My Ranking Points
Chapter two of my fanfiction- POSTED ABOUT A WEEK AGO-
It didn’t take long for Agatha to be seen.
Now, thick, sausagey fingers gripped her hair, twisting the thick locks, dragging her unceremoniously down the stone steps that lead to the dungeons of the castle. The cold, rough stone material scraped her knees, drawing blood, staining the gold-cream dress she wore. Looking down at it, she remembered being dressed in it only hours ago by her royal beauty team- when she was queen. But now…it only made her feel sick. Blood smeared the frilled hemline. Agatha looked away.
“Enjoy!” the man dragging her leered, stopping suddenly and takling out a long, rusted key. He slotted it into the keyhole, turning it with a horrible screeching sound, and pushed open the low, rotten-wood door. Agatha had never been pushed to the ground so hard; the jagged stone sliced her knees painfully, but she was laready a bleeding mess, and a few extra blood-stains made no difference to her now-scarlet self.
The door was slammed shut, the horrible clicking on the key reminding her that she was really going to die soon. In a few days, a few years, a few hours…who knew? Rhian could keep them waiting as long as he liked.
Agatha look in the small, dingy ceel, green gloop dripping from between the cracks in the stone wall, the squeak of rats in the corner.
“This is worse than living in the graveyard,” she muttered, remembering her cat, her old graveyard home in Gavaldon, her mother, who had sacrificed herself so her daughter could live…
All for nothing. Look where said daughter was now.
Deciding she should make the most of her situation, Agatha sat down in the dryest, warmest patch of floor, and wondered what could be done. She tested the walls- solid as mountains. The door wouldn’t budge either.
Then Agatha heard a ragged sigh, and jumped- she had thought she was alone. Clearly not- a shadow lurked in a far corner, slumped egainst a wall, sat on the floor wide-legged. She recognised the tone of his voice, the smooth ridges of his ripped muscles, the curls of har glinting gold in the pale light… Tedros!
“Tedros?” she whispered, inching slowly towards him. He didn’t look up. His shirt had been stripped from him, and he was in a pair of blood-stained breeches, golden chest bare and gleaming with sweat although the cell was freezing cold. His head hung low, chin rested on his chest. His blue eyes looked blankly down.
But no…he sighed again, voice trembling. Agatha rushed to his side and took his face in her hands, lifting his chin- tears trailed down his gorgeous face, his chiselled cheekbones. Agatha had never seen her prince look so defeated and helpless.
She wanted nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and cry, but she had to be the prince here.
“Terdros…look at me…”
He didn’t. It was like he was ignoring her. With a pang, she remembered their earlier argument- and she realised she had been the cause of all this. If she had’t ordered Rhian to kill the’ ‘snake’, he wouldn’t have recieved the key and pulled Arthur’s sword and become king. Of course, Tedros must see it like that…her like the enemy. He had every right to be angry at her. Hate her.
Tears stung her brown eyes. She wiped them away and wrapped her prince in a warm embrace. At first he stiffened in her arms, but then his muscles relaxed and fell into her, sobbing and sobbing, soaking her dress with his tears, curled up like a little boy in his mother’s arms. Agatha stroked through his golden hair and kissed his forehead softly, letting him cry. Then she felt him sit up straight, and pulled away. Tedros held out his arms and it was her turn to curl up and cry, safe against his bare chest, feeling hard muscle beneath her cheek, his fingers smoothing her hair.
“I’m sorry…all…my…fault…”she choked, but Tedros shook his head.
“No…my fault. You did what you had to do, Agatha, when you saved my life. It was my fault…you were right. I was a ******* king. No wonder excalibur let himself be pulled by Rhian. He really is a true King…what I never could be.”
Agatha stiffened- was he making a dig at her, reminding her of when he heard her telling Sophie that he thought he wasn’t a great king? But no…he wasn’t. His eyes were full of remorse and self-blame.
“That’s why the kingdoms cheered for Rhian. Because I didn’t help them.”
“But Rhian is the snake, Tedros!”
“Yes, he is! He only saved the kingdoms from himself…he planned the actual attacks. What if the peop,e of Camelot knew that…”
“They wouldn’t care. Rhian pulled the sword. He is the true lion.”
Agatha knew he was right- but they couldn’t just give in. They couldn’t just let themselves die.
“We need to escape, Ted-”
“Agatha…let’s just make the most of our final few minutes together.”
She wanted to argue, but he held a finger to her lips, smiling sadly. He leaned in and touched his lips softly to hers, and Agatha felt the familiar swell between their mouths, the taste of vanilla clouds and honey and honesty on her tongue as his kiss grew more passionate, gripping her hair, holding her chin to his mouth like he never wanted to stop kid=ssing his beautiful queen…
“Well, well, well. Here me and Ani thought you’d be spending your time together planning how to escape…”
The two broke apart, blushing, and Agatha’s face broke into a grin as she saw the three people she thought she’d never see alive again.