A/N: Ku-wee! (however you spell it) I'm back! I'm still alive. The senior thesis is out of the way, and I realized how much I hate, hate, hate writing academic stuff. So, since now I have an awful lot of free time, I will try and update sooner. I already missed this story an awful lot and my head is filled with ideas about the future chapters. Thanks to all the reviewers, followers etc that have supported this story so far :) And special thanks to my friends, Maggie (runawaysoultrain) and Jen for putting up with my endless whining and for reading the awful first drafts of Aphrodite's POVs (and if you like Titanic fanfics, go and check out Maggie's work).
Just letting you know that I edited this chapter with only three hours of sleep, so if you notice any grammar or other mistakes, feel free to let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome :)
Happy reading!
Royal Suite, Hotel GB
Morning
Of course I love animals! All of them! Even the two-legged ones in my own family!
Me chief among them!
Oh gosh, what have I done? Why does partying give you such a headache? What time is it? And where is my dress?
Oh. I forgot. I lost it.
I know, I know. It's impossible to lose something that you have on you at all times. But I have always been the exception to the rule.
Pretty sure His Majesty has just added one more thing to his list of reasons for which I will be the death of him. But if you ask me, for now, I hate everyone and everything.
Especially the 'usual suspects' for insisting I had one vodka after the other.
Well, that seems to explain everything... And my stupid bodyguards were nearby, didn't say a thing but instead let me make a spectacle of myself until it was a little too late...
This is not what you're getting paid for!
Ouch.
Great, even shouting in my head makes things worse. And I am used to drinking. I just can't remember if I counted how many glasses - or bottles - I had.
"Your juice, Miss!"
That's how my friendly maid calls it. It's the perfect cure for hangover with immediate results. It's burgundy, smells like rosemary and tastes like your aunt Mildred threw soap in the soup but served it anyway.
Remind me, after I am done with being drunk and have eaten some solid food, to start making the necessary phone calls.
First off, I need to replace my security detail. Pretty sure I made a nice sight, but their job does not state that they are allowed to sit back, drink, eat peanuts and watch me embarrassing myself. For heaven's sake, you are supposed to come to my rescue! Better yet, I trust those people with my life...
If my bodyguards don't get replaced, I will use the direct access I have to the Armed Forces. They're only a phone call away.
Second, the 'usual suspects'. I should not allow those people anywhere near me ever again.
Pretty sure those 'friends' cashed in plenty of money already by selling those pictures of me to the press. It wouldn't be the first time either.
Oh gosh, something tells me I had better not leave the suite today.
Royal Palace
It was not the first time that Zeus had been asked to come to the rescue of Aphrodite's reputation and credibility. Something told him it would not be the last either.
But his hands were tied. The law was different now and he could not change it without causing a riot from the public, who would call him 'political'. Once she was queen, she could destroy everything he and his ancestors had worked so hard to build for all she wanted. Yet, as long as she was his heiress, he and the Government had to do everything in their power to keep the Monarchy afloat.
The Prime Minster shared that view as well.
Luckily for Zeus, the ruling party was the conservative one. Royalists. Old money. Businessmen. They could understand.
It was not unusual for the King to have lunch with the PM. It was more of a private audience, including the Queen and a two-course meal. It was an occasion for them to discuss ideas, urgent matters, and ways to solve disputes. Behind closed doors. No one could suspect Zeus for being more politically involved than his role commanded unless they had the necessary proof and he could trust the members of the Administration - any Administration - to keep the secret. It was one of the many that was kept away from the world to see, for the sake of the country.
For the PM, having lunch with the King was among his duties. They never discussed personal matters - it was all about politics. Or about the reputation of the Royal Family. This time, it was both.
The latest proof of the Crown Princess' unruly behaviour could also put the future of his own Government in danger. He had been in power for only two years. Too early to accomplish anything.
Naturally, he could not reveal any of that to the King. The monarch was the Head of State; he was the Head of the Government. The King's role was strictly ceremonial, whereas the PM had actual authority.
Still, when he was in the King's presence, Zeus had the upper hand.
Even during an 'informal' lunch, not attended by the Queen because she had other responsibilities to attend to. She had to prepare the gala to announce her return. The Press Office had already informed the journalists on the upcoming event, which would take place in late December - just in time for her birthday as well. She had decided not to waste any more time in wondering whether Zeus was worth her forgiveness. Her job was to be the Queen of a country and she was determined to thrive in it. Convince the Greeks she was all right, and that everything was fine in her marriage. Make them proud that, at least they had a Queen who took her job seriously. It would silence her husband's doubters.
The truth had to be kept strictly under wraps. Even from the Government. Somehow, Aphrodite proved to be the perfect distraction, yet the same rules applied in her case.
The Prime Minister had made sure to inform the King on the matter as well:
"I understand that the pictures of the Heiress are particularly disturbing, Your Majesty, and today being a Saturday does not help matters either. It's the day most people buy their newspapers to read because today is when they have the most free time. Certainly seeing Her Royal Highness in... well... acting the way she did will spark some protest. This morning alone, I had to deal with many angry MPs demanding that the subject is discussed in an emergency parliamentary meeting."
"I see there is no way of avoiding the Opposition questioning her credibility," Zeus replied.
"With all due respect, Sir, she is to become the country's first Queen Regnant. Politics is a man's domain. Surely, not many colleagues are pleased with the prospect of having to be reigned by a woman. Regardless of reputation or personality. But as far as the Parliament is concerned, some MPs wish for Princess Athena to take over. And, according to the recent polls, many citizens share the same view."
Zeus remained silent, although he knew that Aphrodite's approval ratings remained unaffected by the fiasco. Right opposite him sat a man who supported the monarchy, yet had no idea how it worked. The kind of sacrifices it took to save it from destruction, especially in Greece. The country that invented Democracy. Where monarchs were both adored and detested. Whereas in other countries royal families were symbols of unity, there they were yet another cause for public dispute. For the Greeks, there is no such thing as 'the middle ground'.
"I know how many people would rather have Princess Athena as their queen, but she is political. She has an opinion about everything. She would interfere. The Greeks don't like someone for whom they haven't voted to take decisions on their behalf. They don't even approve of the Government they themselves have elected! The Crown Princess is not that much of a genius when it comes to politics. In fact, the worst she has caused was an early general election. You know the Greeks, they love to vote. They're political animals. Give them a reason to fight over politics and they'll love you forever, and the Crown Princess gives them just that. Besides, if we want to secure the future of the Monarchy, we need the young people by our side, and they adore Aphrodite. Somehow, her being more of a celebrity than a political figure is what draws them to her, makes her more likable in their eyes."
The PM realized that he had to do as the King wished. He did not like the prospect of Aphrodite as Queen Regnant either, but he had no other choice. The hardest part was to convince his ministers and three hundred MPs, most of whom were male career politicians, that the King had made up his mind.
After all, His Majesty also a father and, as that, had every right to make decisions on behalf of his family. It was just that this family also happened to have titles and live off of taxpayers' money. Any other private source of income came from investments, namely in shipping and commercial companies, would not become known; no one knew the true extent of the Greek Royal Family's wealth other than the King and his financiers. Although a detailed list of their income and expenses was published in the Government Gazette - the official journal of the Greek Government - at the end of every year, they only concerned the money they received from the Greek citizens. There were no legislations about the Government controlling the Royal Family's private wealth and no politician thought it was a subject worthy of thorough discussion in Parliament either.
"I trust that you will understand the severity of the situation," Zeus added. "I, too, will take the necessary measures to ensure that the Crown Princess does not make the same mistake again."
He put down his fork. The PM, disappointed that he had not finished his lunch, followed Zeus' lead and stood up. His Majesty walked up to him and gave him a firm handshake:
"Do remind the members of the Opposition that they passed the law for absolute primogeniture when they were in power. The Crown Princess has proved what she can do. She has used her fame to promote Greece. Surely that does not hurt."
Agreeing with the monarch, the PM bowed his head and knocked on the door. Two seconds later, it opened and he was out of the room. As two staffers walked in to clean the dining table, Zeus made his way to his office. All of those magazine covers his eldest daughter was featured on had certainly brought fame to her and gave Greece additional glamour. Yet being a monarch - a respected one - took more than that.
He knew why she acted the way she did. It was partly his fault. He had revealed his plans to get her married without her consent. He had somehow hoped that she'd have changed her mind by now. It had been a few months, after all. She had seen how the world worked.
Still, as he entered his office - the only place in the Palace where he felt secure - he could not help it:
Can't she understand that I have more important things to worry about than her?
Royal Suite, Hotel GB
An hour later...
I'm fine, I'm up, I won't kill anyone now.
The aunt-Mildred-soapy-soup brew worked its magic yet again. I could finally focus on getting at least one thing accomplished, even if that was just getting a look at my schedule for the day after tomorrow.
Yes, all of my engagements for today and tomorrow are canceled due to 'fatigue'. That's the lie that Zeus Almighty's Private Secretaries (all three of them) came up with to give me two days to think about 'the consequences of my actions'.
Darlings, I have. It's why I won't leave the hotel. The vultures will be all over me if I dare show my face in public after last night's shenanigans. But, thank God we do live in a country where something always happens. Fingers crossed that a Minister or an MP will mess up with a new legislation, or a business scandal comes up, and all of these journalists find something else to whine about.
My own Private Secretary is here and is sitting in the living room, watching the Greek and international news. Good thing is, I have not been featured on CNN. Yet. Bad news is, the Greek journalists - who used to praise me only yesterday - now say I am incapable of taking over the throne just because I danced on a table... Like, excuse me, Sir, you with the grey hair and the awful tie... Do you have any idea how many women dance on tables every night? This is Greece, for heaven's sake, people come from all over the world to, among others, dance on tables in those night clubs, while the singers are singing on stage and people just keep throwing carnations all over the place.
It's tradition. It's Athenian lifestyle. We live in the actual City That Never Sleeps. Honestly, we put New York to shame.
You can't blame me for enjoying myself, after all I have done for Greece - which is far more than you have done anyway.
So hell yeah. I did go out; and drink; and dance on a table.
The 'I lost my dress' part came later. Honestly, I have no idea where it is.
Lesson learned: never, ever, wear custom-made couture when you go out with some 'friends' of yours that don't really have the best reputation out there. But you can leave it on the floor if you want. As long as you know it's going to be there the next morning.
By the way, if that dress is sold to the black market tomorrow for twice the price it is actually worth, I wouldn't be surprised.
Who wouldn't want to own a dress once worn by the Crown Princess of Greece?
It does not follow the royal standards. It's a couple of inches shorter than the royal protocol declares. Or, maybe, say, more than that. Practically a long blouse. But I don't even have a reputation for sticking with the protocol. Unless I really have to act like the Crown Princess. Or when I'm around people. Honestly, some of them are annoying.
Here's another piece of advice. Never trust people who don't know how to eat with more than one set of cutlery. Or who don't know that, when you meet a royal, you bow (for men) or curtsy (for women). Or who don't know how to do it properly. The worst is all those people who finish eating or who stand up without you having given them permission to do so.
When the King or the PM is present, you should follow their lead. If the King and the PM are present, then the PM is one with the crowd and finishes eating as soon as the King sets down his fork. When only the PM is present, the King is not, and I am attending the event as 'the daughter of the King' (say, in unofficial galas), I follow the PM's lead. However, when I act as the Vicereine - as I do when the King and the Queen are abroad on state visits or on sick leave and things like that - the PM has to follow my lead since I am acting as the de facto head of state at that moment.
It sounds confusing, I know, but you get the hang of it eventually. Personally, I was trained on this my whole life and still couldn't tell the difference between King and PM as official roles until I was fourteen. I'm not the smartest cookie out there, in case you haven't noticed.
Why am I telling you all this? To keep my mind from thinking of what is going on on the room right outside my bedchamber. I have been stuck in here since I woke up, following my Secretary's advice. And my friendly maid's. I should keep away from any television, radio or newspaper there is. So that I wouldn't get upset. That's sweet of them, but I have survived Zeus Almighty as my father for the whole twenty-six years of my life. Honestly, last thing I give a damn about is what people who don't even know me in person - or at least well enough to have a decent opinion - say about me.
Good thing that Blanche is there with me, all over my bed, staring at me with those big, black eyes of hers and waving her tail slowly. She is full of energy, but she still can sense that something was wrong with me today.
"You want to play, don't you?"
She lifts her head up, the wave waging higher, and brings her two front feet one of top of the other. Then she yawns. And waits.
"Come here! Good girl!"
With one jump, she is out of the bed and right in front of me. There's something about those Samoyed dogs, they might look like mini polar bears but in fact, they're big, fluffy, friendly snow balls. And they love being hugged.
Basically, Blanche is the best friend I've ever had. I can whine all I want and she listens without complaining. Chase her around with her favourite blanket too and she'll love you forever.
So this big, fluffy white lion made herself comfortable on my lap when Lydia walks into the room. That's the Private Secretary for those who wonder. And holding a black leather folder. This wasn't good.
"I apologize for not knocking first, Miss, but this is just arrived. It's the new schedule for you. His Majesty requested that you adhere to his wishes with as little fuss as possible."
"I would have been more surprised if he had not said that."
I scan the paper. Yup. As I expected. My 'punishment' for losing stuff from my wardrobe is twice as many engagements as I am supposed to have on a weekly basis. As stated by the Constitution. Yes, they actually tell us how busy we are allowed to be so that people won't accuse us for intruding in politics...
Just make me Queen already!
"You know, the first time my agenda had been that filled, I was sixteen years old," I say, either to Lydia or to Blanche - whoever wants to hear. "I almost eloped with the step-son of a Spanish aristocrat whom I had met on a visit to Madrid. Also a minor. When the King found out, he threatened to have the poor boy killed if he ever came within walking distance to me again. Then he sent me to a boarding school in Switzerland for six months. After I returned to Greece, he had my timetable altered and I had so many engagements to attend to that I did not have time to think about anything but what shoes to wear.'
The last bit was another distraction, actually. All of our outfits are set, complete with accessories, up to two weeks before every public appearance. But I still needed something to get my mind off of things.
Shoes be it.
Dining Room, Royal Palace
The same afternoon...
"I can either be King of the Hellenes, or I can control Aphrodite. I couldn't possibly do both."
"Pardon?"
Zeus turned to face his wife. Hera was sitting nearby, enjoying a cup of green tea. Just a little something to help her relax.
"It's what Theodore Roosevelt would say about his daughter. 'I can either be the President of the United States, or I can control Alice. I couldn't possibly do both'. I find that it applies in our case too."
"You did not handle it well, darling. You knew how she would react."
"I did not expect her to come home in such an unruly state."
They were in the anteroom of the library, a small sitting room where they could have a cup of coffee, relax, and discuss confidential family matters. Hera still didn't wish to spend time with Zeus. However, she had to make everyone believe that everything was fine between them. After all, the staffers and the courtiers were the worst kind of people. Last thing she wanted was those kind of 'insiders' selling information about their private lives to the press. She was not as naive as her eldest step-daughter. If she had been, her husband would not have been king for twenty-three years.
"You need to get those people away from her. What did she call them? The 'usual suspects', wasn't it?"
"I have already summoned the NIS. Soon, we will find out their names, addresses, parents' occupation..."
"The National Intelligence Service? Dear, don't you think that is taking it too far?"
"I want those people as far away from my daughter as possible. They sold pictures of her to the press. I want to avoid the worst they could do. She is the future head of this country. She needs to learn to behave."
"I doubt getting her married will fix it."
"She left me no choice."
As he walked over to the sofa next to the armchair Hera was sitting on, his wife handed him a cup of coffee. Black. No sugar. He never had any sweetenings with his coffee.
"Marrying her off to Quasimodo is not the best solution either," Hera said as she herself took a sip of her tea.
"Don't call him that!"
Hera did not reply. Neither she nor her husband were calm enough to have that kind of conversation. But Zeus did not like to leave his business unfinished.
"I am aware of his parentage. And his deformities. His medical history... Everything has been taken into consideration."
"Think of the Greeks! I doubt they would like to see Aphrodite married to someone whose great-grandparents were siblings and second cousins..."
"Those were different times."
"But it is nowadays that we see the results."
Zeus listened to Hera numbering all of Hephaestus' faults, starting from his trouble walking. He had to use a stick, even though he was young. He wore gloves to hide a deformity in his hands - the remnant of an old accident in his father's factory - and, most likely, he could not have children.
"Or if he does, they might inherit the troubled gene. He is, after all, the product of incest," Hera added.
"His grandfather was fine. Same for his mother. They are healthy."
"But he is not."
Zeus was getting impatient: "Enough already, woman!"
Hera set her cup on the table. The handle was facing her husband, a way of telling him to mind his words. She left once, she could do it again.
"What I am worried about, dearest," she furthered, "is Aphrodite's reaction when she sees him. You know what she can do when she is displeased."
"Which is why I asked the NIS to take the necessary measures."
Hera didn't respond. Zeus kept talking about his plans for the engagement announcement, how it should be fabricated so that it does not appear rushed, make people not question the motives behind the match... Perhaps Hera could arrange all of it?
"You do not understand," she finally said. "People will talk. They do like gossip. Yes, you want the money and Hephaestus' father wants the status. But when it comes to me giving my permission to this marriage, I will have to say no. I do apologize. But the prospect of the two together disgusts me."
"Well, that's bad," Zeus replied.
The way he uttered these words made Hera realize that Zeus had made up his mind. Yet, she was shocked by what he revealed next:
"He had asked for a private audience two weeks ago. Informally asked me for her hand in marriage. I gave him my blessing."
And it was her duty, as his wife and Queen, to consent to every single one of His Majesty's wishes.
Royal Suite, Hotel GB
I suppose it's time to tell you the reason Hera made me go on this big tour. I don't know how she found out, since I made sure that all parties involved don't reveal the secret, but here comes the apocalypse: the King wanted me to do something I would never consent to, like set me up with a foreign prince who was way down the line of succession in his home country or the son of one of Hera's second cousins because they are the ones with money. After I told him I disagreed with the prospect, he cut off my allowance for three months by keeping my appanage for himself. In revenge, I slept with two of his bodyguards. The first one on a Monday, the second one on a Wednesday. Even I need a day's rest occasionally.
Long story short, somehow, Hera found out and kept staring at me as if I was Al Capone and she was the whole of the FBI personified. Honestly, if she looks at all of Zeus' one-night-stands and mistresses in the same way, no wonder the poor women disappear without a trace.
Anyway, she came up with the idea that I should go on this big tour and take Zeus' Greek friends and supporters - shipowners, financiers, Wall Street magnates, Secret Service agents etc - by my side. (No, I did not sleep with them, although, by the way they looked at me, they wished I would). By making them see me, see the interest I had in the Greek diaspora making it big abroad and not paying taxes to their own home country, I could make them side with me. In return, they could convince Zeus that I was ready to take over from him. It's an odd plan, because Hera loves being Queen more than anyone - and frankly, can don a tiara like no one else - but I went ahead with it.
Then, somehow, I happened on Ares, who was on a break from his military career and, well, we hit it off.
I don't worry about the bodyguards speaking up. They're fired and most probably live in Timbuktu now (thanks, Hera's glare). But I am really, really worried about Zeus finding out about me and Ares... Yes, I know, we're related by law. I don't even know why I did it because it crossed a moral line for me and those are dangerous when trespassed. But I couldn't resist. Call it exhaustion from the tour, thirst for adventure, the music, the dancing, the drinking, him in a suit, us both going incognito...
I crossed that invisible moral line. And enjoyed every second of it.
To my unborn grandchildren: no, I won't become an ordinary grandmother who knits sweaters and socks all day. You outgrow them with the speed of light. And yes, I have lived my life. How about you?