PART 1: FIRE
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
-- Robert Frost
---
Agatha is shaken from her uneasy half-sleep before the sun has even risen.
"Agatha, sweetheart." Callis leans over her, hand pressed lightly into her hair. "Time to get up."
"It's still dark." says Agatha peevishly.
"The Queen wants to set off early. For... security reasons."
"Security." Agatha sneers, kicking the covers away and sitting up. "Who's going to be taking potshots at us as we leave? They'll be dancing in the streets."
Callis doesn't comment on Agatha's grumblings, as usual. Agatha carries on despite the lack of response.
"Besides, it's not as if her stupid carriages aren't armed to the teeth with enchantments and glass so thick you could knock yourself out on it-- what?"
For Callis is frowning.
"We're not going by carriage." she says.
"Huh?"
"We're going by sea."
"Sea? We're taking the ships?"
"She claims it's faster."
"Faster? We'll have to sail around the Gulf of Gillikin!" Agatha hurls herself out of bed, furious. "You know full well why she chose the ships!"
"There are several reasons she could have done." says Callis, retrieving Agatha's gloves from the floor.
"Don't be cagey with me." snaps Agatha. Callis turns to look at her and Agatha flushes.
"Sorry. Stressed."
"I gathered." Callis holds out the gloves. Agatha carefully takes them from her and pulls them on, trying to avoid touching Callis where she can. Callis turns to rifle through Agatha's wardrobe.
"Nothing fancy?" Agatha asks hopefully. She can't see any new dresses. Callis shakes her head.
"Your mother has arranged for you to be dressed to meet the King when we arrive."
"Oh." says Agatha flatly. "Great."
"Speaking of, I saw the Queen this morning, and she gave this letter to me, to give to you." Callis pulls a thick, heavy envelope from her pocket. "Come here, I'll do your dress laces and you can read it."
Agatha frowns, taking the letter and weighing it in her hand. It's fine quality parchment, heavy and smooth, addressed to her in a sweeping hand.
"Who's it from?"
"Not sure."
Agatha turns the letter over, sees the crest stamped into the wax, and groans.
"I think you're supposed to be more excited when you get a letter from your future husband, you know." says Callis. "Step here."
Agatha distractedly lets Callis lace her into her dress, slitting the letter open and yanking the sheet out--
Something falls to the floor with a clatter. Agatha stoops to pick it up, and finds herself holding a ring; a coiled silver thing with a ruby winking from the centre. Looking closer, she realises it's a dragon, carefully carved, with the ruby for an eye. How egotistical. The royal family with the name Pendragon are sending her a dragon ring. Why should they want to send her a ring--?
Oh, she knows why.
"That's pretty." says Callis diplomatically.
"He's sent me a token." says Agatha, disgusted.
"Read the letter, you cynic."
Reluctantly, Agatha turns her attention to the letter--
"This is dated from a week ago!"
"Queen Vanessa forgot to give it to you, apparently." says Callis.
"Sure she did. I'm sure she didn't try and read it herself, first." mutters Agatha, squinting at the surprisingly neat print scrawled across the parchment;
Esteemed Princess Agatha,
I regret that I haven't had the chance to personally write to you until now; my court say it's not something that's done, but I think it's terribly rude to not even attempt to greet my betrothed before we meet in person. Preparations for your arrival are in full swing here, so I thought I ought to emphasise how very enthusiastic everyone here is to meet you. I feel very fortunate to be entering into a union with someone I've heard so many good things about--
"What's he been hearing about me?" demands Agatha.
"Probably done his research." says Callis.
"So, what, he's heard that I'm dour and unpopular and threw that pitcher of wine over the governor's son? Oh, he was forced to write this--"
She goes back to scanning the letter.
--and I felt I should send something to express my affection. Please accept this ring. I hope it will be agreeable to you.
"Oh, my god, it is. It's a token of his love." groans Agatha.
"He wrote that?" Callis peers over her shoulder.
"Well, he says affection, but it's the same thing, isn't it? He's never even met me--"
Agatha glances at the last few lines.
Until we meet in person,
Yours, fondly,
King Tedros of Camelot.
"Ew." said Agatha decisively.
"Don't even think about burning that." warns Callis.
"Thinking about it." Agatha carefully places the letter on the side, and looks thoughtfully at the ring, for a minute.
Then she snorts and shoves it on, over her glove. It fits, surprisingly.
"Apt, isn't it?" she mutters.
"Just a little." sighs Callis. "Let Sophie read that, she'll be elated."
"I bet she will."
Agatha avoids looking in the mirror, opting for staring at her bare feet instead. Far from making her feel better, the letter has made her incredibly, crushingly, anxious, because it's made it into a reality. She's leaving for Camelot today, to go and marry a man she's never met and knows next to nothing about, aside from that her mother thinks he's a good match. Her brain is conjuring up visions of some fat, bald, lecherous old man waiting for her in Camelot, wanting of heirs and a trophy wife. Her mother's final revenge for a disappointing daughter. Well, he'd be disappointed, too--
Agatha is jerked out of her thoughts by Callis swearing and snatching her hand away from Agatha's exposed neck.
"Shit." Agatha spins to her nursemaid, startled. "Shit, Callis, I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention--"
"Don't be ridiculous." mutters Callis, sucking her burnt knuckle. "Should've noticed. Calm yourself down, I'll get your veil--"
She marches off stoically, Agatha staring guiltily after her.
Yes, Vanessa's disappointing daughter. Dour, unpopular, and reclusive, nothing like her blonde, beautiful mother--
and born with a proficiency for fire magic.
Well. That was understating it a fair bit.
She'd had enough time to research it whilst everyone else was at fancy balls, and it seemed to be the case that she was less magic proficient and more magic created, if you will-- more fire than human. Not a mage specialising in fire magic (she hadn't taught herself to do anything, rather, taught herself not to do things), nor a magic-inclined human with a talent for elements (she couldn't manipulate anything else, just fire) but she was burning and charring and scorching things from the second she was born, and would be doing so until she day she died.
All the fairy tales Agatha had read when she was little had shown beautiful, flawless, magicians summoning fire or water or anything else with just a wave of their hands, and seemingly no effort or struggle for control. Agatha had been confused. Why didn't they scorch their bedsheets and burn people when they tried to hug them? Why didn't they recoil from water and cry when they had to bathe because it hurt so much? Why weren't they forced to wear gloves to suppress it, and a veil to cover up how their veins glowed, not to mention how they looked completely different to their mother--?
She'd later found out that the gloves and the veil were pretty Agatha-exclusive.
She was never seen without either, but especially the veil. No vast oil portraits, no watercolour paintings or sketches, no charming miniatures for suitors to carry, no nothing. (Her mother had plenty, though. You could barely turn a corner without coming across a Vanessa staring imperiously down at you.)
Callis had hated that veil from the moment it was put on and, Agatha thinks, will no doubt hate it until it comes off for good (which will probably be never). Agatha had always attempted to make light of it-- after all, it meant she never had to bother with hair, makeup, or concealing her disdain for odious courtiers-- but Callis wouldn't be moved. In fact, she'd hated pretty much everything Vanessa had decreed to be best for Agatha, but nothing more than the Queen's insistence that everyone should avoid touching her.
---
Agatha has a vivid memory from when she was around three or four, of chasing her mother's retreating skirts into the palace, soaked from falling into a stream, and horrified by how much it hurt her. It wasn't like any pain she'd felt before, not like grazing her knees on the path or falling out of a tree-- it seemed like it was coming from inside, and it hurt. She'd ran after her mother's yellow silken skirts, fat tears running down her cheeks and almost immediately evaporating to nothing, making wobbly attempts to catch Vanessa and get her attention. She'd finally managed it-- one big swipe and she'd caught Vanessa's skirts, stumbling up to her, catching her hand and opening her mouth to tell her what had happened--
Vanessa had snatched her hand away so quickly Agatha had overbalanced and toppled over onto the floor. She'd pried her skirts from Agatha's tiny hand, examined the scorch mark with a cry of horror, then turned furiously to Agatha.
"What did I say about not touching people?"
She gathered up her skirts and fled, leaving Agatha whimpering on the floor, confused and frightened.
Someone had approached from behind and gathered her up, and Agatha had cried in Callis's arms for the entire walk back to her room. Later, Callis had sat her by the fire and very carefully explained to her, while she poked at logs and tried to make pictures out of the flames, that her mother had decided she was to wear enchanted gloves, so she wouldn't burn things when she touched them. Agatha had agreed quickly, hoping that would mean Vanessa wouldn't be upset at her anymore.
It wasn't until that night, when she got up to bother Callis about something or other, and saw her slathering aloe vera all over her chest and arms, that it occurred to her that Callis could be burned, too.
Not that Callis seemed to care. She was almost constantly red, and had innumerable calluses and burn scars on her hands, because she'd never stopped trying to hug her.
Now, Agatha watches Callis re-enter, and squints suspiciously at the veil.
"Has that been re-enchanted?"
Yes, enchanted. Completely impossible to see through. Vanessa was taking no chances.
No wonder the people speculated she was kidnapped, dead, or replaced.
"Oh, yes." says Callis sardonically. "Can't have King Tedros seeing your face prematurely, can we?"
She reaches for her--
"I'll do it." says Agatha quickly.
"I don't think so." says Callis simply. "You always put it on crooked, to irritate your mother, don't think I didn't notice. Body temperature, if you please."
"She's not my mother." mutters Agatha, exhaling slowly to drop her skin temperature to something that could be brushed over without pain.
Callis raised her eyebrows.
"Don't say that in front of her."
"She's not."
"Physically, and legally, she is."
"Well, I wish she wasn't."
"You might, once she cops it and you get lots of pretty things."
"I don't like pretty things." snaps Agatha.
"I know." says Callis, quietly. She takes Agatha's circlet and secures the veil on her head, but she hesitates before she drops the fabric over her face.
"You're coming too, aren't you?" asks Agatha desperately. Callis raises her eyebrows.
"Vanessa wanted to leave me behind, seeing as you're not technically in need of a nursemaid once you're married, but I hear someone went to Vanessa and threw a rather unconventional bargaining chip down."
"I only said that I'd want you to be my children's nursemaid." mutters Agatha.
"Which is a bizarre thing for you to say, considering you don't like children."
"I like some children."
"You like the baker's daughter because she's the baker's daughter, Agatha." sighs Callis. "I'm sure the Queen knows that you don't like children. I'm surprised it worked."
Agatha tries to look innocent.
"Well, she tried to refuse me."
"Did she?"
"I told her I'd leak the details of her magic makeover to the press, if she didn't let me bring you."
She looks back up to Callis's shocked face.
"What?"
"Agatha."
"Was that wrong?"
Callis shakes her head in exasperation, but she's smirking.
"She must have been so angry."
"She went puce, and told me I couldn't do that. I said why not? She couldn't think of an answer, got pissed off, and told me I could have my craggy old nursemaid, get out of my sight."
"Agatha!"
Agatha starts to cackle.
"That's why she didn't let me go to the Peace Ball, you know? And why she took half my jewellery away. Probably why she withheld that letter too... oh, and I bet that's why we're going by boat, hah..."
She laughs harder, watching Callis struggle to control herself.
"I don't think that's why she took your jewellery. I think she just wanted it for herself, honestly."
"Well, that too. She's such an old witch." snorts Agatha. "I bet you anything that this Tedros is a bald, lecherous old man with no teeth and an immense fortune she wants to pilfer, while simultaneously making me suffer."
She gently takes the veil from Callis's hands and drops it over her face.
"Come on." she says. "Lets go and spend two whole days surrounded by water."
-----
Vanessa is fussing over Sophie when they arrive, because of course she is.
"Oh, what a lovely colour, dear, it's perfect for a ship--"
It's not perfect for a ship. Neither of their dresses are. Agatha can't resist rolling her eyes at Sophie's pink chiffon skirts and Vanessa's cloth of gold gown with black embellishments. Their only concession to the mode of transport the fact that there's no train on either dress.
You'd have thought they were the ones they were marrying off.
"--I hope you won't be seasick, I wish we could go by carriage, but--"
Agatha clears her throat. Vanessa's face drops, and she turns reluctantly.
"Oh. Good morning, Agatha. Lady Netherwood."
Callis curtsies. Agatha doesn't bother, just inclines her head slightly.
"Mother."
Vanessa is obviously annoyed, but she doesn't get the chance to say anything, because Sophie is beaming.
"Aggie!" she rushes forwards and grabs her arm. "Isn't this exciting? It's finally the day!"
"We won't even be there for another day." says Agatha, pointedly. She hopes Vanessa can tell she's staring at her. "And the wedding isn't for weeks."
"Oh, pish." Sophie squeezes her bicep. "Come on, darling. No one likes a pedant for a bride."
Agatha snorts. Sophie sighs and drops the argument, still hanging off her arm.
"Will you be alright, travelling by ship?"
Sophie. Another person not afraid of touching her. She's far too touchy to stop herself, and generally doesn't hold onto her long enough for it to hurt her, but Agatha always makes sure she keeps her gloves on and keeps her arms covered when she's with Sophie.
"She'll be fine." says Vanessa smoothly. "But it's very sweet that you're worried, Sophie."
Sophie looks at Agatha for a second opinion.
Agatha makes a non-committal noise, and very deliberately turns away from Vanessa.
"He sent me a letter," she says to Sophie. "Wanna read it?"
"Really? Let me see, let me see--"
"Sent me this ring, too-- ow, don't pull my hand--"
Agatha allows Sophie to gawk at the ring and digs in her pocket for the letter.
"Yes, it's lovely." says Vanessa tersely. "Very kind of him."
Agatha has gathered, through her eighteen years on earth, that Vanessa basically hates for her to have anything nice, ever. So it's a small victory to have this letter, however insincere it may be.
"He says it's a-- what did he say, Callis--? A token of his affection, right. Apparently he's heard lots of good things about me. How sweet."
"Ooh, you lucky old thing!" Sophie snatches the letter and squints furiously at it. Agatha isn't entirely sure her lady-in-waiting is supposed to talk to her like that, but she doesn't care, and Vanessa would let her illegitimate daughter-- whoops, sorry, favoured member of court-- get away with murder.
Vanessa looks sour.
"Well," she says. "Seeing as Agatha is going to be his wife, and live with him, I suppose that's good."
She turns away to shout at the sailors carrying things onboard. Most of the trunks are her own, most likely.
Something occurs to Agatha, and she turns suddenly to Callis.
"What about Reap--"
"I packed for you." says Callis pointedly. "Knowing that we wouldn't be coming back for a good while."
Agatha gets the message.
"Right." she says. "Thank you."
-----
"The servants, apart from Lady Netherwood and Sophie, are going on another ship." says Vanessa, marching up the gangplank. Agatha's temptations to push her off are momentarily quashed by her incredulity.
"Servants? We don't need servants!"
Vanessa ignores her.
"I am bringing Captain Baumann and Countess Jadis--"
Oh, Hester and Anadil are coming too. Thank god. This time last week, they weren't, but Agatha can only assume Vanessa has realised she needs Hester to stop Agatha getting murdered before she's married, and that Agatha desperately needs Anadil's expertise in high society.
"--as well as my maids-- I have been assured the future Queen will be provided with her own upon arrival-- and my dressmaker, as I am unsure whether the fashions in Camelot will be to my taste. A third ship will carry our luggage, and the dowry."
"Dowry?"
Agatha had heard nothing about a dowry. Again, Vanessa ignores her, marching off towards the stairs to belowdecks.
"I will be in my cabin if anyone needs my attention. Tell the Captain, Lady Netherwood."
"Yes, my lady." murmurs Callis.
Agatha glances at her the second Vanessa is gone.
"Where's Reaper?"
"I gave him to Hester to look after." says Callis. "She and Anadil are the only people he wouldn't jump overboard to escape."
"At least he's in good hands." murmurs Agatha.
Sophie is staring after Vanessa, frowning.
"What?" Agatha asks her.
"I hate how she talks like you're not right there." mutters Sophie. Agatha shrugs.
"You're the favourite daughter."
"Shush, Aggie!"
"What? Everyone knows, or at least suspects, by now. Pretty sure she's spreading the rumours herself."
Sophie was a year or so younger than Agatha, which was very convenient. Born not long after the death of Agatha's father, which was even more convenient. Mourning confinement could also cover up an illegitimate pregnancy, see.
Not that it did, obviously.
It just... could.
It didn't.
Obviously.
(Rumour had it that Vanessa had poisoned her husband herself, blaming him for the disaster that was the Heir Apparent. Poor Prince Stefan. Probably wasn't his fault at all.)
"I don't know what she has to gain from it." Sniffs Sophie. "I won't get the throne."
"Makes her look better though, doesn't it? Implies that she actually does look how she presents herself."
"I look like her because she took so much of that appearance magic whilst she was pregnant. She actually looks like you." Murmurs Sophie.
"Oh, I know." Agatha stretches. "I'm going to have a million unveiled portraits commissioned of myself when I'm Queen, so everyone can see it. Make her roll in her grave. Might change her portraits, too. Give her warts."
Sophie sniggers, but she's glancing anxiously at the door to below deck the whole time. Agatha hates that Sophie still wants validation from Vanessa, but she's the only mother figure that Sophie has.
Agatha no longer needs, or wants, any attention from Vanessa.
"Let's go downstairs." she says. "Over these next two days, I want as little to do with water as physically possible."