The "Not" Queen

Just a Dream

He felt like hell.

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't breathe through his nose.

And yet, it was Agatha's tossing and turning that woke him.

He wasn't mad. Far from it. He was concerned. She often tossed and turned at night, mumbling things he was unable to decipher. It hurt, but whenever he asked, she would blush and say she didn't know what she was saying either. 

Now, he listened. He listened like he did every time she woke him up like this, trying to decipher what she was saying so that maybe he could piece together one of the many mysteries Agatha kept secret.

He hated secrets, considering they were the reason his mother run away with Lancelot and the reason he and Agatha were sick now. 

But, even though he hated secrets, his love for Agatha had made it hard to push her. One of the many things he loved about her was her ability to push back with him; something he rarely saw in other people. Most people wanted to please him; make him happy. 

He would ask someone to jump and they would ask how high.

But if he told Agatha to jump, she would show him a cliff and repeat the word.

A small smile reached his lips as he began recalling reasons he loved Agatha. He was drawn out when Agatha whimpered once more, tears on her cheeks. She said something else, a name of sorts. Something along the lines of Max.

Max? Maxon? Maxwell? There where many names that began with Max. He couldn't pay much attention to it however, as Agatha was beginning to trash violently. Sitting up, he gently shook Agatha's shoulder, trying to wake her up as gently as he could.

"Agatha. Agatha, wake up." He whispered, shaking her a little harder. "Agatha, please." Tedros continued, pulling away when she shot up, gasping loudly. A sob escaped quickly after. She grabbed her chest, panting as she coughed a few times.

"T-Ted-Tedros?" She stuttered, looking around the dark room. Leaning over to where Agatha's bedside candle was, he struck a match and lit it, illuminating the room in a soft glow. "What happened?" She sniffled, wiping her eyes.

"You were having a nightmare again." Tedros continued, blowing out the match and moving the candle as close to the bed as he dared. "Agatha..."

"No." She said quickly. 

"Agatha, I know you don't want to talk about it...but I think it would help you." He began once again. "You make me talk through my nightmares and fever dreams. We said no secrets and I don't like that your hiding something from me. I want to help you and it's hard to help when I don't know what's wrong."

"It's nothing." Agatha said quietly. She curled in on herself, looking anywhere but Tedros.

"Agatha, it's not nothing if it has you waking up in tears and shakes. You've been having nightmares, and correct me if I'm wrong, but the same nightmare for almost the entire time I've been in here." Tedros said, moving to try and look at her.

"Leave it, Tedros." Agatha said, sharper.

"Don't make me use the status card." Tedros shot back, darker than he wanted. It wasn't healthy for her to keep this in. He wanted to know and not pushing her had gone on too long. It was obvious she was hurting and he didn't know what was hurting her. If it was him or the food...maybe something he did?

"You wouldn't dare." Agatha turned to him, eyes narrowed. Tedros sat up straighter, looking at her, giving her a chance to back out. When she continued to stare at him, he sighed.