It's a miracle that no one has noticed her yet. Really.

Puffing, feet swinging, Nicola digs her left pick into another patch of ice and pulls herself another few inches up the east tower of Camelot's royal palace, towards the open window. She's thankful for the mottled surface of the palace- part ice, part stone- which gives her better grip.

Swearing softly, she tries to ignore the cluster of fat, snowy white birds gazing at her from the roof, interest in their gleaming eyes, and struggles the last few inches to the window. Carefully, she props her foot on the ridge of the guttering to her right, and lifts her eyes just above the windowsill.

The corridor is empty.

She listens.

Silent.

Lauding her good luck, Nicola scrabbles over the ledge and through the open window. She peeks back down the way she'd come, and finds the courtyard just as deserted as it had been when she'd arrived. Good.

Huffing, she leans against the wall and stares down the corridor, marvelling at the bizarre combination of the- presumably original- dark stone, split by veins of glimmering ice. Parts of statues are frozen too, and she can see gems on a chandelier that are far too smooth and sparkly to be diamonds.

Eyes narrowed, Nicola pads down the corridor, treading carefully to avoid making much noise. The palace is eerily silent and devoid of any servants or visitors, apart from the ones she'd seen in the courtyard, yoking horses and preparing a carriage. Hopefully, it means people will be appropriately busy. Unfortunately, it also means the target of her observations is probably leaving soon.

Casting a glance out of the window, she finds another few of those birds, oddly still, and more people in the courtyard. Damn it. She doesn't have long.

The plans the twins had given her are mercifully accurate, and it doesn't take her long to reach the centre of the palace. But where will he be?

Nicola decides to try the throne room first. There's always a chance he's receiving other people. Following a passageway marked to: TR viewing gallery she emerges in a shadowed balcony that runs all the way around the room. Frowning, she turns to look over the edge, sliding her foot over the frosty floorboards. She can't see anyone, which is irritating. But something makes her hesitate to leave. It feels as if she's being watched, almost…

Shaking her head, she pulls the map out of her pocket again, to see where she should go next, and as she does so, the token that had come with the plans falls with a clatter to the floor. Nicola stoops to pick it up, sighing, and peers at the royal crest of Foxwood engraved in the bronze. The floor feels colder than she'd thought. Maybe it was getting to her.

She doesn't have much love for either of Foxwood's twin Kings, but the money involved was enough to keep her family afloat for years, so…

"I better get my pay for this." she mutters-

The floorboards below her shatter.

Too shocked to even scream, Nicola plunges through the hole in the floor and crashes in a heap onto the flagstones below, the wind completely knocked out of her.

Wheezing, she rolls over, trying to work out if she's injured. No, she doesn't think she is. She'll have some terrific bruises, and her coccyx hurt like hell, but nothing's broken. Probably. She can move everything. Good.

Gasping shallowly, she scrabbles into a sitting position. How could the floorboards have broken? She'd barely moved, and they'd only been frosted over, it wasn't as if they were made of ice-

But they were. She was lying on shards of ice.

It wasn't as if they could have changed-

"Why have the Kings of Foxwood sent a spy into my palace?"

Nicola freezes, horrified.

There's someone stood behind a pillar on the opposite side of the throne room, barely visible in the shadows.

Oh yes, those floorboards could have changed.

Nicola's stomach clenches.

She'd anticipated guards or servants or a gardener. She'd prepared for guards or servants or gardeners.

But she'd barely spared a thought for the person she'd come to spy on.

She probably should have.

Before she can even form a reply, a pale hand slithers from the shadows and makes a lazy gesture towards her.

The shards of ice shoot up from around her and reform in the walkway above.

King Tedros doesn't move. Nicola doesn't move.

"I… don't quite know." she says slowly. "They didn't really tell me much."

"Then why are you here?"

His voice is low and leaning towards harsh, and his intonation is slightly odd, as if there's something wrong with his mouth.

"They promised me a big payout." says Nicola truthfully. "Enough to support my family for years."

"And what did they tell you to get?"

Nicola swallows thickly.

"Just information."

"About what?"

"You." Nicola says. "Your majesty." she hastens to add.

There's a pause.

"And what do Rhian and Japeth want to know about me?"

"Anything. But mostly…"

She stops.

"Mostly?" he presses from the shadows.

"They wanted to know if Queen Agatha is still being held here. How. Where. That sort of… that sort of thing."

"Held?"

Nicola bites her cheek.

"They believe the old tale, sire."

"I don't believe I'm familiar with this old tale." a sneering note has crept into his voice, now. "Perhaps you could fill me in."

Nicola stares.

"So she's not a captive-"

"Queen Agatha, my wife, is in her kingdom." snaps the King. "I'm leaving this afternoon, to go to her for several months, so my kingdom can have a summer. Now, seeing as you've broken into my palace on an errand for two meddling boy Kings… I'd like you, Nicola Pipp, to tell me what exactly it is that they believe."

Nicola knows it by heart, which is just as well, because she can tell his patience is fraying. But first-

"How do you know my-"

"Those birds have been following you ever since you entered the citadel and your landlady saw the castle plans in your belongings." says Tedros shortly. "I make and control them. Had you looked closer, you'd have noticed they were made of ice and snow."

He holds his hand out into the light again, and Nicola stares as snow floats from his open palm, forming the body of the tiny, round birds she'd seen earlier. Ice sheens across his palm, shudders, shatters, and flies up to form the eyes, beak, and spindly legs. The bird flies off into the rafters, where it disappears.

Nicola has a thousand questions, but she doesn't voice any of them. Instead, she says;

"The old tale."

"Ah, yes." Tedros is eerily still. "What does it say? I kidnapped my wife and forced her to marry me. What else? Do I fling my children from the highest tower when they displease me?"

"It- no. Er, actually, I didn't know you had children."

"Good, it means kings won't send spies to break into their palaces."

Nicola winces.

"Shall I just-"

"Be my guest." says Tedros. Nicola thinks he sounds savagely anticipatory, and suspects he's definitely heard at least some of this before.

"Well," she says. "This is the only version I've ever heard. Once upon a time…"

Once upon a time, in a kingdom on the edge of the woods, there lived a beautiful Queen, beloved by her people. In time, it was announced that the Queen was with child, and the people rejoiced at the news. Women rushed to vie for the position of royal nursemaid, well-wishers travelled from distant lands, and, soon, the Queen was delivered of a healthy baby girl. The people celebrated, but, privately, the Queen was afraid. The child looked nothing like her; her hair was raven black where the Queen and the Prince were blonde, and the girl's eyes were dark where her parent's were light. They did not know why; at least, until they heard the screams from the nursery, and burst in to find their daughter's cradle in flames. When they snatched her from the cradle, they were shocked to discover she was unharmed. And then they realised;

Fire magic. A curse on their daughter.

The Queen was terrified for her daughter's safety, fearing she'd be kidnapped and used as a weapon, or would hurt herself and others. She covered her daughter's face with a veil, so people would not notice how her veins glowed and how her colouring was all wrong. She claimed she was sickly, in order to keep her away from people whilst she learned to control her powers. She appointed a trustworthy nursemaid to oversee the princess, even though it broke her heart. She tracked down a reclusive old mage, and begged him to enchant gloves that would restrict her daughter's magic even a little.

Several months later, she heard rumours of a similar situation, on the other side of the woods. A prince, born with uncontrollable ice magic.

A week later, the King wrote to her, proposing a marriage alliance. Their children would not exploit one another, nor would they fear one another, and surely, uniting the two countries would be beneficial.

And, most importantly, they could balance one another.

The Queen, relieved she had secured a future for her daughter, agreed immediately.

Had she known what she'd been agreeing to, however, she never would have done so.

She had married her daughter to a monster.

At first, he was charming. Handsome. Noble. His kindly old father had died, and now he was King, and his people loved him dearly. Why shouldn't they? He was everything they should want in a King. The wedding went beautifully. Everything was well.

But then, he began to change. Slowly, he turned the princess against her own mother, lies whispering in the bitter northern winds. He convinced her that her mother hated her, was veiling her for her own selfish reasons. The princess, poor, insecure, thing, believed him.

When the Queen tried to stop him, he struck. A storm descended. Snow lashed, arctic winds roared, ice crawled everywhere-

and the Queen was cast from the highest tower as her beloved daughter watched.

There is no happy ending to this tale. The last thing the poor Queen heard, as she fell, was the cries of her daughter as the king dragged her away. The two kingdoms became reclusive. And that is how it has stayed, for centuries.

And will probably always stay.

The second she's done, Tedros laughs to himself. It's rough and harsh in his throat and makes Nicola shudder.

"Trust that old cow to make herself into the tragic hero from the grave."

Nicola stares. She hates that she can't see him properly. It's making her anxious.

"So you did hate the Queen?"

"Vanessa? Oh, yes. There's a bit of truth in every story, you know."

"And you… killed her?"

Tedros snorts.

"I didn't push her, if that's what you're asking. Sometimes wish I did, mind you."

"But-"

"I was… indirectly responsible for her death." says Tedros dismissively.

Nicola, who thinks that sounds an awful lot like he'd just got someone else to do the pushing, remains silent, thinking hard.

"So… everything else was a lie?"

Nicola gets the feeling he's staring at her, but it's impossible to tell.

"Like I said," Tedros says. "There's bits of truth in it."

Getting the impression he's deliberating something, Nicola looks up.

"Like what?"

"Why should I tell a Foxwood spy what's true and what's not? Everyone seems to have decided for me."

But Nicola's in her element, now. She knows that no one but her will have ever heard this version before, right from Tedros himself. Hell, it's likely that no one's ever got close enough to find out what she's already found out, if everyone still thinks Queen Agatha is a captive-

He could be lying, you cretin.

Nicola bites her nail. He could be. He could be trying to lure her into a false sense of security, then take her out with a bolt of ice to the brain, and-

"Well," she says slowly. "My loyalty to them is only really in the money, and my actual interest is in the information, not what it gets used for. Besides, I don't think you're going to tell me anything that would be useful to Rhian and Japeth, are you?"

"No." Tedros says coolly. "I'm not."

"Well, then, let's hear it." Nicola crosses her legs. "Your version."

She's aware she's probably sliding into irreverent, or disrespectful, but Tedros hardly seems to notice. There's a long pause.

"Let me guess." says Nicola. "No one's ever bothered to ask before, have they?"

A pause.

"No." says Tedros softly. "They haven't."

Slowly, he moves around the pillar, into the light from the high windows.

Nicola is so busy staring, that she almost misses it when he starts talking.