Work Text:
[ Welcome to Greatest☆Idol!
Introduction: our time in this world can be short, so let us celebrate every new year we have together. So said Lady Athena. Sanctuary has been a stage for the public in this way.
But this New Year’s Eve, for the first time ever! Our live broadcast will go beyond Sanctuary! We’ll be livestreaming our big bang to the Underworld, Atlantis, and the moon. We’re letting every Specter, Mariner, Angel, and more join in the fun! Let’s sing, dance! Let’s party!
Everyone’s favorite MCs are returning!
*Me, Ursla Minor Bai Xiaoling!*
*Our lovely Delphenus Yukino*
*The guardian of our Legions, Lance~ (He’s sooo cool!)*
We’re joined by this year’s special judges!☆
*Mister Chrysaor Krishna*
*Sir Griffon Minos*
*Master Cancer Deathtoll*
*Miss Hecate*
You’ve been chosen as a performer for our fifth New Year’s Eve party. Hooray!
The rules are simple!☆
*No cosmo! We want this to be a safe and fair event! Cosmo is completely prohibited!
*No Cloth, no Scale, no Surplice, no Glory, no weapons! We want a party, not a battle! Anyone who uses these in the event (including performers!) will be banned and/or disqualified!
*No deities! Let’s give our gods and goddesses a break for this one special day. We want them to enjoy our show!
And this year, we added a special rule.
We’ll be splitting performers into two groups: Team White and Team Red. Hmm, hmm… Ah, there you are! I found you! You are in…! ]
Static. Preppy background music stops. Muffled microphone noises scratch the audio recording. A deadpan masculine voice reads, “Team White.”
Upbeat music restores for the bubbly Saintia’s narration. [ Congratulations! Judges will be voting on the strength of every performance for each team. One. at. a. time! We’ll also have special stages where both teams perform together. Look forward to it!
At the end of the night, the winning team receives—! Ta-daah! An extraordinary orichalum trophy! And winners also receive a posable figurine with designs from the popular action MMORPG Saint Fight! Winners can choose between Lady Athena, Lord Hades, or Lord Poseidon. You won’t see these in stores. They’re exclusive to winners of this event. Wow!
Good luck, everyone! Shine bright on the live stage! Bai Xiaoling, signing off!☆]
Pandora lowered her midnight-colored smartphone as the audio recording ended.
“Understand, Rhadamanthys?”
Wyvern grunted. His fingers ground against his armored palm, deepening his kneel.
“If I may, Lady Pandora. I am not refined in the arts such as your esteemed self. I request that you search for another Specter to assist you in this endeavor.”
“That is not an option. You were registered by another party before we received this notice.”
He curled his lip, sucking in through his teeth. Who dared!?
“What!? By whom!?”
“I do not know. I cannot decipher the motive, but it does not matter. Losing face before Athena’s Saints shall not be permitted. To withdraw this late would bring disgrace to Lord Hades’s name. We cannot permit that to happen. Understand, Rhadamanthys?”
He winced. It was shameful to admit weakness, yet the stakes weren’t about his ego. “Yes, milady. However, in the event if I were to fail—”
Pandora chuckled. She crossed her arms, her long dress sleeves sleeking the throne chamber. Her voice snaked a venomous chill up his spine. He bowed his head.
“Be at ease. I have registered as well. I shall be performing with Pharaoh and Orphée. And others if we are fortunate. Did you believe I had not prepared a contingency plan for your incompetence?”
“...Never, milady.”
“Unfortunately, I am on Team Red. You are the only one of the 108 Specters to be assigned to Team White. With your participation alone, the results do not matter. Our victory for Lord Hades is certain. We must perform that night.”
Her steps echoed in the chamber. Her heel clacked next to his fist. The pole end of her trident thumped near his armored shoulder.
“I, Pandora, command you: use the final two weeks of this year to train yourself for the stage. Your act must embellish Lord Hades’s glory. Do not disappoint me, Rhadamanthys.”
“As you wish, Lady Pandora.”
Bowing once more, Wyvern blurred away from the chamber. Pandora sensed for any other presence. She found none. She turned, approaching the empty throne. She lay her trident to rest on the marble tile and bowed. Towards drawn ebony curtains behind the grand chair, she addressed. “Does that meet our lord’s satisfaction, my queen?”
The fragrance of wheat swirled around her. Sprouts matured and withered by her knees.
“Quite. Well done. Lord Hades is delighted. As am I. Victory shall be sweet.”
“I am honored by your praise.”
“...That accursed barrier of two Athenas…! Keeping me from my Lord Hades figurine! Ah!”
“It shall be yours, my queen. We shall not fail you.”
Lounging within his personal quarters, Rhadamanthys stared outside his window. Lightning streaked across the panes, howling of the damned echoed in the midnight below him. He swirled the wine in his glass. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. Two weeks to plan. Two weeks to train.
Train for what?
Singing? That was a popular choice for the stage. In his life? Never again. He didn’t need Aiacos to insult him about his tone-deafness. It was just that one song… and it was enough. Two weeks was too short to learn an instrument with considerable skill. Music was the one art he knew Lord Hades appreciated, and it was out of the question for him.
What did performers do anyway? He set aside his wine glass and rose from his window seat. Turning on the lamp at his desk, he powered up his personal computer. That bizarre world of broken space-time and cosmo was not the one he knew in another life, but it had its uses.
Online research unearthed other possibilities. He could recite a Greek tragedy, perhaps. Poetry? Attempt comedy? Experimental performance art? Ugh, no. Lord Hades despised the impractical follies of men. As did he. Besides, his performance would be broadcast before the eyes of thousands. He would never hear the end of it if Kanon happened to be watching.
Ego or not, Rhadamanthys had his orders. As the night dragged on, the path to fulfilling them appeared darker and darker. He scowled as he read another dead end.
Three knocks at his closed door. His gaze remained on the monitor.
“Enter.”
Wheeling of a food tray into the room. He was reading an article about a stage art related to a craft with a strange name. What was cosplay? Scanning the photographs and their captions, he scrolled to read the lengthier definition. Sewing. Another fruitless endeavor for him. He grunted, closing the browser tab. He idly twirled a pen near his keyboard.
“State your business, Valentine.”
Behind his chair, his servant spoke. Hints of concern dotted Valentine’s voice.
“Lord Rhadamanthys, the hour is late. If you will not dine, please consider your rest.”
“I must have a chokehold on an act in two weeks’ time. One that will please Lord Hades. It is my task alone. You are not obligated to serve me for the night, Valentine.”
He typed into the search bar. Harpy clapped his hands.
“May I suggest an idea, sir?”
“Be swift.”
Valentine leaned close to his master’s ear and whispered his recommendation. Wyvern’s shoulders jolted. He recoiled, his cheeks aflame. He snapped the pen in half.
“No!”
“But sir, you are so talented as—”
“Silence! You shall not say that name again in my presence! I forbid it!”
“Yet what other options do you have, Lord Rhadamanthys? The clock struck midnight just minutes ago. Time is against you. You have less than thirteen days left to prepare.”
Point taken. Burying his face in his hands, Rhadamanthys groaned. Valentine bowed from the hip. His voice, softer. Caring.
“I am but your humble servant, Lord Rhadamanthys. You may decline at your discretion. Permit me to say this is a wonderful opportunity to display… your talent. With the right partner. Lord Hades would approve of your perfect skill. Of that, I am certain.”
“...We shall see.”
Wyvern waved his dismissal. He waited until Valentine’s heels clipped outside his room before he rose from his computer chair. He turned off his computer. He stretched. He breathed deep.
And resolved to complete his mission by stepping into the darkest corner of his closet.
* * *
“Hello, everyone! For those tuning in, we’re live at the stage of Greatest☆Idol! I’m Ursla Minor Bai Xiaoling!”
Beside the bubbly Saintia, a girl with long baby blue hair waved at the camera.
“And I’m her co-host, Delphenus Yukino. Pleased to meet you, everyone who is joining in.”
Xiaoling gestured to a fit young man with a head of long snow-colored hair. The cameraman swiveled to capture his figure.
“That esteemed gentleman over there is Sir Lance. He keeps us up to schedule.”
“Introductions for me are unnecessary.”
“They’re not! You’re one of our MCs! It’s called etiquette!”
“Coming up next is a pair calling themselves Owl and Behemoth. They shall represent Team Red on the stage.”
“Hey, don’t ignore me!”
Rhadamanthys analyzed the team performances thus far. Team White started strong with the three-man Gold Saint idol group ASA Agents. Team Red dragged behind them with an enka sung by Acheron Charon and a metal band session by KAI☆SHOGUN. Team White regained a lead with an elaborate musical stunt show: Detective Aiolos and The Chase for Mr. Gemini. Lady Pandora’s collaboration with other musicians brought Team Red into a two-point lead that was retained for three performances straight.
He compared individual scores among the Specters and other performers. Of course Lady Pandora’s group scored the highest with a near perfect score. His fingers tingled with nerves.
Backstage, during Owl and Behemoth’s duet, his servant hovered near him. Valentine’s gloved hands smoothed his master’s cloak. With a sly grin, he leaned closer to his ear. His pink hair tickled Rhadamanthys’s nose as he murmured.
“I’m glad you listened to my suggestion, Lord Rhadamanthys. Imagine if you hadn’t.”
“You made a fair argument. You helped me solve a mystery as well.”
“You shall soar high like a proud wyvern in flight, sir.”
“Was there any doubt?”
Harpy gently shook his head. He kneeled to dust the cuffs of his master’s sparkling boots and excused himself to attend to stage preparations. Good. One of them was confident.
No, weakness had no place here. Strength was needed. He tugged down his mask and pounded his bare chest. To beat the courage into him. He waited in darkness as the judges’ final scores were read. Lady Pandora ordered him “to train for the stage,” yet she didn’t understand the full context herself. Valentine was quick to catch onto what had already been arranged without his knowledge.
By a crafty devil.
One that he was going to punish.
Adjusting his gloves a final time, he hopped over the ropes. The stage beneath him rumbled and gradually elevated upward. Young Saintia announced his stage name to the crowd, a name he had shared in confidence. He could see it now, he was a fool. That man’s lips were loose.
Spotlight flared onto his shoulders. Showtime. He snarled, hardly needing to get into character. In a grave voice, he bellowed.
“I should have known you alone would do this. Only you would go to such lengths to defile what should have been kept sacred. Only you would consider unspoken trust a game for sport. Only you would dare to prod the belly of a wyvern and expect to escape alive. You shall pay dearly for this!”
With a dramatic swing of his arm, his bejeweled cloak spiraled into the air. He narrowed his eyes to the darkness ahead of him.
“Kanon!”
Poof! Clouds of staged smoke burst and pillars of fire flared on the opposite side of the ring. Another spotlight shined. Collective gasp from the audience. There he was. Arms crossed, standing tall on the ring post. Donned in a golden sequin cloak, gloves, and boots, the bare-chested Gemini chuckled. He uncrossed his arms. To applaud.
“As expected of the man who has earned my favor. Your brain isn’t mush after all.”
Kanon somersaulted and landed gracefully on his feet in the ring. They circled one another, his anger simmering in his gait. Gemini was suave and collected.
“Why did you expose me like this, Kanon?”
“Because I could. You went on and on about the years you spent practicing every move in secret. I wanted to see the Dazzling Wyvern in action. What better stage than this?”
He wanted to rip that smirk from that smug snake’s face.
“You wanted to witness the Dazzling Wyvern’s techniques? They’ll be the last glorious sight you see in your final five minutes of life.”
Kanon chuckled. He tossed his cloak aside, his posture shifting into defense.
“Just look at you. You’re a natural at this. We should have done this sooner.“
“I’ll tear you apart!”
Lunging through the last shreds of embarrassment, Rhadamanthys grappled Kanon. They rolled on the ring, his chest burning as he locked and dragged Kanon into a wheelbarrow arm drag.
The Saintia MCs clasped their hands, their cheer radiant. Their eyes sparkled.
“Could it be—”
“A match between wrestling idols!”
Roars exploded around the ring as Kanon flowed into a reversal and suplexed Rhadamanthys.
* * *
Hades curled his grip on the remote. Barbaric. Savage. His sensitive ears had been subjected to gore with the previous performers’ lyrics. Now he was bearing witness to senseless violence. Such vulgarity. How could the audience cheer as they did? His queen must not be subjected to that farce. Her delicate heart could not bear it. He would have stern words with Rhadamanthys later. Hades would protect his queen.
The instant before he pressed the Power button, Persephone rocketed from their bed. The blanket they shared fell to her feet. She pumped her elegant fists and cheered.
“Get that scum, Rhadamanthys! Show that pathetic Gold Saint your might!”
His thumb paused. That—that was joy? She was pleased? Minutes later, the bell rang. Neither performer was down or pinned in five minutes. A draw. Promises for a rematch next year.
Attention returned to the bright monitor in their chambers, the God of the Underworld read the score card from the judges. Final score: 36 out of 40 points. One of the highest totals under his name, second only to Pandora’s orchestra. Impressive.
Once his wife calmed, she crawled back into bed within his arms. His gaze was drawn to the flush of her cheeks, the cheer radiating in her eyes. Hades drew another blanket around her dainty shoulders and embraced her. Her golden hair spilled across his chest, her head soft against his chin. Perhaps… his judgment was premature. Merit was found in that act after all. If his queen so wished, he would permit that barbarism in the Underworld as well. He vowed to ask her after the festivities ended.
For now, the king would observe the show with her. That year and the next year’s climax. When they could share winter leisure together, watching the greatest spectacle of that bizarre world, he could bask in what their proper timelines forbade them. He was lost in her smile and her laughter. His golden sunlight. Comfort settled in his heart.
Because for one night in the entire year, he was allowed to be a man who worshiped his wife.