wear your crown
The first laurel crown is nothing too significant; Dusa simply allows her tendrils to weave together the errant bay branches which rest upon the kitchen counter, for the Head Chef has no need for them as of this moment. She only wants to tie them together, to put them away somewhere the gentle shade can access them later. Her movements are rapid, easy, and soon she holds a tiny wreath of laurel, fragrant and crisp.
She is about to undo it and put it away properly when the telltale burbling of little Prince Zagreus fills the air, and she is instantly delighted. The baby will grow quickly, as gods always do; they have naught but a few years before he will be an adult, sculpted in the same magic and power as his godly parents. For now, however, he is but a toddler, oddly human in his colouring and demeanor.
Lady Nyx always allows the tot to wander the halls, although Cerberus is never far behind; Dusa adores watching the giant hellhound, normally so vicious and menacing, shuffle lovingly behind the toddler constantly. Dusa is going to have to clean the lounge again if Cerberus decides to follow the crawling toddler into the lounge, however, so she scurries outside before the princeling can arrive, hovering low to the ground to coo, "Hello there, little Prince! And how are you today?"
Zagreus' eyes are unbelievably big as he stares up at her, a brilliant smile baring tiny baby teeth shining in the eerie lamplight. He giggles and burbles as he promptly takes a seat in front of her, clapping his hands as two of her serpentine tendrils immediately begin to wave and dance in order to keep him occupied.
Dusa's face splits into a smile that cannot even be tamped down by the fact that Cerberus glares at her from just a hairsbreadth away. She can feel the demonic beast's breath from all three heads boring down upon her singular head, but she does not mind, for as long as Prince Zagreus is smiling, she is safe.
Suddenly, she feels a tug. Glancing down, she sees the baby prince tugging onto the laurel wreath which she has accidentally brought with her outside the lounge. She chuckles, immediately hovering low, wincing with a smile as pudgy fingers grab one of her fangs and pulls lightly. Extricating herself from the surprisingly-powerful grasp, she coos, "Does the prince want his crown?"
Zagreus immediately claps his hands, amazed.
Her heart swells up. He is so sweet- how could this adorable toddler be the child of Lord Hades?!
Before she can allow herself to go down that train of thought further, she simply grabs the crown and places it upon his head. "Listen close, Prince," she whispers loudly as if professing a secret onstage, the action immediately capturing his attention. "Laurel crowns represent victory. May everything you do be a success, my prince."
Zagreus does not understand, and she knows this, but the radiance of his smile makes her feel warm anyways.
xxx
The fact that Nyx has decided that the laurel is a good look for her son brings Dusa such pride that she almost weeps when the goddess of night herself asks Dusa to make an official, ornamental laurel for the toddler's crown. "He shall strike down his foes tirelessly, and still shall retain his heart," Nyx says sagely. "Nothing shall stop him."
"Um-um-um th-thank you so much milady!" Dusa stutters in response. For the nth time since she began working in the castle, she is grateful for the fact that she does not have legs; being a floating head saves her all the embarrassment that likely would've come from her inevitable stumbling. At least hovering gives her an easy escape to the rafters whenever her green skin tinges far too pink to save any face.
"I look forward to seeing what you create," Nyx says gently before walking away.
Dusa's heart thuds painfully, but she does not mind, for her thoughts are already racing to possible designs and materials, to vendors and to craftshades she could visit. The thought of little Zagreus smiling up at her again as he puts on a proper crown made by her is stunning.
xxx
"Zagreus, please don't throw me!" she screams, her head flying through the air. The world spins around her, causing her to grow nauseous, weary.
It is Achilles who catches her; the shade of the renowned warrior always smells of flowers and life, despite the dreariness in which they find themselves constantly. "Little Zagreus," the hero murmurs, squatting down as he sets Dusa upright, "that's not very polite to do to Dusa, now is it?"
Dusa feels the prince's presence just at her back before she turns, but she is not prepared for the ashamed look the young boy wears. "Sorry, Dusa," he murmurs, clasping his hands clumsily behind his back. A few feet away, Cerberus' kindest head watches their exchange with a pout, for he knows the potential game of catch has been ended before it has even begun.
She shakes her head. What should she do? She cannot scold the prince- Lord Hades would be furious! She would lose her job! She doesn't want to hurt his feelings, though, but he already looks so ashamed-
Then, she notices the emerald laurel wreath upon his crown is askew. Sighing warmly, she approaches the young princeling, reaching out with her tendrils to right the slanted wreath. "Make sure you always look proper, Prince," she says wryly. "You're the Prince, y'know?"
The moment he realizes that she is not angry at him, his face bursts into a brilliant smile. "Okay, Dusa!" he beams.
She cannot find it in herself to get angry after such a loving look- something which she promptly regrets the next day, when Cerberus is once again chasing her down with the young princeling riding on one of the ferocious hellhound's necks. Still, she only feels tired and scared, but not angry. He would never hurt her.
xxx
His face has never been more flushed in front of Dusa, and so, Dusa cherishes it, her tendrils moving far slower than necessary as she finishes up the final stitches. It is so sweet. She does not want to ever forget this look.
However, the task cannot last forever, and eventually, she is done with stitching up the small blanket. "There ya go, Prince!" she says brightly, holding out the patched-up material. "Make sure Cerberus doesn't get his teeth in this again, okay?"
The baby blanket is one weakness which Dusa is more than content to help Zagreus hide from his oppressive father, for she remembers how sweet the tiny princeling had looked as a babe swaddled up in its orange-red material. For once, Zagreus seems to understand that the blanket is a secret, though; the young man beams as he gathers the material back into his arms, clutching it tight against his chest. "You are the best, Dusa," he whispers, burying his nose into it for one brief moment. "Keep it-"
"A secret from your father, I know," she whispers playfully.
Zagreus sighs, the young teen looking far more exhausted than she would like. "He's so cold, Dusa," Zagreus mutters wearily. "Am I doing something wrong?"
Her heart aches for the young prince, but she knows not the answer. It is not her place either; the whimsical beliefs and opinions of gods are far above her, after all.
She does not want Zagreus to leave with this glum look on his face, however, so she sighs, giving in. It was supposed to be for later, but… Zagreus looks at her apparent fatigue in concern, but his face immediately lights up as she pops out of the room, only to reappear with another square, flat box like he has seen over and over again. "Dusa, did you make another one?" he asks, practically bouncing upon his toes.
Dusa waves off his words, opening up the box. "You're growing up, Prince!" she explains, picking up the ornate stonework. Making a laurel crown herself that is both durable and lightweight is a challenge always, considering her talents lay with turning things to solid stone, but with the help of the shade contractors she has managed to create a piece that would suit the growing godling perfectly.
At least, she hopes that is the case. She does not have a need to worry, however, for when Zagreus sees the new wreath, he lowers his head instantly, his grin wide enough to light the entire House of Hades with its innocence. So, she goes through the same motions as she has so many times before: she picks up the wreath, remove his old one, smooths out his unruly hair, and places the new wreath upon his crown tenderly, fussing with his hair to ensure it remains straight upon his brow.
He looks wonderful with it on, she thinks as she flees up into the rafters now that her task is complete. One day, he shall turn into the kind of god people sing songs about.
A part of her wonders whether they shall sculpt his image to be wearing a laurel crown. She hopes so. She's poured her whole heart and soul into these little symbols of victory for the young princeling.
xxx
"Dusa is the one that made you that wreath?" She can hear the incredulity in Megaera's voice without even needing to turn the corner, the raspy alto resonating through her eardrums painfully.
"Yes," Zagreus murmurs, relaxed and careless as ever. "Why, is there an issue?"
Dusa's heart falls almost before Megaera responds, for she already knows what will be said. She has thought those same thoughts for years, after all. "I'm just surprised that you would wear an ornament from the help," the Fury admits after a thoughtful pause. "Not that I think it's a bad thing, Zag; Dusa's a sweetheart. Your father should be kinder to her."
"As if Father knows when to be kind to anyone, especially to those who deserve it," Zagreus laughs, voice filled with such ease that Dusa cannot help but lean against the wall, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
He thinks I deserve Lord Hades' praise?! she thinks, absolutely incredulous. But I'm just a servant!
Her face only heats up further under her scaly skin when she hears Megaera hum in agreement. "Dusa's a spark of life in here," she says dryly. "If it wasn't for her, you'd all be far worse off."
"Exactly," Zagreus replies instantly. "Either way, I think the laurel crown's pretty iconic. It's part of my image now, y'know."
"Ugh, you're such a narcissist, Zag."
"You love me anyways, Meg."
"Whatever."
The duo walk down the hall, leaving Dusa behind, but she no longer cares whether or not she is spotted; her heart is too enraptured, too filled with wonder, too focused upon the fact that the prince himself has defended her with such gusto- that he holds her in his heart just as much as she holds him in hers.
xxx
"Dusa, thank you," Zagreus murmurs.
Dusa's heart threatens to leap out of her mouth; she will never be accustomed to what comes next. Zagreus thinks nothing of it, however, happily bowing his head to her as he kneels, waiting for her blessing. So, she pulls out the intricate laurel she has spent the last week constructing with the help of the finest craftshades in all of the House of Hades. Her tendrils tenderly brush over embossed metal, the filigree so fine that she is scared of breaking it with her clumsiness; however, she manages to hold up the delicate metalwork level so that it rests above Zagreus' fine dark hair.
"You'll be victorious in all you do, Prince, I just know it," she murmurs. Her words hold no power- nothing but a simple wish.
And yet, as he stands, the shimmering reds and oranges and golds of this laurel coming to life in his hair, his quiet, self-assured smile is enough to tell her that those words, those heartfelt wishes, are more than enough. His gentle expression is far more mature than that of the young toddler she had coddled all those years ago, but she still recognizes the same grateful, warm love which resonates within those brilliant green and red eyes. Zagreus still thinks of her as the little maid who has been in and out of the House of Hades since he was a child, and he will always love her place in his life for that.
Her heart aches at the thought of him being successful in his attempts to escape the Underworld. However, if the laurel crown which he so proudly bears is one day able to see the sunlight of the mortal realm, Dusa will know that all of her toil will have been worth it.
-fin-