section7mfu | "Danse Macabre"~ for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge 11/4

(the prompt)

(play while reading)

It was nearing the witching hour as Napoleon Solo, dressed formally in black tails, a white vest and bow tie, moved gracefully around the dance floor with his partner. His gloved hands held those of the Grand Duchess Allegra Beatrix Gwyneth Aurelia Mariella Elisabeth of Ingolstein, and who was also his current assignment.

She was a pleasant girl, pretty and intelligent, though Solo thought she was a little young for him. That however wasn’t his focus. He was guarding her, and that was all, as Illya succinctly reminded him.

“Please Napoleon, do not let your libido control your thoughts with her. She needs your protection, and not your skills as a lover.”

“She needs your protection…”Those words reverberated in Solo's mind, as a constant reminder.

Allegra was first cousin to the former Grand Duchess Victoria, who after marrying the hoodlum Artie King, eventually renounced her title, and ended all attachments to the kingdom. *

Victoria ran off with her husband to some island in the Caribbean, and she managed to take a sizeable sum from the royal treasury with her, no doubt part of Artie’s influence. Apparently he wasn’t quite that reformed…

Sadly the two had frittered away a good portion of the money before perishing in a sky diving accident.

Her father, Prince Ferdinand, younger brother to the former Prince Fredrich who was now exiled for life, grieved but he still had other matters to attend to, and not being a well man; he needed to ensure that his remaining heir was granted her title and presented to the aristocracy of his little world.

Today was the twenty-first birthday of his niece Allegra, the daughter of his late sister. The girl had been away attending school in Switzerland while the whole fiasco with the gangsters and Artie King took place in Ingolstein and had been spared involvement in that intrigue. She was well educated and would make an excellent leader for the small country, perhaps even more so than her cousin Victoria would have been.

So here Solo and Kuryakin were back in the tiny kingdom again upon royal request to oversee the investiture of Allegra as Grand Duchess and heir to the throne.

There were rumors the girl’s life was in danger, that she was going to be kidnapped and held for ransom. Her position put her in that precarious postiton as she would be the next ruler of Ingolstein. Her Uncle Ferdinand, unbeknownst to the kingdom, was planning to abdicate once Allegra had been named the official heir apparent at tonights ball.

There was nothing that offered solid proof to the girl being in danger, but still there were too many rumors to take a chance.

The Prince planned to make the announcement of his stepping down as ruler as soon as the clock struck one minute after midnight. Allegra would be officially be of age to rule according to the royal charter.

Once she took his place, the eyes of the world would be on her, and he felt for that reason she’d be safer. The royal guard was antiquated so until that time, Ferdinand knew U.N.C.L.E. was his best hope to ensure his niece’s safety.

Illya Kuryakin dressed similarly to his partner, was observing Napoleon and the Grand Duchess from the sidelines. He waved his declination to dance to yet another bejeweled woman who had approached him, pointing to his leg and saying his knee had been injured during a polo match and he was unable acquiesce to her request.

That didn’t stop them from staring at him, chattering like magpies. He caught a few of them commenting on his zhopa but all he could do was smile and maintain an aura of blissful ignorance. He detested this sort of bourgeois aristocracy.

Illya cocked his head, listening to the music now being played and thought was a bit odd for a celebratory
occasion; recognizing it as Camille Saint-Saëns, ‘Danse Macabre.’

It was strange as the dancers seemed to be mesmerized by the music, more than theyseemingly should have been.

The Russian shook his head, feeling his heart begin to race. He forced himself to breathe slowly, in and out, attempting to calm himself.

Something was wrong. Napoleon’s demeanor had changed. He was no longer smiling and had a blank stare. Allegra seemed to droop in Solo’s arms, being moved along with him like a rag doll. They began moving faster and faster, as were the rest of the dancers.

People surrounding the dance floor seemed to be swooning.

Illya raised his wrist, speaking into a microphone hidden in his cuff; the signal would go to the receiver in his partner’s ear.

“Napoleon, something issss wrooonnnng,” Illya’s voice sounded like he was speaking in slow motion. “Gas,” he thought, “there had to be some sort of gas being released in the ballroom. He needed to breathe fresh air.

His legs felt like they were mired in mud as he tried to move towards the French doors at the far end of the room, leading to a balcony. “No, this issss not working,” he said aloud.

“NA-PO-LE-ON!” Illya shouted into the mic one last time.

Solo stopped, though the dancers around him kept whirling and spinning as if they were controlled by some unseen puppeteer.

“Stop the muuuussssic,” Solo moaned into his on transmitter.”Can’t stop moooving.”

Illya drew his weapon from his shoulder holster, and pointing it with an unsure hand; he aimed it in the direction of the orchestra and fired.

The conductor grabbed the back of his neck where the sleep dart hit, and slumping forward, he hit his music stand, toppling with it to the floor.

The music ceased instantly.

Napoleon shook his head, regaining his senses, and dragging the Grand Duchess through the crowd of dazed dancers, some of whom slowly collapsed to the black and white checkered floor; he whisked her out of the ballroom.

Illya covered their retreat as they disappeared through a hidden door, opening to a corridor which they followed to a balcony, and there the three of them stepped out into the open air.

Napoleon remained with his charge while Kuryakin, feeling refreshed, took off back to the ballroom and weaved his way through the bewildered guests. Finally making it to those French doors, he opened them, letting in the night air.

One by one everyone in attendance at the coronation ball slowly returned to their senses.

The Grand Duchess along with her ailing Uncle were sequestered in a safe room and once the guests were seen to, the two agents began their questioning that went on well into the night.

It was then discovered that Allegra’s remaining Uncle, Cristiano De Marco was missing.

Napoleon recalled the man, and from the first moment of their meeting he had an odd feeling about him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his intuition told him something wasn’t right.

It was just after four in the morning when Illya discovered several metal gas canisters hidden beneath the stage where the orchestra had been set. Upon examination of the sheet music for the Danse Macabre he discovered an underlying melody that, in combination with the gas, created a trance-like state. Though it seemed to knock out those with a weaker constitution.

It was presumed with everyone incapacitated, Allegra could be taken without interference, and not held for ransom but presumably to be murdered. It was his manservant Rodolfo who turned on his master with that little detail.

Lord De Marco, the Prince’s half-brother, being the only living relation other than Victoria, would be the last one left in line to assume the throne from Ferdinand once he abdicated or died.

By dawn the conspirator was captured trying to cross the border in an attempt to flee Ingolstein.

When all was said and done, Napoleon and Illya sat bleary-eyed but glad everything was over as they relaxed in Kuryakin’s richly appointed bedroom within the castle.

The guests were all gone, The Prince and Grand Duchess were safely tucked away in their quarters. Uncle Cristiano was locked in the dungeon, awaiting the justice of Ingolstein, which presumably would be an executioners axe.

“What is it with the Uncle’s in this family?” Napoleon asked.

“There is always court intrigue and the lure of power to the myopic bourgeoisie is always a powerful aphrodisiac my friend.”

“Speaking of power, we’ll have to get a sample of that gas to Research and Development,” the American said.” I couldn’t stop myself, my body refused to listen to me. It was as though I was being compelled to keep moving and I have to say, that was exhausting. If I kept going, I would have collapsed.

“The gas in combination with the special music was what caused that hypnotic effect. I will have to analyze the score myself. It was fascinating how a mere melody could have that much power over the human will.”

“Music can be a powerfully seductive too, I think you already know that chum.” Napoleon smiled, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

“Yes, but there was something else beyond that, the combination of notes, the minor keys, the time signature. I will figure it out eventually.”

“Well, let’s not worry about that now right now. I think we need to get some well-earned sleep. I made my report to Mr. Waverly and he suggested we stay here for a few more days just to make sure nothing else happens….Illya?

Napoleon snickered, realizing his partner had fallen asleep while sitting up in his chair.

“Good idea tovarisch.” He crossed his arms in front of himself and closed his eyes as well.

“No time like the present.”

*ref “The Round Table Affair” season 2 episode 27