Note from the Author: Hey guys! Good news! I've built up somewhat of a buffer. That means I can guarantee an update next week too. Woot!
Also, I forgot to give credit where credit is due. Nausicaa's character quirk I can attribute to Not-a-fanatic-just-a-fan, who suggested I make someone who talks in milennialisms (totes adorbs, cray cray, etc). Good show, Not-a-fanatic, good show.
I am pretty sure I am done introducing OCs after this chapter. I think. Finally. Maybe. - wait! J/K, there's like one more very important one. but other than that. I'm done introducing OCs. For now. Probably.
Ch. 12 – Ready to Party
"He doesn't want Fop, good sir. He wants Dapper Dan!" the King insisted, slamming his hand on the stall counter. "He's a Dapper Dan Man!"
"I can order it for you," the stall keeper drawled, "Have it in in about two weeks."
"Forget it!" Cygnus fumed, turning back to Zoro.
"Uh…I don't use hair gel," Zoro tried to put in helpfully, dressed now in new clothes from the next stall over. They stood in one of Ilium's festively bedecked street markets, closer to the palace than Athena's Temple had been. This was their last stop; they didn't have time for anything else, what with the lengthening shadows announcing the approach of sundown.
"It's pomade, not hair gel you cretin! And maybe that's why you always look so scruffy."
Zoro didn't let the jab get to him, feeling a bit surreal as he realized that the whole scenario was the closest his Father-in-Law had ever come to showing him affection. Zoro knew Cygnus was going out of his way to make him look nice for Helena's sake, but it was kind of nice all the same. They'd even stopped by a bathhouse, though they weren't able to relax there for more than a quarter of an hour if that.
"What are you wearing?" Cygnus said with a start, looking him up and down with an expression of disbelief.
"You said to pick something I like…" Zoro said, looking down at the comfortable black jeans, boots and plain black T-shirt.
"That's not a costume," Cygnus insisted.
"Uh, how about this?" Zoro asked, grabbing a blank white mask and slapping it over his face. "Look! I'm Hades!"
Cygnus actually chuckled at this. He had a wry sort of laugh like his daughter's, and Zoro smiled despite himself.
"You know Hades' mask covers all of his face."
"Uh, yeah. I've met the guy," Zoro reminded him, lowering the mask. "But if I wear a full mask I won't be able to use all of my swords. Anyway, he wears a toga thing and a cloak too. Think of it as a, uh…I dunno, a modern interpretation?"
"Well, it's bad luck to dress as Hades," Cygnus said, then he grinned that sly, knowing grin he got when he knew something he didn't intend to share. "But after all, it is a modern interpretation. Yes, I do believe it's perfect. We should get you a cloak or something though, to complete the look."
"How about this?" Perona piped up from beside them, holding out a black, hooded jacket.
Cygnus and Zoro both gave a start. They'd vaguely noticed the frilly pink person next to them, but had been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't realized who it actually was.
"Oh, it's you," Zoro observed. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting ready for the party, same as you," Perona replied.
"And, uh, what are you supposed to be?" Zoro asked.
Perona waved a shepherds crook in front of his nose and pointed at the small retinue of ghosts that always followed her around. They'd grown puffy little coats. "Isn't it obvious? I'm Little Bo Peep!" She twirled, showing her ridiculously fluffy dress to full effect. "Well? What do you think?"
"You look like a cupcake," Zoro told her honestly.
"Jerk, who asked you anyway?" Perona snapped.
"Uh, you did," Zoro pointed out. He ended up face down in the street a moment later, wishing he were an earthworm.
"You look lovely, my dear," Cygnus put in more diplomatically, minding his manners to avoid also becoming victim to one of her negativity sheep.
Perona gasped.
"YOU'RE KING GOOSEY!" she exclaimed. "Oh my gosh! You even kind of LOOK like a goose!"
Cygnus' eyebrow twitched. "Am I to take that as a compliment?"
"Nope!" Perona giggled.
"Honk!" He grabbed her ear in his toes, boxing it as she flailed. "Don't you forget that I am a King, Missy! Not to mention one of your elders! You will treat me with respect!"
He ended up face down in the street next to Zoro, wishing he were dirt.
When the effects of Perona's powers had worn off and everyone had calmed down, Zoro set about trying on the jacket she'd found. It actually fit pretty well, and looked decent. They bought it and the white mask without further fuss.
"So I hope you can get us into the palace," Perona told Cygnus as she led the way toward it. "I checked there for you guys first. They aren't letting any outside guests come in."
"Really?" Cygnus asked in genuine surprise. "That's odd. Normally the party at the palace is open to the public. Helena and I enjoy seeing the costumes that the people come up with."
Despite Perona's best efforts to serve as a guide, her two directionally challenged companions had trouble walking in a straight line. For a brief moment they took an accidental detour away from her and into another festive city side street.
"Oo-Waaaah!" a child said, running past Cygnus and Zoro as they looked around, trying to get their bearings. "I'm the palace ghost child!"
A woman who had to be the child's mother ran up behind him, catching him and lifting him off of his feet. "Now none of that," she said sternly. "You said you wanted to be a ghost, not that ghost in particular. It's…" she caught sight of Cygnus and her eyes opened wide. "…disrespectful," she finished, gaping at him. She bowed to him suddenly, still clutching her struggling son. "Your Majesty! I am so sorry. We meant no disrespect to the Queen…!"
"Oh," Cygnus chuckled in a slightly forced manner. "Do you think I'm actually King Cygnus? I've been told I look like him, so I tried to dress the part."
"You're very like him," the woman said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I work in the palace, so I'd know. I'm afraid I know all about the ghost stories too. I never should have told him..."
"Ah," Cygnus said, glancing uneasily at Zoro, who's brow lifted in curiosity. "Well, they are, after all, just stories…"
"I've heard that ghost," the woman insisted. "Back right after Her Majesty lost the prince to Hera's jealousy. I heard that child wailing in the halls from beyond the grave, tormenting his mother when she couldn't reach him. It was downright cruel what they did to her, but I don't suppose it's for us to question the gods. Likely she deserves her punishment."
Cygnus and Zoro both stiffened at this.
"Helena the Heretic lost her only son!" the boy sang out suddenly, "Her man insulted Hera, now she has no one!"
"Hush!" his mother scolded, clapping a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry. We've told him that song is rude, but he just won't listen."
Cygnus flexed his toes within his sandals, but apparently decided against giving the impudent rascal a proper pinching. "I'm sure he can't help it. That song is pretty catchy, and they play it on every street corner on nights like this," he said casually. The mother relaxed and put her son down. "Well, it was nice talking to you. Enjoy the festival."
Cygnus turned to walk away, and Zoro made to follow but found his way blocked by the ghost boy. He'd stopped short in front of Zoro, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the pirate with narrowed eyes.
"Your costume's pretty good," he said analytically. "But Roronoa Zoro wears white. How else is he supposed to beat Nemo?"
"I'll keep that in mind," Zoro replied. He might have chuckled, but his mind was still reeling with what he'd just heard. "What was THAT about?" he growled to Cygnus when they were out of earshot of the child and his mother. "Our son is a ghost? And why are they calling Helena a Heretic? What's Hera got to do with any of this?"
"I'm surprised you haven't heard the songs already. You know Helena destroyed Hera's temple at least, yes?"
Zoro's brow furrowed and he shook his head. He remembered his dream; remembered hearing Hera's vindictive laughter as the beam passed through him to hit Helena and their son. "Why did she…? Did Hera do something to our son?"
"I already told you, if you want to know more you will have to speak with my daughter," Cygnus insisted.
"Maybe," Zoro said, "Or maybe I should just go back and talk to that kid. He seems plenty willing to say what everyone else is afraid to."
"All you will get out here on the street are rumors that have been mystified into tall tales," Cygnus pointed out crisply. "If it's the truth you're after…"
"THERE YOU ARE!" Perona shrieked, marching up to them with her arms pumping. "Don't make me put leashes on you!"
Zoro followed Cygnus and Perona in a sulky silence after that, chewing on what he'd learned with a feeling of foreboding forming in the pit of his stomach. That kid had sung about Helena the Heretic; had spoken of the gods torturing her with the cries of their dead child, as though they held him in torment beyond the grave. The absentee father of said child was likely the last person she wanted to see after enduring all that. Anyway, hadn't the song said something about Helena's man ticking Hera off?
Maybe he didn't want to know what had happened to their child after all. He might not like what he discovered. He already regretted seeing Helena once today, right?
He stopped short in the street, and Perona and Cygnus both turned to look at him, the later with concern creasing his brows. Zoro took a deep breath to steady himself, then tied on his bandana, put on his mask, and pulled his hood up.
"What, getting into the festive spirit?" Cygnus asked in relief.
"That kid was like the fifth person to tell me I got my costume wrong," Zoro replied tetchily. "I'm tired of losing my own lookalike contest."
There were few trifles in life that grated on Her Majesty's nerves quite like trying on a new dress for a royal function. Not that she had anything against feminine apparel; it was just that the formal wear made her feel vulnerable. Floor length satin and layers of chiffon tended to get in the way of her fighting style. And tonight of all nights she needed every sword free.
"Diddy," she said flatly, eyeing the woman's latest fashion concoction with displeasure. "I chose to dress as Persephone tonight so I could wear something traditional and, um, less, uh…less….Just less."
The ninety-year-old fashion designer inspected the gown through a pair of thick-framed, non-prescription square-rimmed glasses. These she wore over a smaller pair of prescription bifocals, which were actually useful. "You told me you didn't want a corset…"
"Yes, well…" Helena started.
"And as you can see, there's no corset."
The elderly woman tossed a striped scarf around her thin, aged shoulders, revealing that the plain, crimin brand sweatshirt beneath it said, "#adulting." She turned the dress form on which the gown rested, pinching the green satin waist to show that it indeed had no corset, nor even boning beneath.
"I also said…"
"That you never again wanted to wear a dress as large and cumbersome as the one you wore at your coronation. This dress is neither large nor cumbersome."
Helena sighed, wondering why she even bothered arguing fashion with a woman who insisted on wearing a false mustache. Mustaches were "in" these days, but Diddy claimed she'd been into them before they'd become the latest trend. She'd also dyed her hair green "before it was cool." (Actually, she'd first done it right after Zoro left, at the same time that everyone else started doing it). Now it looked ombre grey to green, probably as both a fashion statement and to keep from having to dye it as often.
"Diddy, you know I respect that you work hard to try and show me in my best light," Helena put in diplomatically, "But amongst the suitors I'd really feel more comfortable if I had access to the use of my foot swords…"
"And you do!" Diddy said, raising her perfectly penciled eyebrows excitedly. She had a diamond stud in her eyebrow, and wore smokey eyeshadow, making her dark eyes all the more expressive. "Check this out."
The floor length, emerald gown had a tulip style part in the front. Helena had assumed at first glance that it would open to another layer of fabric beneath. To her surprise it opened to nothing.
"And look! I have matching trousers for you to wear beneath it!" Diddy exclaimed, holding out the article of clothing proudly. "You see! Have I ever failed to deliver before?"
"Ah, so it's got ties, that's good," Helena said, dodging the question as she inspected the gown further. The ties to which she referred were a pair of ribbons that could hold the dress open like a curtain.
"And open-toed sandals, see!" Diddy held up the green, strappy shoes, thankfully without heels. They'd been designed to look like vines, completing the 'spring goddess' look. "Ok, why the long face now? What have I done wrong this time?"
"It's beautiful," Helena said, forcing a smile.
"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?" Diddy pouted.
"I know why," a voice said from the door to the fitting room. "But if I may, Little Swan, it might not be a bad thing to put your best foot forward tonight."
"Papa!" Helena exclaimed, turning sharply toward Cygnus. She ran to embrace him, laughing out of sheer relief. "Dear Gods, I was so worried about you! Where in Hades have you been? Did you find Hector and the others? Are they all right?"
"They're fine," he said. "Diddy, if I may, I need a moment alone with my daughter."
Diddy had stared at him from the second he'd made his presence known, her expression pensive.
"Diddy?" Cygnus prodded.
"Ah, yes. I'm sorry, I just…" the elderly though spry woman shook her head quickly as though to clear it. "Just one more thing." She retrieved a large velvet box, holding it toward Helena. "This is a gift from my grandson, Agamemnon, and from his daughter, Raqueline. They wanted to thank you for all the work you've done to help them recover the sea prism business."
Helena opened the box to find an intricate circlet of silver, diamonds, and sea prism porcelain. It had been shaped to look like delicate vines, and woven with golden pomegranate blossoms. The Queen smiled, and for Diddy's benefit she placed it on her head in place of her usual crown. It fit perfectly around her brow.
"It's beautiful. Raqueline does amazing work, as always," Helena said. "Tell them both thank you from me."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Diddy bowed and exited.
"You see," Cygnus told her the moment Diddy had gone. "You've done good work. The economy is better than ever."
"I suppose," Helena said. She stood in front of a floor length mirror in the fashion designer's work room. Turning her head one way and the other, she inspected the gift, which had come from the most prominent businessman in the country and his talented artisan daughter. The thin, delicate metalwork of the wreath was so beautiful that it distracted her for a moment, but she quickly returned to the matter at hand. "Father, what's going on. Where have you been?"
"We'll have to go into that later," he said. "Helena, I came to warn you. Tonight there will be…"
"An attempt on my life?" Helena asked. She turned to the dress form and started unbuttoning the back of the gown. Diddy didn't believe in zippers, much to Helena's annoyance. "Yes, I know. The Princes and a bunch of marines are going to try something at the party tonight. Sundown I believe is the appointed time."
Cygnus smiled at her, though she didn't see it. She was too busy wrestling the dress free of the dress form. "You knew?" he asked in surprise. "Dear gods, of course you knew. That's why you've closed the palace party off from the public."
"Wouldn't want any of our citizens getting caught in the crosshairs, would we?" Helena pointed out. "Not that I anticipate crosshairs."
"What do you mean?" Cygnus asked as she took the gown behind a partition so she could start changing. "You do know how the attempt is going to take place, I hope."
"Well, at first I thought they'd just try the classic et tu Brute, but just this afternoon Paris discovered that they were going to try to poison me using some gas canisters they've set up around the throne room," Helena said, grinning. "I told you that man was the right one for the security position. – Anyway, we're pretty sure we've located all of the bombs. The servants have secretly replaced all of the poison with a harmless vapor. Should be quite a show, but I don't expect anyone will get hurt."
"So you mean to let them think they are going through with it? Why the drama?"
"Don't you see? This is the chance we've been waiting for!" Helena exclaimed, struggling to get the dress over her head. It had been made to fit like a glove, which didn't leave much wiggle room. Normally she'd have Diddy's help, but her father had just dismissed her. "You told me to do everything I can to avoid a war with our neighboring countries, so I've played nice with those ninnies for the past two years. But when I prove that their intentions are a bald-faced lie, I can finally kick them to the curb!"
She came out from behind the partition, a little pink in the face from tussling with the gown. As she walked she attempted to button up the back of the dress on her own, grinning in triumph over her plan. She paused in her buttoning, the smile on her face fading when she caught the pensive expression furrowing her father's brow.
"Please don't tell me I can't kick them out after this," she pleaded.
"This is bigger than an assassination or revenge attempt on just you, Helena," Cygnus pointed out to her. "They are conspiring with the World Government to take over the country."
"Yes, I know," Helena said. "They tried poisoning the pomegranate wine we give to the citizens during the festival. We switched the barrels out, though, and…"
Cygnus let out a chuckle. "You switched the barrels out?" he asked. "Oh dear. I suppose we just wasted a whole lot of good wine."
"What do you mean?" Helena asked. She again attempted to button up the back of her own dress, and though she got partway up, her father soon came to her aid. She stood in front of the big mirror so they could still look at one another as they spoke.
"Well, Hector and his men just smashed all the wine barrels to keep everyone from drinking it," he said as his fingers worked the buttons.
"No!" Helena turned, her dress still half open in the back as she looked at her father in consternation. "Father, that will have alerted our enemies that we're on to them! Now they'll call off the assassination! How will I kick out all of the stupid princes now?"
Her father met her frustrated gaze with a pensive one of his own, then he shook his head slowly, turning her calmly back around so he could finish buttoning the back of her dress. "You won't have to worry about any more suitors after tonight," he said, a mischievous smile tweaking his lips.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she started.
"Though I don't think they will call the assassination off," he said, not answering her question. He paused in his buttoning, and she could see in the mirror that his gaze rested on the wicked scratch scar on her back. "Not if Regent is in charge."
"Regent?" Helena gasped, "Father, you don't mean…that Regent?"
"That's precisely who I mean," Cygnus said quietly, his blue eyes flashing up at her and revealing the angry father behind his calm words.
"I thought you blew his head off with the Mask of Zeus."
"So did I, but apparently his devil fruit power allowed him to survive somehow," Cygnus informed her, pursing his lips. "To be honest, I believe it's me that he's after more than you. I was planning on laying low during the party, but perhaps if I make an appearance they will try to go through with the assassination, if only so Regent can get his revenge."
He finished the last button then stepped back so Helena could retrieve and put on a pair glittering diamond earrings; if one looked closely enough, they had the form of a skull. Persephone was the Queen of the Underworld after all. Cygnus placed a matching skull necklace about his daughter's slender neck as she pulled on a pair of black satin gloves.
"You look lovely, Little Swan," he told her when they had finished. "This really is a good night for you to look your best."
He knew she didn't like to make it seem like she was flirting with the suitors. For the past two years she'd put away anything in her wardrobe that could come across as too attractive or too feminine. "I suppose if this is the last night I have to see any of those creeps, I don't mind letting them see me like this," she said, fastening a diamond skull bracelet about her wrist.
She turned to him, a little surprised to see her father studying her with a proud look on his face. It took a lot to please him, she knew. Her new floral crown was a little crooked after all her work with the dress, and he lifted it off of her head in order to straighten it.
"I know the burdens of the crown have weighed heavily on you these past few years," he told her sincerely. "And I know I seem to do nothing but criticize. But Helena, you have come a long way. I can honestly say that you bear it well."
He kissed her forehead tenderly, then replaced the crown. When he released it, Helena took one of his hands and pressed it to her cheek. "Thank you, Papa," she said. "That means a lot coming from you."
After destroying all of the wine barrels, General Hector had quickly though strategically set his men around the city and Mycenae, just in case those hidden marines he'd heard about decided to attack any civilians. When he was sure his orders would be carried out, he had returned the palace.
He wanted to address the Queen directly, but she was occupied getting ready for the party that night. Anyway, she had a Head of Palace security for a reason. Hector found his younger brother, Paris in the palace infirmary, surrounded by beautiful nurses.
"Hector!" he whined when the General walked through the door. The younger of the two brothers held up a mirror, blocking his face from view. "Hector, Calypso ruined my beautiful face!"
Hector braced himself for what he'd see as Paris lowered the mirror. When the General finally had a full view, he raised a heavy brow incredulously.
"Oh, did you cut yourself shaving?"
The pretty boy had split the side of his chin. It hardly needed a few butterfly bandages, much less stitches.
"You beast! Have some sympathy!" Paris wailed, and one of the nurses leaned his head against her shoulder, stroking his hair.
"Uh, could you give us a moment, ladies?" Hector asked. "Palace business."
"Wait!" Paris cried as the ladies let out a collective moan. "One more shellfie, ladies. I'll post it on my Instaclam."
They crowded around Paris as he held up the snail camera on a stick. "Sad, sickie faces!" he said, frowning melodramatically. The nurses pouted out their lips, looking more like ducks than anything. When he'd taken the picture, the nurses filed out, though not without first planting a number of kisses on his person.
"Aw, come on, Hector. Don't be jealous," Paris prodded, completely misinterpreting the General's unamused expression. "I know even with my mangled face I can get more ladies than you ever have, but…"
"You have got to be kidding me," Hector said flatly. "Paris, while you've been goofing around here, were you even aware that the Queen is about to be…?"
"Assassinated?" Paris supplied, inspecting his face in the mirror again. "Yes, yes, that's old news. We've got it all taken care of."
"It's not going to happen like you think," Hector went on, "The Marines disguised as princes are just…"
"Decoys, yes," Paris said dismissively. "The poison's been found and dealt with. So are you done trying to do my job, or can we go back to talking about the matter at hand here?" he indicated his hardly scuffed face.
Hector blinked at him. "Wait, you already knew?"
"Brother mine, why must you always doubt me?" Paris sighed dramatically to his reflection, smoothing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. "I also know that King Cygnus has been found; rather, that he just arrived at the palace and brought two mystery guests into the party. I've had my people working on identifying them. One appears to be Perona aka the Ghost Princess, one of the late Gecko Moria's commanders. Still working on why Cygnus would have her with him…"
So she really was one of Moria's commanders, for all she acted like a twit. "She's not a hostile," Hector informed him. "She's on our side."
"That's good to know. I'm still working on the identity of the second guest, but it's only a matter of time before…"
Hector grinned at him slyly. "Oh, so you mean there's actually something I know that you don't?"
Paris finally lowered the mirror, looking at him with an unamused expression. "Ok, fine. Spill."
"No, I don't think I will," Hector said with a grin.
"Are you going to make me beg? You know I can get it out of you."
Paris and Hector had many brothers, of which Hector was the eldest and Paris was the youngest. While Paris drove Hector crazy just about all of the time, he also had the advantage of being baby brother, something he'd known how to milk since before he could walk.
He pouted out his lower lip, letting it tremble. Hector covered his eyes and turned away:
"No! Anything but that!" he cried in genuine consternation, inundated with an overwhelming wave of flashbacks .– He saw Paris pouting like that as a baby wanting to be held, as a toddler wanting a cookie, as a kid wanting to sneak out without their dad knowing.
"Pwease, Hectow?" Paris pleaded, his chocolate brown eyes round and pleading. "Pa-weeeeease?"
Not the Pwease! Anything but the Pwease! Hector dared another glimpse at him, and regretted it. With that one look, Paris finally broke him.
"Argh! FINE!" Hector glanced about furtively, noticing a couple of Paris' security agents standing by the door, but no infirmary personnel. He still leaned in conspiratorially and whispered the identity of Cygnus' second guest into Paris' ear.
Paris gave a start, dropping the mirror in surprise. He stared at Hector.
"You're sure?" he gasped. "You're sure you're sure?"
"Positive," Hector said. "I've also spoken to the King. He wants me to…" he leaned in furtively and whispered the plan Cygnus had disclosed to him. Paris' eyes grew, if possible, wider.
"Hm, I really don't think Queen Helena-Chan is going to like that," he said. "We should really run it by her first. Anyway, shouldn't you be out in the streets with your troops in case the WG tries anything tonight? You were aware that they have some of their men disguised as civilians, yes?"
Hector nodded. "They have their orders. They'll be fine. Anyway, if we tell Helena, we'll ruin the surprise!" he pointed out. "Her father is authority enough for me."
"I guess so," Paris replied. "Huh. Now I'm thinking about leaving the infirmary. I don't want to miss the fun. But if I go before the doctors are done with me, I could scar!"
"They said you could leave a few hours ago," one of the agents by the door reminded him, making Hector snort. Of course Paris had only stayed behind to flirt with the nurses.
"It's ok, little bro," Hector said, patting him on the shoulder, "Chicks dig scars, you know."
"Is that true?" Paris asked, turning his puppy eyes on the second agent, who happened to be female.
"Uh…yes sir," she said in a no-nonsense kind of voice.
"Good enough for me!" Paris said, throwing off his blankets and leaping out of bed as Hector rolled his eyes. "Let's get this party started!"