going to do?" she demands bravely, once it's clear he won't respond. "Put an icicle through me? Dump me up on the mountain and make it look like I froze to death? Or-"

"How old are you, Pipp?" Tedros interrupts, as if he hadn't heard her.

Nicola stares at him.

"...nineteen."

"Nineteen." repeats Tedros slowly. "You're the same age as my eldest daughter."

Unable to see how this is relevant, Nicola glances around, wondering if she can make a break for it. Even though Tedros hadn't directly killed Vanessa, he and Sophie had let it happen, and he'd laughed about it…

"Oh stop twitching won't you?" says Tedros suddenly. "I'm not going to kill you."

Nicola turns back to him, bewildered.

"What?"

"Did you listen to anything I just told you? Do I seem like I'm in the habit of murdering children?"

"I'm not a child." says Nicola, offended.

"Yes, you are." dismisses Tedros. "Where did those bastards find you, eh? Pipp doesn't sound like a Foxwood surname to me."

"...it's not." says Nicola slowly. "I live in a tiny village on the edge of the forest between Jaunt Jolie and Netherwood. My parents owed a debt to King Japeth that they couldn't pay-"

"So he took you as a spy and sent you into what he thought was a death trap?" demands Tedros, incredulous. This is the most animated Nicola has seen him so far, which is baffling. She doesn't say anything, but her face must confirm it, because Tedros laughs- more genuine, if equally painful-sounding, than the last time.

"Of course he did! No, Nicola Pipp, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to offer you a job."

Nicola blinks at him, bewildered.

"...what?"

"You're the first person I've encountered in years who's shown a genuine interest in my little… anecdote." says Tedros. "You said that you care more for information than the spying job itself, and I can tell you have no loyalty to either of the twins. Yourself permitting, I'll take you to Gavaldon with me this evening and tomorrow, you'll be presented to the Queen as a new member for her research team. We've spent years trying to understand the extent of what we can do, and we need as many researchers as we can get our hands on. The library there is brilliant, better than the one here, and now you know everything, I don't think it'll take you long to catch up."

For once, Nicola's brilliant mind seems to have slowed to a stop.

"But- but Rhian and Japeth-"

"They can't protest without admitting what they hired you to do. You're not a citizen of their country. What can they do? And Agatha will pay you better than whatever they were offering you. You can see your family, too. Of course, you could work in the Camelot branch, but I thought being a member of Agatha's court might suit you better. Less… rigid."

Tedros looks expectantly at her. Nicola gawks back at him.

"I…"

She is ready to say no, to assume this is a trick and try and get out of here alive, but after all she's heard, all that Tedros has told her… she's finding it hard to see how it could be a trick. The chance to research this story? For a living? It seems too good to be true. She should probably refuse. Yes, she should refuse, she's going to refuse, she-

"I'll do it." she says.

Damn it.

This better not be a trick.

"Excellent!" says Tedros briskly, and springs to his feet, cracking his neck. "We'll leave for my lady love in a few hours. Until then, I'll introduce you to some people, get you some better clothes, that sort of thing, find someone for you to tag along with… yes, I'll hand you over to Hort, that'll keep him out of my way-"

"Um- your majesty, I don't… know how to… act in a royal court..."

But Tedros is already striding across the hall, no longer listening, grinning broadly.

As Nicola hurries after him, slightly shell-shocked, she thinks, maybe, that she sees how he and the boy in the story are the same person, after all.


"Tedros, this is a completely stupid move, worthy of your teenage self." Beatrix tells him, the second he's finished explaining.

"She's no real spy." rasps Tedros, nursing his aching throat and wishing they'd stop interrogating him, so he can stop talking. "She's just some kid Rhian and Japeth picked up and tried to get me to kill off for them. She's the same age as Alex."

"Alex is 19, Tedros."

"Still a kid."

"You were married and had nearly died by then."

Tedros ignores her.

"Personally, I think it's a good idea." says Dot brightly. "Gets rid of an information source for them, and helps us. She seems like a nice kid."

Beatrix looks doubtful, but she doesn't press the point. Chaddick cuts in;

"Asked me thirty billion questions whilst we were waiting for the carriages." he says, propping his boots up on Tedros's side of the carriage. "Told her you spent four months drinking everything because you couldn't eat, and about that one time you sneezed blood on Agatha."

"Every day, Chaddick, I regret making you an Esquire of the Body." mutters Tedros.

"Well, boo-hoo." snorts Chaddick. "Unless you can magically heal my bad knee, my guarding and knighting days are over. I will be following you around for the rest of my life."

"Your knee?" snorts Beatrix. "That's your excuse? You're far too old to be a guard!"

"I am not!"

"Just because Tedros still looks young, it doesn't mean you do-"

Deciding not to mention that Nicola had guessed he was fifty- he'll keep it to himself, since he can already hear Agatha laughing- Tedros watches them bicker thoughtfully. By now, they're the longest-serving members of his court- his closest confidants and advisors. They'd all watched him throw up blood for three months after he was drowned. You don't get closer than that.

Tedros sits back and considers his choice to appoint Nicola, watching the Gillkin Mountains that separate Camelot from the rest of the Woods roll by. He doesn't regret it- in truth, the idea had come to him the second she'd asked to hear his version of the story- but her many questions have made him reflect on things he hasn't thought about for years. Most prominently, Vanessa's death.

Oh, yes, he'd laughed. Semi-conscious and terrified and furious, he'd laughed until he'd fainted. Most people had thought he was choking.

He hadn't been.

There's no way of knowing whether he'd had enough control to save Vanessa. It's possible that even if he'd tried, it would have been impossible for him to reform the ice. He just knows he didn't try. The second she'd lunged at Agatha, he'd written her off. Why should he have tried to save her? She'd tried to kill him. Hateful witch. He wishes he'd have pushed her outright.

They'd retrieved her body from the lake quickly, apparently.

There was a grim sort of justice in that.

Tedros has never told anyone he'd had a thing to do with it. It had taken him months to be able to talk again, and by the time Agatha was willing to even tolerate the sound of Vanessa's name, it was too far in the past. It doesn't matter. He thinks she knows, anyway. He and Sophie always look a tad too vitriolic when Vanessa is mentioned.

(Callis knows. She'd confronted him at Agatha's coronation, years ago.)

The sun sinks below the mountaintops. They won't arrive in Gavaldon until the small hours of the morning, most likely. Dot is already asleep, and Beatrix and Chaddick are both clearly nodding off. There are heavy, grey clouds in the distance. Rain.

It'll be snow, once Tedros has anything to do with it.

He puts his head back against the seat, thinking of lakes and veils and gloves, and eventually, drops off himself.

"I've got you a present."

Tedros looks over at Agatha, sitting in a heap of faintly reflective golden fabric. Anemone had spared no effort with her coronation gown, and the layers of shimmering gold on top of the black certainly has the desired effect of flames, especially with the train.

He frowns.

"Me?" he croaks. It's her coronation. "What?"

It's long past midnight, and most of the coronation guests have left or retired, but Agatha seems too agitated to go to bed. She's taken the crown off as quickly as possible, probably because she's spent so long seeing it on her mother's head.

She pulls something out of a drawer and comes to sit next to him on the sofa.

"It's traditional to have a coronation portrait done," she says, "But I didn't think I was really… ready for that."

Tedros thinks of how many people had spent the vast majority of the coronation gawking at her face, and doesn't find himself very surprised that she's reluctant. Mildly disappointed, but not surprised.

"But…" she says. "I said they could do one thing. For you."

She pulls something from her sleeve and puts it in his hand.

It's a miniature portrait of her, done in oils, in a thin golden frame. Tedros stares, enchanted- it's tiny, really, fitting easily in the palm of his hand, but it's almost perfect, accurate down to the depth of her scars and the slightly thoughtful crease of her brow.

"I know I'm not smiling," says Agatha, plucking at her sleeve anxiously, clearly embarrassed. "I just thought, to get used to it, it would be a good idea to have something small-"

The rest of her sentence is cut off by Tedros kissing her. He can't say anything anyway, but even if he could, it wouldn't be enough.

The carriage jerks and Tedros is jolted awake. Feeling oddly sentimental, he digs in his doublet and produces the miniature. It's faded with age, and the frame is chipped in a few places. He has others, more up-to-date ones, but he keeps the most recent one of Agatha and the ones of his children in his study, since their duties to their different kingdoms require them to be away from one another for long periods, sometimes. But he keeps this one with him, because it was the first.

He must have been asleep for hours, because it's completely dark, now. A heavy rain is drumming on the roof of the carriage, and the lanterns on the outside are lit. The other three are still asleep. Looking out down the path, he can see they're on the outskirts of the royal capital, starting to crawl up the steep, cobbled streets- they'll be at the palace in fifteen minutes or so.

The first time he'd visited, for Agatha's coronation, he'd been struck by how cramped Gavaldon was. Camelot is busy, but Gavaldon is a teetering stack of ancient buildings stacked into a cliff-face before the Savage Sea, with the grey stone castle topping the whole thing off, right at the summit. Agatha has mentioned that it has evacuation tunnels that go into- and through- the mountain, which emerge in the middle of Gillikin's Gavaldon embassy. The castle itself is smaller and stouter than Camelot's sprawling white palace, but distinctly lacking in the damage he'd done to his. He'd removed what ice he could, but in many cases, he had interfered with something necessary for structure, and had been forced to leave the ice there, sternly reinforced over many years. Almost impossible to break, he thinks. There's a patch in the third-floor corridor on the West side that everyone falls over on, so they keep a rug over it. But there's nothing like that in Gavaldon, save the easily-repaired damage that came with trying to train three children who'd inherited their parent's… talents. Ice for the twins, fire for their elder sister-

"Looks like she's still awake."

Tedros glances over at Beatrix, who seems to have been woken by the rattling of the carriage over the cobblestones. Chaddick is still snoring, and Dot's head is bouncing against the window.

Beatrix points up at the palace, and Tedros follows her gaze to the light just visible at the top of the western tower. He sighs, then regrets it when it turns into a wheeze. He's told Agatha a million times not to wait up for him, but she never listens. She's fallen asleep behind the veil in meetings before. It's somewhere between hilarious and infuriating.

At his lack of response, Beatrix frowns.

"Voice completely gone, now?"

Tedros tries. It is.

"Ah, well. Gives you an excuse to force someone else to present Nicola, tomorrow."

Tedros, who had been intending to make Hort do it even if he had been able to talk, grins and decides that's a lovely excuse.


"Ugh, can't you make it snow instead?" groans Chaddick, as they emerge from the carriage into persistent, freezing sheets of rain. Tedros, the rain turning to ice as soon as it hits him, watches the servants sprint from the warm interior of the stables to unyoke the horses, bundled in cloaks as the rest of the carriages clatter in behind them. The stablemaster's young daughter, Bethany, is hanging around the door, staring at him, probably because he's got ice plastered to his face. Tedros feels distinctly guilty for making the stables staff stay up this late, but both courts always insist this is the safest time to travel through the Gillikin Pass, since the winds are at their lowest. But it's 2 in the morning, and everyone is getting soaked to the skin. Several of the youngest stablehands are sloshing along without cloaks, hair plastered to their faces as they carry people's trunks inside.

Tedros sighs and glances skywards. He'll have to be careful, to avoid turning the courtyard into a death-trap of an ice rink, but this won't be natural snow, so he can afford to have it stick a little too easily...

"It's snowing!" pipes up the stablemaster's daughter from behind them, scampering out to grab her father's leg. "Look!"

Why, so it is.

How convenient.


Despite what he and Beatrix had assumed, Agatha is not doing a very good job of waiting up for him.

As quietly as he can, Tedros takes off his boots and hangs up his wet travelling cloak, trying to discern whether she's actually asleep or not. The horribly uncomfortable-looking position with a book trapped under her hip suggests yes, but the fact the veins in her arm are still glowing slightly suggests the opposite. These days, the only time they don't is when she's asleep or in the bath, because she's so often operating some low level of magic- keeping the fire or torches at the level she wants them, moderating the temperature of the room, or trying to override her daughter's own influence on the nearby fire sources when she gets too excited.

Tedros skirts the fireplace to avoid accidentally putting it out, and slides an arm under her back, intending to try and move her-

Agatha grabs him by the collar and yanks him down on top of her.

"Sensed you coming." she mutters into the pillow. "And heard it stop raining."

Thinking hearing the carriages arrive also might have had something to do with it, Tedros makes a noise of vague acknowledgement and kisses her jaw, rolling off of her and settling himself opposite. She doesn't seem particularly interested in opening her eyes. Disgruntled, he extracts the book from under her back. Agatha ignores him.

Tedros scrapes the remainder of the ice from his cheek and throws it at her.

Agatha cracks an eye open, grinning.

"What, are you just going to pelt me with snow? Not going to complain about the journey- ah." They widen fully. "Knocked your voice out again, haven't you?"

His lack of response confirms it. Sighing, Agatha sits up and props herself on his chest, laying one of her hot hands gently across his throat.

"You're stupid." she says. "What did you do, chair a meeting? Spend too long arguing with people?"

There's no way he can explain it with gestures, so Tedros doesn't even bother to try. He puts his arms around her waist and pulls her to him, burying his face in her neck. He's missed her. He always misses her. The idea of marrying two heirs to separate thrones is only politically advantageous, not practical in the slightest. (Tedros thinks it probably works better if said heirs don't like one another.) Nowadays they're only separate for a few months or so per year, since Tedros has started digging his heels in, reluctant to leave his children for long, but at one point in the first few years of Agatha's reign, they'd spent more than six months apart. Usually Agatha comes over to Camelot, since Anadil is completely impossible to influence and a very suitable choice to oversee Gavaldon, but Tedros is generally expected to attend Gavaldon's winter festivals, and is, like this year, sometimes obligated to provide the required winter weather, when nature is not up to the job.

"I missed you." says Agatha vaguely, running her hands through his hair. "Your daughter wants to show you her new fire-breathing trick."

Glad they're on the same page, Tedros tips his head back, tracing the faintly glowing veins in her shoulder, and raises his eyebrows. Agatha snorts.

"Nineteen and still coming up with mildly dangerous tricks. She's worked out how to make fire come out of her nose. It's disgusting. It gave her a nosebleed once, but mostly I think it just makes her snot black."

Tedros stares at her, faintly impressed and faintly horrified in equal measure. Agatha grins.

"Callis hates it. Reminds her too much of when I used to choke."

Both Tedros and Callis are very grateful that doesn't happen anymore.

On the topic of Callis, Tedros looks questioning as best he can. Agatha catches his meaning.

"Oh, she's fine. Bounced back from that stomach bug immediately. Told me to tell you that if you make it 'too damn cold' this year and give her chilblains again, she'll finish what Vanessa started."

Tedros groans. Agatha laughs at him.

"I told her that was a bit far, but she's getting irreverent as she approaches her seventies."

Tedros, who thinks she was always irreverent, merely smiles. His throat is starting to give him a headache, and he thinks his breathing will probably be worse tomorrow. His lungs get inflamed infuriatingly easily, nowadays. It will never be as bad as it was when it first happened- it had hurt too much to even be able to cry, let alone speak- but it still bothers him more than he'd like it to.

He was just a kid.

He must look agitated, because Agatha leans down to kiss him.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to remind you."

Tedros shrugs dismissively. It's been on his mind all day, anyway, and it's not as if Vanessa is around anymore. He puts his hand to his neck to indicate the real problem. Agatha grimaces and sets her hands back on his throat. It provides mild relief, but nothing really helps.

"I'll raid Callis's cupboards, get you some gingko leaf or something." she says. "I can't guarantee it'll work, though."

Callis had been quick-thinking enough to save his life once, therefore Tedros takes any random herbal remedy she endorses without complaint.

(Also because it took him so long to win her favour in the first place, he's not going to do anything to offend her again.)

They lie in silence for a while, save the embers falling in the grate, the patter of the snow on the window, and Tedros's slightly laboured breathing. Agatha has shifted off him, probably so he can breathe better, but their sides are still pressed together.

Something in Tedros's pockets is digging into his back. Frowning, he rifles around in his doublet-

And produces the miniature.

He must make some sort of noise, because Agatha opens her eyes-

"Is that me? Give-"

She snatches it, and Tedros swipes for it back, but she holds it out of his reach.

"This is the original." she says, bewildered. "Ooh, teenage Agatha wasn't much to look at, was she, what did I do this for- hey! What was that for- Tedros, it was a joke- ow! Stop shoving me!"

Tedros glares at her. He'd been fairly sure they'd gotten this mentality out of her by now, but occasionally it still makes an appearance. In reality, she has changed very little- her scars look shallower nowadays, thirty extra years to heal, and she's grown into her height and bony limbs, but other than that, she looks about the same.

"I'm joking, Tedros-" sighs Agatha when he doesn't let up. She looks back at it and her arm drops. "Why did you keep this one, let alone carry it about? Don't you have more up to date ones?"

He nods. They're on his desk. She knows this.

"Why not them, then?"

Tedros blinks at her. He's honestly surprised she didn't know he still had it, but he supposes he only ever looks at it when he's not around her.

Agatha looks back at the painting, slumping back down next to him.

"Tedros." she says, quieter. Unsure of whether he's being disapproved of or not, Tedros looks warily at her.

"You really kept this all this time?"

Well, obviously.

Silently, Agatha hands it back to him, a lot more carefully than she'd taken it from him. Slightly worried he's done something wrong, Tedros sets it on the nightstand and turns back to her-

Agatha sets her hand on his cheek.

"I love you." she says quietly. Relieved, Tedros exhales, and is on the cusp of returning the sentiment before he realises he can't talk. Frustrated, he takes a breath to attempt it anyway-

Agatha cuts him off by kissing him. Tedros's hand goes to the small of her back and hers go over his shoulders. He can feel her grinning, and he's pretty sure-

He pulls back, frowning. She is laughing at him, and she doesn't even have the decency to look sheepish.

"You're stupid." she says fondly, smoothing his hair. " And I'm unsentimental."

Tedros takes her hand and presses a kiss to her palm. He thinks she generally is largely unsentimental, but he doesn't really mind. He can be sentimental enough for the both of them.


In the end, Tedros skips the presentation of Nicola to Agatha's court to sleep in.

He'd woken up when Agatha had, but by that time his entire head had been screaming at him, and it had even hurt to swallow, so he'd groggily helped her dress, reluctantly accepted a glass of something disgusting Callis was clearly responsible for, and collapsed back into the warm spot where Agatha had been sleeping for another two hours.

Still, whatever Callis had done, it had worked at least a bit, because when Tedros wakes up to Chaddick and Beatrix rifling through his closet, he can at least function, even if talking is still somewhat beyond him and he still feels distinctly achy.

He refuses breakfast and wanders down the corridors on his own, looking for his children. He's always loved how lax Gavaldon is in terms of guards and attendants- there's no pressure to take your attendants everywhere like there is in Camelot.

Court is still in session, so he takes one of the outside breezeways, wondering whether Alex had actually caved and gone to join her mother and siblings, this morning-

Then shrieking and cheering erupts from a courtyard nearby, and Tedros knows she hasn't.

He emerges onto a balcony and takes the side stairs down, into a snowy courtyard with a suspiciously damp, snow-lacking circle in the centre. And in the centre of that...

Alex has always loved turning her magic into party tricks.

Weaving a flame in between her fingers the same way Agatha always does, his eldest daughter stalks in a circle- barefoot, for some reason Tedros has yet to work out- talking emphatically to her big-eyed audience. Courtier's children, clearly. A gaggle of nursemaids lurk nearby, looking mildly disapproving.

"- and so, the fearsome dragon told the King that she would defeat the horrible old knights. She flew aaaaaaall the way to the cliffside where the knights were hiding. But they weren't scared, 'coz they were idiots, so they drew their swords and charged at the dragon! They went die, foul beast- which wasn't very nice- and the dragon said no and so she attacked them with her magic fire! It went fshoom, all around, just like... this!"

Alex spins like a ballerina and sweeps her leg around, slashing flame around in a circle. The court children shriek and jump, amazed.

"And all the knights at the front got fried in their armour like crispy bacon!" proclaims Alex.

"Did they go sizzle?" shouts a girl from the back.

"They did go sizzle!" confirms Alex cheerfully.

Tedros, who knows Agatha and Callis's somewhat macabre storytelling influence when he hears it, groans to himself.

"So, the knights at the back all rushed to the front, to try and defeat the dragon themselves, because they're-"

"STUPID!" shout the children gleefully.

"Oh, yes they are! They try to hold the dragon down so they can chain her-" she throws various flames into the air, symbolising the dragon fighting- "and they neaaaaarly do it, but, then, the dragon does what the dragon does best!"

The kids gasp and nudge each other, clearly having seen this before.

"She took a big breath, and she looked up, and then…"

She pauses for just slightly too long. The kids are practically vibrating with excitement. "WOOSH!"

Alex rubs her hands together, sparks a flame, brings it to her mouth, and blows it billowing into the air, melting the falling snow and spraying steam everywhere. The kids scream in excitement and clap furiously. Alex directs the fire upwards, away from her audience, and bows.

"The Evil Knights were defeated! The King was very pleased. In fact, he was so pleased that he kissed the dragon, who turned into a beautiful Princess, and they got married and everyone lived happily ever after!"

Tedros, who thinks he may have been guilty of telling a less gruesome version of the same story before, grimaces vaguely.

"What about the Evil Queen who sent the knights?" shouts a little boy.

"Oh, the King pushed her off a cliff and she went splat and died." says Alex.

Tedros chokes, wondering who the hell had told her that specific rumour-

Actually, no, he can almost guarantee it was Callis.

The kids cheer at the grisly end, as kids generally tend to, and Alex claps her hands together, grinning.

"Alright, that's the end! Your parents will be out of court, now! C'mon!"

The kids boo and complain, but Alex is insistent, herding them back to their unamused nursemaids. Tedros knows most of them are somewhat resentful towards Alex, since Agatha just re-appointed Callis instead of choosing any of them to look after her.

"Do the magic!" shouts one of the littlest girls, tottering over towards her. "One more!"

Alex considers this.

"Hmm, I don't know... I need to sneeze pretty bad and I wouldn't want that to ruin it."

A chorus of pleading rises from the short sea of heads and mittens. Alex holds up a hand, clearly pantomiming a sneeze...

Then she sneezes for real, and Tedros winces as fire shoots out of her nose, scorching the ground and the front of her jerkin. The kids burst into screams and laughter and finally agree to waddle away, Alex waving them off and wiping soot from her face.

"Princess Alex! Are you a dragon?" shouts one of the boys, being carried away by his nursemaid.

"Why do you think I'm a dragon, Leo?"

"You got fire, like the dragons! An' you know all about it!"

Alex grins.

"Well, I don't have any wings or big teeth or talons, but-"

She blew smoke into the snowy air.

"I do have fire. So, who knows?"

The kids hurry off, looking eagerly back over their shoulder at her, clearly discussing the merits of being a dragon.

Grinning, Alex turns to grab her boots-

And turns to find Tedros holding them out to her.

She gives a little yelp of joy and flings her arms around him.

"Old man!"

Tedros, who has long been accustomed to being insulted by his children, merely grins and ruffles her hair, even shorter than Agatha's had been when he'd first known her.

"Mom said you can't talk, is that true?"

Tedros stares at her, unimpressed. Alex blinks expectantly for a few seconds- then cackles.

"Oh, right, dumb question-"

She plops down on the floor to put her boots back on.

"Like my trick? Gran hates it, thinks it's disgusting, but Mom and Mark think it's funny and Ros keeps trying to make me do it so I think she thinks it's funny too, even though she pretends she doesn't."

Tedros smiles at her, watching her try to unpick a knot in her bootlaces. She's always been good at entertaining children, probably because she's three years older than her siblings, and has the big sister mode down perfectly.

Speaking of her siblings…

"You've burnt the laces on your jerkin." says Rosalind, descending the stairs with her court gown hiked up to her knees. Highly improper, but Rosalind spends most of her life dancing between what was proper and what wasn't. "Doing that stupid trick, again?"

"The old man likes it!" protests Alex, examining her scorched clothes.

"Because he does equally stupid things with his magic." sniffs Rosalind. Tedros pulls the veil at the back of her headdress as she passes him, knowing full well she's just pretending she's not pleased to see him. She shoves him and they exchange a few attempts at trying to frost burn one another, even though they know full well it doesn't work.

"Where's Mom?" demands Alex, tottering to her feet.

"Arguing with courtiers." says Rosalind, marching over to examine the new snow settling in the circle Alex had melted.

"Naturally." Alex looks up at the heavy grey clouds. "Can we go in? I don't like being snowed on. It just melts."

"Sucks to be you, I guess." says Rosalind.

Tedros glances to his right and finds that Marcus has appeared at his side, having made a silent approach as usual. He's not even paying attention to his sisters' arguing, instead flicking through some notes from the meeting and picking unmelting snowflakes from his glasses. Tedros puts his hand on his head to get his attention.

Marcus seems to guess what he wants to know. Since he's the most involved in the magical research (Alex is too restless, and Rosalind uninterested), he'll have the most to do with Nicola.

"She seems like a good addition." he says, folding his papers and tucking them inside his doublet. "She has no concept of court customs, but I suppose that's why you sent her here."

It's true; Agatha has become extremely lax in terms of enforcing etiquette in her court. Tedros and Callis are still the only one besides officials and servants who know the proper table layout and what order dignitaries have to be introduced in.

Perhaps that's best. Though it does mean the Camelot dignitaries get headaches when they're obligated to host anyone from Gavaldon, nowadays.

They head back inside after all, and Tedros trails behind his children, watching them rattle down the corridor and bounce off one another like stray marbles- Alex trotting, Rosalind sauntering, and Marcus wandering behind them, clearly not really paying attention. They all have a very strong resemblance to one another, except their complexions- Alex is tan, the twins are stark pale- and that Alex bleaches her hair blonde and the twins dye theirs dark. It has never made sense to Tedros why they'd bother, but Rosalind claims vanity, Marcus claims it makes him less noticeable and keeps him and Rosalind looking like twins, and although Alex has never said it, Tedros rather thinks it's because she wants to resemble him, in some way. She's almost a clone of Agatha, otherwise, save her broad shoulders and crooked teeth-

As he has the thought, Agatha emerges from a side passage and falls into step beside him.

"Alex entertaining the kids again?"

Tedros nods. She snorts, accepting his proffered arm.

"Familiar little story, isn't it? I think Callis has been embellishing it."

Tedros, who swears he never included the fate of the Evil Queen, looks across at her to agree, and finds that she's veiled. Disgruntled, he leans over and pushes it back, and she doesn't move to stop him, but does shoot him a look.

"You know it's a political move, Tedros, don't sulk."

Tedros ignores her, flattening her fringe for her. She smiles despite herself, and takes a breath to say something-

Shrieking and arguing erupts from further down the corridor, and Tedros turns to see Rosalind snatching her skirts up and sprinting after Alex, both bashing through the door at the end of the hall and disappearing. Marcus trails after them, their long-suffering referee.

"We should probably go and break that up." says Agatha. Tedros nods.

Neither of them walk any faster.

Agatha leans against him and Tedros kisses her free hand. It snows harder. Alex, somewhere beyond, starts shouting about snowballs inside and don't be a little shit, Ros- but then abruptly goes quiet. Tedros counts to five...

A sheepish "Sorry, Grandma." from both girls is just about audible.

"I love it when it's not me that Callis is telling off." grins Agatha. "It's such a nice change."

Tedros looks sceptical. Callis has always been slightly too lenient on Agatha, in his opinion. Agatha catches the look.

"You didn't witness my preteen phase of abusing my magic to mean she didn't make me do things."

Tedros, who had done the exact same thing at eight, snorts. Agatha continues;

"Though, she did turn a deliberately blind eye when I did it to Vanessa."

Tedros must react in some way to the mention of Vanessa, because Agatha turns to stare searchingly at him. For a second, they just look at one another-

"Ah, there you two are!" Sophie shoves her way in-between them and loops her arms through one of theirs each. "Tedros, control your brat, won't you? She shouted so loudly I smudged my makeup."

Knowing she means Rosalind, since Sophie tends to align the children by the powers, Tedros makes a point of ignoring her. He not-so-secretly enjoys Sophie and Rosalind's scraps.

"I know it was her and Marcus that defaced that portrait of Mother, as well. I mean, it was very funny, but it doesn't look proper. Alexandra keeps taking them down, as well."

Tedros can't resist a croaky;

"Good."

"Of course that's the first thing you manage to say." mutters Agatha. Tedros smiles innocently at her.

"Well, yes." says Sophie. "I can't say I'm particularly sad to see those ghastly portraits go. I swear her eyes follow me, sometimes. Old witch."

Agatha snorts.

"I never thought it was possible for someone to hate Vanessa more than Callis and I, but you two give us a run for our money."

She moves ahead to open the door, and Sophie and Tedros make eye contact behind her back.

They look away without saying anything.

It's in the past.

But at least someone knows the truth, the full truth, even if it's just Nicola, a random village girl.

Maybe she'll spread the word.


NOTE: hey guys! not sure how many ppl actually read this on here but I figured I'd write a note anyway. I know I don't generally do authors notes etc on here and tend to be pretty silent, but I thought I ought to inform you guys that I'm not really intending on posting much on this website anymore, now I've finished Burn. There's a very small audience and the whole format of this website is a massive pain. I won't take anything down, but I have stopped updating Alex Vs here, and a lot of my newer stuff isn't on here at all- I post all of my fics on Archive of Our Own and Wattpad, so please go there for any more writing from me! I may put a few things on here but the majority of my new writing will not be posted on FF anymore. I also have instagram and tumblr, pumpkinpaperweight on both websites, so that's how you can keep up with me for fic updates and other posts! Apologies if anyone's disappointed but for the amount of effort it takes to upload and the rapidly shrinking audience on here, it feels pretty pointless to continue posting on this website. So yeah, come and find me on Archive of Our Own, Wattpad, Instagram or Tumblr! Thank you for the kind comments on this fic, those who did read it :)