3: Camelot

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Agatha has already had a terrible trip, so a pre-arrival breakfast with Vanessa where she feels too unwell to eat anything is not making her feel any better. 

It seems that absolutely nothing to do with sea travel agrees with her; she developed raging seasickness overnight, and spent most of yesterday being sick. 

Maybe she'll outlaw boats when she's Queen. 

"What happened to your face?" Demands Vanessa the second Agatha slumps in her chair.

At least spending all of yesterday being sick meant that she hadn't had to see her mother.

"Fell and smacked my head on a chest of drawers." Mutters Agatha, scanning the food for something she could stomach. She doesn't think Vanessa much cares what actually happened to her, so a vague answer ought to stuffice.

"Well, be more careful." Snaps Vanessa, proving Agatha's theory. 

"Not like I did it on purpose." Mumbles Agatha.

"Stop neglecting your veil." Vanessa tells her sharply, by way of reply, then turns back to her plate of fruit.

Agatha glares at the pastries she feels too sick to eat. The pastries do nothing.

She decides that they're mocking her and sinks down in her chair, messily pouring a cup of over-brewed tea and waving away Callis's offerings of milk.

Vanessa glares at the spilled tea seeping into the tablecloth. Agatha blots it half-heartedly with a napkin and sits back to take tiny sips from the mug, resenting that it would hurt too much to chug the entire thing in one go. It would be worth it, to see Vanessa's face, but she'd rather not spend the next hour passed out. 

Not, obviously, because it's too hot; but more because drinking too much at once is painful. She's never tested the theory that she can go without water entirely-- mainly because Callis won't let her try-- but she certainly doesn't need it in the same way everyone else does. But she likes tea, and coffee, and those fruit juices that the girls at the market sell, so she drinks anyway, albeit incredibly slowly.

Sophie is slicing an apple into tiny pieces opposite her, and Callis isn't eating anything, presumably in solidarity. 

"How long until we get there?" Asks Sophie brightly, cutting into the awkward silence. Vanessa smiles at her. 

"The city should be coming into view around now, according to the captain. We'll be docked in an hour or so. Isn’t it exciting--?”

Agatha stands up abruptly.

"I'm going to look." She says. Vanessa frowns.

"Your veil--"

"Who's going to see me? We're an hour away. Besides, I'd like to look with unobscured eyes, thanks."

Agatha turns and makes for the stairs before Vanessa can stop her.

----

It's so early that the sun's not properly breached the mountains to the east, yet. 

Agatha leans against the mast in the cool, dim morning and watches Camelot come into view, slowly being unveiled by the early morning mist. 

It's bigger than Gavaldon, is her first realisation. Far bigger. Sprawling masses of mismatched buildings stretch in every direction, tumbling over each other in crooked stacks of brick until they trail off into the distance and disappear. Occasionally a church spire or higher roof interrupts the uniform mess, a landmark in what must be a labyrinth of twisting streets. There are a huge variety of ships in the harbour, too, all flying different colours; Jaunt Jolie, Foxwood, Hamelin…

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