filling in canon: sge oneshots

everlong

"You know what I think our problem is?"

"I don't care for your post-lunch epiphanies," said Agatha, scraping turmeric out of the bowl with her fingernails. "Stay still."

"No," insisted Tedros, wrestling onto his elbows to try and press the point. "Come on, you do this every time–"

"Stay still or I'll tear your mortal wound open."

"On purpose or by accident?"

"If you don't shut up, on purpose. I will literally put my fingers in it and tear it open like a princess flinging her silk curtains aside to a glorious summer day."

Tedros's mouth shut with a clop, and he dropped back onto Agatha's lumpy mattress with bad grace. Agatha checked his stitches, very aware he was squinting resentfully at her, then sat back and patted his washboard stomach patronisingly.

"All done, your highness."

"You know–"

"No, Tedros, I don't care to know!" Agatha intercepted his arm where he tried to grab her. She made to shove him, and he tried to shove her back. Agatha miscalculated her dodge, went too far to the right– and fell off the bed, dragging him with her.

Swearing and holding her arm where Tedros had landed on it, Agatha hauled herself upright.

"You're really heavy..." Then she noticed Tedros was still on the floor, peering under her bed. "What are you d– NO, NO–!"

She saw what he was inching out from under the boxes and coats and lunged, but Tedros was a consummate athlete, even with a hole in his chest, and much faster. He scrabbled under her arms and vaulted over the other side of the bed, clutching the storybook he'd extracted. Agatha knew exactly which one it was, and what page it was open on, because she'd left it there, months before.

Tedros held the book up so the final painting, the one of the blonde prince and the dark-haired princess kissing at their wedding, peeked over the top of the bed. He grinned cheekily.

"You happen to like that page? We could recreate–"

"Boil your head!"

Tedros made the wise decision and disappeared down the opposite side of the bed. After a second, he popped back up again, looking slightly less smug and slappable.

"Were you looking at this?"

"Not recently." crabbed Agatha, settling into a sulky heap. "Before... we came back into the Woods. Maybe. A bit."

Tedros looked back down at the book. Agatha looked at the floor, aware she was going red, and resenting it.

Then there was the squeaky complaint of springs, and Tedros came scrabbling back over to her side again.

"Go away," said Agatha.

"Shan't." Tedros said, settling himself imperiously next to her and putting the book in his lap. He hadn't put his shirt back on, and even with a few weeks in Gavaldon, he was still managing to smell nice. Agatha wondered if he was raiding her mother's herbs. "I've discovered a crucial context clue–" he leant in and whispered– "to unravelling your mysterious and austere exterior."

Agatha drew her shoulders up at how his breath tickled her neck.

"I don't have a mysterious and austere exterior."

Tedros leant back a bit, looking satisfied he'd managed to force her to talk to him.

"You put up fronts."