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“So, what do we do then?” said blond Bert.
“How do we win?” asked blonder Beckett.
“How else? Make Tedros kill Agatha,” a voice said.
The crowd turned to Hort.
“It’s the second test, ain’t it?” he groused, waving his cup, splashing cider everywhere. “Dear ol’ Teddy spears her and he wins. Then all he has to do is finish the third test and the Snake’s dead. Trade Agatha’s life for ours. That’s what a king would do.”
The Clearing went silent.
“What?” Agatha gawked at him, suddenly cold. “How could-- Hort, I thought we were friends--”
“What you get for hoardin’ Sophie to yourself,” Hort murmured.
A beat.
Agatha flamed furious red.
“SOPHIE?” she shouted. “YOU THINK I SHOULD DIE, BECAUSE YOU’RE STILL JEALOUS ABOUT SOPHIE NOT PAYING YOU ATTENTION? YOU SNIVELLING LITTLE RAT--”
Then Tedros appeared over Hort’s shoulder.
No one had noticed him stand up, but suddenly he was there, and his hand closed hard on Hort’s collar. He wrenched him around, Hort opened his mouth indignantly--
Hort was much burlier than he had been in first year, and for all intents and purposes, he probably should have been reasonably able to hold his own in a fight. But he was drunk, he was not paying attention, and unlike Tedros, he had not played rugby religiously in first year.
If she was honest, Agatha had been expecting something along the lines of angsty silence on Tedros’s part.
Not for Tedros to open-hand clout Hort face-first into a tree, with a ridiculous amount of power behind it.
A few of the younger first years screamed. Beatrix cheered, loudly, and got shushed by a few people. Agatha took a very decisive step back, suddenly sensing that Hort was going to get a lot more than a verbal bashing.
For a second, there was complete silence in the Clearing. Hort staggered backwards from the tree, the pattern of the bark plastered to his cheek, gaping.
“You just--”
Then it seemed to dawn on him that Tedros had gotten a hit in.
With a roar, Hort hurled himself on top of Tedros, and triggered a clear-cut brawl.
Tedros was faster, naturally, since he was sober; he flipped them over, forced Hort onto the floor and swung for him, a hit which Hort only just avoided. He jabbed his knee into Tedros’s gut, and Tedros deliberately drove his elbow into Hort’s neck, knocking the wind out of him. Hort flailed wildly and managed to catch Tedros in the jaw, knocking him off him, and into the grass. Newly free, Hort scrabbled out into the clear-- and got firmly flattened into the dirt by Tedros hurling himself on top of him.
The Clearing erupted into chaos. A handful of first years sprinted for the castle, no doubt to summon the rest of the professors, and were nearly flattened by said teachers emerging in a stampede from the Tunnel of Trees. The older Everboys, Tedros’s friends and classmates, hooted and hollered, and Beatrix and Mona scrambled up one of the oaks for a better look. The Nevers were openly betting, and most of the Evergirls looked stuck between being interested and being horrified.
Agatha glanced furtively around, suddenly glad for her newfound irrelevancy in the face of the fight, but also slightly stunned. Tedros got into fights a lot, but this wasn’t really a fight; this was a brawl serving as a revenge mission.
Castor’s voice rose over the tumult, still louder than the howling students;
“STOP GAWKING AND STOP THEM!”
“Oh yes, stop them…” contributed Anemone unconvincingly, hopping from one foot to the other with unbridled excitement, a huge grin plastered over her face. “Oh, I love honour duels--” she whispered to herself--
“Emma!” hissed Lukas. Anemone blinked.
“What? Oh. Yes, do stop them--”
Agatha rolled her eyes… then found the rest of the staff staring expectantly at her.
“You want me to stop it? What am I supposed to do, fling myself between them in a demure and beseeching way?” she sneered, still smarting from what Hort had said. “Hell no.”
“It’s a fight over you!” said Sheeks.
“So?” demanded Agatha.
“THEY’LL KILL EACH OTHER.” shouted Castor.
“DIDN’T SEE YOU INTERVENING WHEN HORT GENUINELY SUGGESTED KILLING ME!” Agatha bellowed back.
Clearly Tedros heard her, because his hand closed firmly around Hort’s ankle as he tried to crawl away and dragged him bodily backwards, like a demon out of one of her mother’s stories. Hort yanked his foot out of his grip, scrabbled to his feet-- and stamped on Tedros’s face. Agatha cringed as something cracked, and the Everboys groaned--
Tedros swept his arm around, grabbed Hort’s leg, and knocked Hort onto the ground again. Hort clawed his way across the grass, looking for a way out, as Tedros lurched to his feet like some possessed marionette, snarling and jerking in his wake--
As Tedros stooped to grab him, Hort snatched up the discarded cider bottle and smashed it over Tedros’s head.
Agatha swore loudly, and people ducked as glass went flying--
But the choice was a bad one for Hort, because something in Tedros simply seemed to tear loose. Spitting blood, he lunged with a primal yell and pinned Hort to the ground, holding him by the throat.
“STOP, STOP--” Castor went bulling forwards, and was promptly tripped into a sprawling heap by Beatrix, who clearly was rooting for Tedros.
Behind Agatha, Bastian and Tarquin were commentating idly;
“Yeah, clever.” muttered Bastian. “Put his drunkard father on his mind, that’s a great way to lose half a dozen teeth…”
“Didn’t Oliver have to get one of his front ones glued back on?”
“Oh, yeah, after that we didn’t talk about Arthur anymore…”
“Er,” Hester appeared next to Agatha. “It’s not that I’m not enjoying seeing Hort getting beaten to a pulp, because some of my better dreams feature that in gory detail, but… why is Tedros beating Hort to a pulp?”
“Hort said Tedros should just kill me so he could win the Trial of Kings.” said Agatha.
Hester’s nostrils flared.
“He wha--”
“Amazingly, I think Tedros has it covered for once.” said Anadil, coming up to them with the child Merlin held firmly at arm’s length. “Hester, this thing smells.”
“It’s a baby, they do smell.” snapped Hester. “Listen, if Tedros loses this--”
“It’s not like it’s a tournament.” sniffed Agatha. “Does it matter? This isn’t some honour thing, he’s just pissed right off.”
“Kind of is an honour thing, though.” said Dot. “It’s about yours.”
Agatha scowled, but she followed Dot’s gaze to the older Everboys, the ones that were left from the fourth years, who had formed a loose sort of semi-circle nearby. Despite all that might have happened, Tedros was still their king, and Agatha suspected there was some sort of chivalry protocol for this sort of thing.
“She’s right.” said Anadil.
“...well, it’s the… just the principle of it, isn’t it...” Agatha muttered awkwardly, not really sure what she was trying to say. She shoved her hands under her folded arms, suddenly embarrassed.
They watched Hort trying to climb one of the oaks. Tedros grabbed him around the ankles and yanked him violently down, letting Hort crack his chin on one of the lower branches. Even though Agatha knew better, there was a vindictive little piece of her that was rather enjoying this.
“He should go for the eyes.” said Anadil mildly.
“THIS IS WHY SOPHIE ALWAYS LIKED ME BETTER!” Tedros bellowed from where Hort was trying to kick his knees in. Hort lunged for him--
A blast of pink light blasted them apart.
“I think,” said Sophie thinly. “I will be needing a little bit more context before I can pass judgement on that.”
“‘M not gonna kill you.” said Tedros, later.
“Thanks.” said Agatha glumly. “The bar is in hell.”
“Jus’ clarifyin’.”
“I gathered that was the case when you tried to strangle Hort. Stop putting that down.”
“Hand’s col’.” said Tedros thickly, trying to adjust the tea-towel Anemone had wrapped around the ice. Agatha sighed deeply and snatched it off him.
“Let me do that.”
“...‘kay. Th’nks.”
Agatha got the impression Tedros was trying to side-eye her, to gauge her mood, but since his right eye was mostly swollen shut, it wasn’t really working. She sighed and put the ice back over it. Tedros winced, but didn’t pull away. Allegedly Hort looked worse, but Agatha wasn’t sure that was possible, given Tedros had a split lip, a black eye, a couple of cracked ribs, and had needed stitches on his temple.
Tedros probed his sticky shoulder.
“Where’d he even get cider from, ‘nyway?”
“God knows.” Agatha huffed, pulling his hair back. “Didn’t you get cut by that bottle?”
She picked a couple of glass shards out of his curls. Tedros shrugged.
“Don’t th’nk so. Lucky.” he picked at the scab forming over his eye and Agatha slapped his hand off it.
They sat on the candy plum desk in Anemone’s classroom and listened to people arguing down the hall.
“Why’d you go so crazy?” muttered Agatha, pulling a loose thread out her skirt. “He was just being a git.”
Tedros did not answer. He dabbed surprisingly delicately at his bleeding nose.
“‘s it broken?” he asked, instead.
“How should I know?” grouched Agatha, extracting a candied plum from the desk and biting a chunk out of it. “It’s your nose. He stepped on your face, so it should be… but probably not, you’d have two black eyes if that was the case.”
“Hm.”
“Why, will you cry if I say yes?
“No.” said Tedros primly. “’t’ll make me look rugged ‘nd sexy. Say yes.”
Against her better will, Agatha choked on the plum and started laughing. Tedros slammed her on the back a few times, but he looked rather pleased with himself under the black eye.
They sat in silence for a while. Agatha finished her plum, threw the stone at Tedros just for fun, and had another. Tedros watched her narrowly. Agatha pretended that she wasn’t stress-eating.
“Sorry,” she said, finally. Tedros caught her drift.
“‘S fine. He’d have got the pearl if you hadn’t, and that would have been worse.” His face darkened, and he sniffed, wiping blood off his lip. Agatha smacked him.
“Don’t sniff, you’ll swallow all the blood and make yourself feel sick. Lean forwards if it’s bleeding again.”
Tedros didn’t seem to hear her.
“‘s all his fault.” he murmured.
“Hort’s?” snorted Agatha--
“My father’s.”
Agatha stilled. To her memory, she had never really heard Tedros say a bad word about Arthur. She’d thought he refused to.
“It wa’ his decree.” Tedros said vaguely, as if it had only just occurred to him. “He said you had t’ die.”
Agatha bit back a I don’t give a shit what your mouldy dad said and shrugged.
“Yeah.”
“I won’t.” Tedros said softly. “‘d sooner die. Fuck ‘im.”
“You’re doing a good job of dying in my stead.” muttered Agatha, probing his black eye gently. “Can you see out of that?”
“No’ really.”
“Mm.” Agatha eyed him. “This is a very extreme 180, Tedros. What happened to honouring Arthur?”
Tedros’s bruised jaw twitched. He toyed with one of the specks of glass Agatha had picked out of his hair.
“Smell of cider reminded me of his las’ months. Think I… sugar-coated my memories o’ him. Somewha’.” he paused. “Lots. Actually.”
“And that’s why you went nuts on Hort?”
“No.” said Tedros petulantly. “Went nuts on Hort ‘cause he’s a git an’ cause everyone looked at me like they expected me to agree wi’ him’, an’ it pissed me off.”
Agatha groaned. Tedros looked wounded.
“I wasn’t gonna do nothin’.”
“You could’ve.”
“No!”
Agatha rolled her eyes and went to find something else to eat off the wall. In the reflection of the sugar-glass window, she could see Tedros staring at her worriedly. She pursed her lips and pulled a wedge of gingerbread off the wall before returning to the desk.
“Here.” she snapped it in half and gave him the bigger half.
“Th’nks.” said Tedros softly.
Outside, a group of first year Everboys were chattering;
“I’ll fight like that for Priyanka.”
“You? You can’t even take a punch, let alone having your face stamped on, I’ll do it--”
“He just floored him--”
“We should do rugby more…”
Agatha turned her head back, and noticed the smug look on Tedros’s bruised face. She sighed, and patted his knee.
“Thank you for defending my honour, my liege. Never do it again, ever.”
Tedros beamed at her with bloody teeth.
“’m gonna do it ‘gain.”
“Like hell you are.” Tedros’s hand slid up her back and Agatha caught his chin, eyebrows raised. “Um, no, I’m not kissing you. You stink and you’re still covered in blood.”
Tedros scowled. Agatha grinned.
“Go and have a bath and I’ll think about it.”
Grumbling, Tedros slid gingerly off the desk and limped across to the door.
“Don’t drown.” Agatha leaned back, exhausted--
“You don’t wanna come and make sure?” Tedros asked sweetly from the doorway.
Agatha’s plucked a candied plum from under her palm and launched it at his head. Tedros ducked out of the classroom, snorting, and Agatha followed him, taking her gingerbread with her--
The classroom door opposite them bashed open.
“Mr Pendragon, you are still just a student at this school, and if you think you are getting away with giving another student the beating of a lifetime, you are sorely mistaken.” said Yuba. “You will apologise to Hort.”
Tedros’s jaw jutted.
“I’ll ‘pologise to Hort when he does th’ same for Agatha.”
“He’ll do it eventually.” said Agatha. “Maybe. Better to get the moral high ground.”
She said it semi-cynically, but it was probably best to clear the air. There was no merit in fuelling Hort’s resentment, not with the situation they were in. He’d certainly learned his lesson, at least. Agatha just hoped he hadn’t meant it.
Yuba ignored both of them. “Get in here, now. You’re not Ki--”
From behind Tedros, Agatha drew an aggressive line across her throat and Yuba smoothly changed tracks.
“--killing someone just because they were rude to Agatha.”
“He’s still alive, isn’t he?” grumbled Tedros.
“NOW, TEDROS.” shouted Espada from inside. Tedros rolled his good eye and sloped inside, and, grinning, Agatha poised to leave--
Anemone stuck her head out.
“Agatha, you called Hort a snivelling little rat and shouted at your teachers, you can come in as well.”
“What? But-- Professor, you were enjoying the fight--!”
Anemone ignored her, and her gaze dipped to her hands-- “Is that part of the wall?”
“No.” lied Agatha shamelessly. She looked to her left, out of the window. “Oh my god, is that a Camelot Patrol?”
Anemone’s head whipped around and Agatha bolted for the Purity stairs with her contraband, cackling. Relatively soon, she heard yelling and the thunder of boots that suggested Tedros had followed her. Honestly, she didn’t know what they’d expected.
Like Yuba had said, they were still just students.
For now, at least.