Part 3: Something Borrowed

Scott opened his eyes with a start. For a second, his mind was blank about where he was and what was so important about…"The big day…" He muttered aloud. As he'd woken he had imagined, as one does, that he was safe in his own bed, but he was thrust into recalling the events leading up to him waking up in this particular room. He groaned and sat up, rubbing a hand across his face. He needed a shave.

"Morning, Master." The curtains around his bed were thrust aside and he looked up into the face of a podgy, smiling maid.

"Morning. Great. What?"

"I have brought you your breakfast and the Empress said that you were to eat all of it. She wants you at full strength for after the ceremony."

Scott caught a faint gleam in her eye and took the tray off her silently. He took a gulp from the glass of water first and sloshed it around his mouth, which had started to taste like the floor of Thunderbird One's cabin. Not that he'd know. Then he lifted the lid on his breakfast. Fish again. And something else. He picked it up, surprised. It was an International Rescue watch, and he looked to the maid for an explanation,

"I'm guessing that this isn't from my bride-to-be." He said.

"I don't know how that got there, Master, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I don't know how he did it, but I'm sure glad he did." Scott grinned and put the watch on. It was a comfort to feel the watch on his wrist again and know that his family were only a sentence away. He wished Virgil understood what he was doing. Scott poked at the meal on his plate, and felt her eyes on him. He blinked,

"Do you have to stand there?"

"I've got to tell you that your clothes will be brought in soon and then you will be instructed on the ceremony before it happens."

"Ah huh. I'm sure glad that Barronnell's back in business. Is he coming here?"

"I would think so, master."

"You don't have t'call me that."

"The Empress insists on it."

"Huh." Scott decided not to push the issue. Not until it annoyed him. "How long until the ceremony?"

"Five marine hours, Master."

"How about Sir?" He suggested brightly. She flushed,

"I…All right." She smiled back hopefully. Scott mentally rolled his eyes.

"I'll have finished in a minute. Can you come back then?"

"Er, y, yes, Sir."

"FAB." He smiled. The maid hurried from the room. Scott leaned back, trying to enjoy his breakfast. If the Prince was right, it would be a while before he had the chance to eat much again. Having little appetite didn't help. He shovelled the food mechanically. He wondered what the others were doing.

Virgil and Gordon left their quarters dressed in the flowing outfits that Barronnell had made for them. Gordon grinned,

"You look great, Virg! Red's your colour."

"I wonder what these're made of. Don't know how they make clothes down here." Virgil glared at the sandals, "But if only Dad could see us now!"

"It's this or frogman outfits. Scott wouldn't want us in his wedding photos then!"

"Guess not. Hey, where are…"

"Ready, fellas?" Troy Tempest and Phones came out of their room and the four men looked at each other, and then burst out laughing. Virgil wiped a tear from his eye.

"I thought we looked stupid!"

"Well, Scott's having the last laugh, that's for sure." Tempest chuckled, "Nice, er, threads, Tracy."

"You sure that's your size? Maybe we should swap." Virgil replied. He glanced around, "Where's Helena and Marina got to?"

"You know women. Always taking ages over their…" Troy's voice trailed and Virgil turned. He blinked.

"Well, good morning to you too." Helena said. She walked over to them. Her long blonde hair had been decorated with long strands of coloured threads, a blue sea-orchid in her hair. She wore an elegant dress that shimmered across the long curves of her body. "Hope I don't spill anything on this…" she muttered.

"Y, you look great." Virgil said. She smiled at him.

"Poor you. What have you got on?"

"I had nothing to do with it." Virgil gave a shrug, "But please, no photographs."

Scott put aside his tray and finished off the water and the strange dessert, which tasted like yoghurt but had a left a weird grittiness in his throat. He swung around and his feet touched the warm sponge surface of the floor. He guessed the temperature hardly ever changed this far underwater, and the reminder of how deep he was brought back a pang of desire to see sunlight again. The doors opened.

"Barronnell! Good to see you! Did you get them fitted up for their clothes?"

"Er, y, yes, Scott." Barronnell snapped his fingers and three of his juniors came in bearing several sets of cloth. "And I've been working on your wedding clothes all night. But I can't decide if you will look better in blue or red, so…"

"I think blue's my colour." Scott murmured. He tilted his head to regard the little man, "You okay, friend? Sorry about before…"

"I am happy to serve the Empress again. And you're her husband – or you will be. I have no grudge…" Barronnell peered up at Scott, "It, er, won't happen again, will it?"

"Barronnell…" Scott grinned and put an arm over then little man's shoulder, "I'll bet my life on it!"

"The groom is nearly ready, I hope?" said an acerbic voice from in front.

"Hi, Hermes. Don't you ever knock…?" Scott lifted up a cloak he was supposed to be wearing and looked over it, "I guess you must be disappointed I'm still around."

"You have an uncanny knack of surviving, Scott, which I trust you will pass on to the Empress." Hermes replied coolly. "I am only tolerating you because of the Prince. Do not expect anything to be done purely for your good, when the Kingdom's future is at stake." Hermes looked the pilot over, "Are you sure about wearing blue? Shiana will be wearing silver. You'll look like a pair of tuna."

"I'm sticking with blue. Or we'll look like two trout." Scott grunted. "Or is that trouts...?"

"I see you've received a wedding gift. From your brother?" Hermes gestured at the large watch on Scott's wrist.

"Yeah. Are they all okay?"

"I wouldn't know as I don't care, Scott. But your bride is taking care of them as you requested. She is also very excited, as you can expect, so I hope you can keep it up long enough to go though with it." Hermes frowned, "What's so funny?"

"Absolutely nothing. You guys don't drop the ball I won't." Scott wrapped the light blue cloak over his shoulders and Barronnell hopped up on a stool and started making adjustments. He decided to leave out the truth about the watch. It never hurt to have a back-up plan. "How long now?"

"Three marine hours, Scott. Then…" Hermes spread his hands; "It will be up to you, once I have played my part. It must be an absolute secret."

Scott met his gaze evenly.

"Like I said." The pilot replied. Hermes nodded with the minimum of courtesy and strutted out. Scott, his mouth suddenly dry, reached for a glass of water that had been left for him. With another look at the closing door, he put the glass back down. He took a deep breath. With just three hours to go, things were getting serious.

"This is serious. What if you need to call base?" Gordon hissed. Virgil shook his head,

"Look, little brother, Scott's going to be down here for a long time. I thought that giving him my watch would show that we weren't going to just forget about him. If we get in any trouble we can use yours'."

"I know, but what if we're separated?"

"Then we'll just have to figure something out." Virgil muttered.

"But we could…"

"Sssh. Here come the others."

Helena sat down next to Virgil and Marina next to Troy, as they got ready for breakfast. Gordon and Phones exchanged glances. Troy was griping,

"And you think they could give us breakfast in bed! Not that spilling anything on these jeepsy clothes could make them any worse…"

"If Atlanta were here she'd tell you to stop moaning and be grateful they're even feeding us, Skipper." Phones said. Troy glared,

"Well she's not! You'd think we had nothing to do with the Empress' husband or something."

"You don't." Helena said, "And Phones is right. We're damn lucky that the Empress is looking after us at all. It's only through their brother's intervention that we got to stay here."

"Yeah, Troy, try to think of it as a holiday." Phones suggested, smiling nervously.

"And a great holiday this is turning out to be…" Troy muttered.

"Y'know, my little brother's heard of you." Virgil poked at the green salad on his plate as the two servants brought them the rest of their breakfast. "And he was right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Troy spluttered.

"Can you gentlemen at least pretend to get along? Just for today? It's supposed to be a day for celebration. A royal wedding." Helena interjected smoothly, nudging Virgil's foot under the table. Marina nodded and met Tempest's eye, her face even more serious than usual. The WASP captain got up from the table,

"And another thing! Everything tastes the same down here!" He flung down his napkin and stormed out. Virgil cleared his throat,

"I'd better go after him and apologise."

"You'll do no such thing!" Helena exclaimed.

"She's right, Virgil." Gordon said.

"Yeah, Troy just needs a moment to cool off. He'll be okay in a little while." Phones told them, looking embarrassed. "He and Atlanta had a bit of a row before we left. Guess that explains why he's been acting so funny."

"Gordon told me about you two. The best guys the WASPs have to offer, right?" Virgil said, anxious to steer the conversation to another subject.

"That's what they tell us. I'm no aquanaut of the year, though." Phones' soft Southern drawl didn't sound resentful at all.

"That's not what you were saying at the Squid and Duck Pub before we came here!" Gordon laughed. "The tales you were telling me make me wish I'd chosen to do exploring instead of joining International Rescue!"

Virgil was suddenly curious to know exactly what Gordon knew about WASP. All he really knew about was Gordon's little one-year stint underwater, researching deep-sea farming methods. But surely Gordon had been doing more interesting things before that? Phones sure seemed to know him well enough.

"Well, if Troy's not going to eat his, I'll have it." Helena said, helping herself to the Captain's plate. "Being this deep underwater always makes me so hungry."

For her sake Virgil hoped that she got promoted soon. He lifted a forkful of food and peered at it, pursing his lips.

"Do you want some of this red stuff, too?"

Three hours later, and it was nearly time for the big event. The guests gathered expectantly in the massive throne room, the noise being carried and strangely muted by the clear membrane that created what Virgil guessed must be the largest human goldfish bowl in existence. It was even more beautiful than he remembered it. Seeing everyone else dressed in equally ridiculous outfits made him feel better, and his eyes were peeled for a glimpse of Scott, who, Helena had assured him, would be the first of the couple to arrive before the ceremony really began.

"Oh, this is fun." Troy was still griping behind him. Virgil ignored him and grinned nervously at Gordon. His brother returned the look, and gestured with his head at the clear area behind the throne, which was slowly filling with hundreds of tiny coloured fish, giving it the appearance of a living mosaic. Virgil smiled and glanced down at Helena, who suddenly had a frown on her face.

"What's up?" he asked, "Not food poisoning, I hope?"

"No, Virgil. Both of you look at the exits. You notice anything odd about this and our friends?" She nodded Virgil and Gordon's attention to the few guards posted around the many doors in the massive throne room. "That doesn't seem like a lot for a ceremony this important." Helena explained. Gordon shrugged. Virgil murmured,

"You know, honey, you've got a point."

"Honey?"

"Having fun, Marina?" he heard Phones ask. The pilot turned, and saw she was crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Virgil inquired, alarmed. She gestured through the tears in her beautiful eyes. Troy laughed, although it clearly wasn't meant in a cruel way.

"Oh, Marina says she always cries at weddings." At this, Marina gave a little smile. Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

"I never understood that." He murmured, "I always figured, you know, that the groom should be the one crying." Helena dug him in the ribs and he grinned at her. They were all feeling the tension in the room starting to mount, as it filled with what had to be the last several guests and lowliest Council members. They were all sitting in thin rows of threes in seats that were made from a material lighter but harder than the sponge chairs. It was smooth and slightly porous. Virgil was gradually finding that the longer you sat in them the less comfortable you got. He kicked the seat in front in an attempt to stretch. A green-faced man with silver lips turned at him and hissed at him in a Peter Lorre voice,

"Stop doing that!" his large eyes narrowed, "Terran!"

"Sorry. Sorry." Virgil put up his hands. The stranger scowled and turned back. Helena giggled, and suddenly he found himself pushing back an incredible urge to burst out laughing. The two of them sat in their seats desperately trying not to explode into giggles, even as the room began to grow quieter, and Virgil couldn't even look her in the eye. He coughed desperately. Gordon poked him in the back.

"Get a grip!" he sniggered. Now all three of them were trying not to laugh. Helena chewed on the top of her programme. Virgil closed his eyes, a smile still glued to his face. He guessed it must be hysterics. Helena's flawless form shook with almost silent mirth beside him. He doubled as another spasm of laughter threatened to burst from him. Oh, no…

Music soared through the warm air and a cool wave of calm washed over him. Virgil blinked. The music was the purest he'd ever heard. He realised that it was coming from three young girls wearing silver, who were standing at the very front. Their voices rose and fell like birds, but they added dolphin and whale sounds to it. It was like nothing he had ever heard before, and when he wondered why he felt so faint he remembered suddenly that he had forgotten to breathe. Helena put a hand on his arm, gripping his bicep tightly, and they exchanged glances that illustrated exactly how moved the other was by the beauty of the music. There was a tear in her eye, and her lovely face was flushed. Virgil took her hand and she returned his grip firmly.

Gordon fidgeted as Troy Tempest accidentally kicked the back of his chair. Again. The young aquanaut glanced at his brother, who was looking as if someone had hit him over the head with an anvil and exchanging goo-goo eyes with the Ambassador. Gordon tried to peer over the heads of the three rows that were between him and the front of the room, where the throne was. Old men and women; priests, he guessed, had started gathering up there. There seemed a lot of them for just one marriage, even if it was a royal one. Perhaps they weren't taking any chances…

The singing seemed to go on and on. Bored, Gordon wondered exactly how Scott was feeling at this moment. Personally, he'd never want to be the one at the centre of this circus. Life-or-death was simple enough to cope with, but he wondered how his brother's nerves were standing up under this unique brand of pressure. Gordon wanted to ask how long this went on but didn't like to get between Virgil and the Ambassador to ask. His head snapped round as fanfare punctuated the ending of the choir's sonorous wailing. He waited for something to happen. Abruptly, everyone stood up and looked behind them.

Virgil peered round like all the others, his hazel eyes fixed firmly on the back of the hall. Then there was a wave of applause as Scott, his face scarlet, made his way down the middle of the congregation followed by an entourage of at least thirty guards. Virgil whispered to Helena,

"They all just for decoration?"

"Does seem a bit extreme, doesn't it…" she replied, giving his hand a squeeze. He smiled despite himself and tried to catch Scott's eye. His big brother remained staring straight ahead as he walked, as if that were the only grip on sanity he had left. Helena tutted in sympathy, "And how many rescues have you been on?" She breathed. Virgil whispered in her ear,

"In all of 'em, I never saw him with an expression like that." He looked at Gordon who was obviously thinking the same thing. Troy and Phones nodded with respect and made 'good luck' faces to Virgil. A strange feeling welled in the pit of his stomach, and he held Helena's hand aware that the palms of his own had suddenly gone clammy.

Scott completed the walk to the end of the throne room, and stood just in front of the throne before the six or seven priests who had gathered there. His blue eyes searched once around the room, and he must have just seen Virgil because he gave a shaky smile and put a hand over the watch that was out of place with his outfit, but that he had evidently been allowed to keep anyway. The palace guards fell into the seats on either side of the room next to the aisle. Virgil swallowed. One stayed beside Scott, unarmed but in full dress uniform.

What followed for about ten minutes was the priests droning on about some rights and privileges that Scott was entitled to, and something about the joining of souls before the God of the Sea and the temptation of self- destruction. Scott started to fidget, his long silvery-blue cloak rippling out behind him as he changed his feet and tried to concentrate. Scott resisted the temptation to look back for Virgil and Gordon again. He held onto the watch and glanced up at the high ceiling. He thought that every culture must have parallels like this, even undersea ones, dreaming of heaven above them if only they could reach it. Scott clenched a fist and tried to stay focussed. Surely it didn't take this long for Jupiter to revolve around the sun! His mind wandered.

"…And do you give yourself to the Empress willingly and forever, sharing your souls within our Kingdom for the greatest good of the people, and the…"

"Yes." Scott said, clearly, but a little too soon. The old priest looked affronted, but caught Scott's eye and coughed before he said,

"And now, the Empress will accept your pledge." Scott nodded. He heard a soft whisper as the owners of a hundred silk clothes all turned to see the Empress' grand entrance. He was not allowed to turn himself; he had to wait until she arrived, Hermes had told him strictly during rehearsal, or it meant terrible luck for the wedding, he'd added with a sly grin. So, Scott waited, patiently. Even less long, now…

Virgil stared like the rest of them, amazed at how the bratty little girl had transformed into such an amazing creature. The Empress was carried in on a huge oyster shell, supported by at least thirty servants who were all dressed in white and silver. The Empress herself wore a shimmering dress, which gave her the appearance of a true mermaid, and also set off the gleaming jewels and sea flowers in her hair. Her Atlantic eyes gleamed. She appeared to radiate the light in the room, and even to be the source of it. Virgil found himself squinting as she passed by. There were sighs of appreciation as she was set down before them on the dais. Scott was evidently meant to stay below her, and as he looked up Virgil could just hear his startled exclamation before the trumpets (or conch shells, he figured) rang out across the room again.

"This is it, Virgil." Helena whispered to him, "Your big brother's got no way of backing out now." She was barely a hair shorter than him, and Virgil hardly had to lean over to whisper back,

"Is this really happening?" Helena smiled, nudging his shoulder. Then the fanfare ended, and they all sat down, and she leaned into him. Her hair brushed his arm, sending prickles of cool air across his skin. The final lap was about to commence. Virgil suddenly felt his own eyes go damp, although having Helena so close seemed to make that all right. He didn't trust himself to look anywhere except in front where Scott was standing, with the Empress above, surrounded by the waiting priests.

The Empress rose from her shell and walked halfway down the steps. Scott walked up to meet her as faint singing started, his posture rigid with every step. He took her hand and she kissed him, then they turned to face the priests together. Another round of promises were exchanged before the time came to exchange what had to be the final vow. It just had to be the last one, Virgil heard Gordon mutter. Virgil agreed; the suspense was simply killing them all.

"Do you, Scott Tracy, agree to take everything the Empress wishes as your own will, and that you will not question or interfere with anything she may desire or wish to take from you?" the oldest priest of them all droned. Helena winced as Virgil's fist nearly crushed her hand.

"I do." Scott could be heard clearly, despite the odd quietness of his normally curt voice. There was an audible release of breath as the guests all leaned forwards as one. The Empress relaxed visibly, but if Virgil wasn't mistaken Scott appeared even more tense than before. Then there was a distinct shuffling in the vast hall. The priest turned his attention to Shiana. Most of the room held its breath.

"Do you, Empress Shiana, Honoured and Loved Protector of the Kingdom of Aeden, take Scott Tracy's word that he will stay with you, and honour your very wish, and that he will not question or interfere with anything you may desire or wish to take from him? Are you satisfied that your souls will be joined in eternity?"

Whether she ever gave an answer or not was soon to become a moot question, but her answer was drowned anyway as the screaming rebounded through the hall. Whooping and yelling deafened all the guests in the arena. Within seconds the room became a battlefield, and Virgil grabbed Helena and went to drag her to the ground with him. Guests started to run, screaming. Virgil realised that Gordon had vanished. He leapt up, hearing a familiar yell.

Virgil spun as the sharp end of a blade came straight for his chest.