Work Text:
Agatha wore an elegant blood-red dress and her black crown as she sat rigidly in near silence. Unmitigated silence, if not for the footsteps of servants and guards in the halls.
She was staring intently at an expertly detailed painting on the wall across the room. From where she was sitting she couldn’t see it very descriptively, but no matter, she had every detail of her prince's portrait engraved in the deepest layer of her brain.
She was certain she had looked at it at least a hundred thousand times, but she couldn’t stop herself.
And that was simply because it seemed that her entire existence prior to the day of her ascension was completely irrelevant. Her memories from before that time were shadowed, foggy.
But her every recollection from there on out was vivid, pronounced. In fact, the memory of that day itself held a particular uncloudedness.
For the first time in years, she allowed her eyelids to close as she summoned the sights, sounds, and feelings of the long-absent past.
~C~
Everyone of Camleot bowed their heads in mourning as the casket of the former King was brought down the palace steps, hundreds of guards decked in ceremonial armour clearing their path. The loud trumpets played a beautiful song as wives huddled next to their husbands, and children stood next to their mothers.
Almost all the rulers from every kingdom in the Woods attended his funeral. The Queen of Jaunt Jolie. The Sultan of Shazabah. The Elf King of Ladelflop.
Sophie was there as well. She was standing next to her wife Nicola, looking at Tedros's casket sadly.
So yeah, that's all I got. Basically the rest of it was supposed to be the rest of the funeral, Agatha becoming super cold and cruel and evil, and then some other evil stuff she did. But you can make it any way you want, I guess. Because I am definetely not finishing this.