GIANITA

March 1933 CE

Most women say that they enjoy some mystery in a man.

Like a book, where the more you look, the more things you discover about them. The more mysterious the man, the more desirable he becomes.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for Gianita. Her husband-to-be was a mystery, but all it did for her was fill her with anxiety and trepidation.

With a tempestuous heart, she stepped out of her carriage onto the docks of the royal port. There she went, being sent miles across the ocean to a man she'd never known, merely a month after her nineteenth birthday.

Born a princess of Prajanagara, she had long become accustomed to the idea that one day she would enter a political union. So it was no surprise that her father, the King, had arranged her to marry the Emperor of Angletonia, a formidable nation in the western hemisphere. Being the first time they ever sought a consort from the east, it was an honour for them to be selected for the position; a prospect that should be triumphantly rejoiced.

The Emperor was twenty-seven years old, widowed, with a son whom he had appointed as heir. There were louder whispers about his looks, and how lucky she was to marry him. As she had heard many times; met only with a roll of her eyes.

But one thing she had failed to understand; the man who had asked for her hand in marriage made no efforts to get to know her. Unlike her sisters who enjoyed a period of courtship, there were no letters, warm greetings or even words from him; outside the formal exchanges he made with her father.

Wouldn't a man, let alone a master of the world, be interested in his own bride?

Her jaw went slack as she set eyes upon the steamship that was docked at the royal port. This was the ship that was supposed to take her abroad? This humongous thing looked like it could carry an entire village! It eclipsed even the grandest ship belonging to her family.

"There must be a mistake. I don't think this is it, we should go back," she skittishly told the member of staff that had come with her.

"This is it, Your Highness," said a government official, dispatched by the embassy to send her away. "It bears the Angletonian flag on the bulkhead, see."

Turning to the ship, Gigi saw the name 'Angletonia' plastered on its body, and a banner of the Great Serpent; their imperial coat of arms. It was indeed the one.

Her fiance could summon the most ridiculously magnificent steamer in the world to pick her up at a whim, yet he couldn't buy a spare minute to see her once before the wedding? Why couldn't he collect her at the docks himself?

Holding her head high, she climbed aboard, her entourage followed behind her.

The journey there had been emotionally exhausting to her. She had to watch her youngest brother being held back by the servants as her ship set sail. She had never thought he would chase after her, which made everything harder.

Angletonia, a powerful empire that laid across the west, greatly known for their advanced military strength. Ruled by the Leroys, an old noble house bearing the crest of a Serpent. Even the weather differed a lot from home; if Prajanagara had the dry and rainy seasons, Angletonia had freezing winters and windy falls.

Before reaching the mainland, they sailed past the Southern Isles; a large mountainous island with two smaller ones flanking its sides. Magnificent but deserted, void of human contact. The Leroy kings had ruled Angletonia for centuries before conquering them two or three generations ago, making them emperors.

Fourteen days passed before Gigi finally set her foot on Angletonian ground for the first time, adorned in a Kebaya; the Prajan traditional clothing. A long-sleeved white brocade bodice over a Batik skirt, a nod to the Angletonian custom for brides to wear white.

Expecting a carriage, an elegant Cadillac had been sent over to fetch her.

On the way to the palace, she could hear the blaring noises of military aircraft patrolling from above; a reminder of the power and influence the Empire had on other countries, such as her own.

Her mind immediately went to the Emperor. She had yet to meet him, and here she was already immersed in his massive display of power, wealth and luxury. What was he like in person? A tyrant? An overbearing ruler?

But he chose her, he should at least hold some affection for her. Although they never met, she was going to be his wife; she supposed he would be kind.

The imperial palace came into view and the car stopped before an abbey. Her handmaidens put a long embroidered veil over her head; another custom of Angletonia's to put a veil on brides. Gigi wore it like a protective cape, shielding herself from a thousand stares and cheers from the crowd.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she walked down the aisle, but she kept her chin up and shoulders back; repeating the things that her mother had been telling her since she was a little girl.

Be regal. Be noble. Stay proud. You are born to lead these people.

Gigi felt with each pulse how every note sung by the choir brought her another step closer to her groom, who looked little more than a hazy silhouette. He extended his hand, and she took it; feeling warmth enveloping her skin as it was held in his bigger palm.

The music stopped, and he raised his hands, uncovering the veil from her face.

The Emperor was tall and statuesque, and, to her astonishment, looked even better than his portraits. His slicked jet-black hair contrasted his fair complexion; with striking facial features of a sharp nose, succulent lips and cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass. He exuded an air of superiority, but his eyes were a warm, copper brown; bringing the heat onto her cheeks.

Suddenly, there was an urge to lower her gaze, but she refused to give in, keeping her stare level with his. He took notice of it, lips curving into a regal smile.

His name, foreign and unfamiliar on her tongue; as odd as hearing her name in his voice.

I, Cal Raedan, take you Gianita;

To have and to hold;
as equal partner in my life;
to whom I give my deepest loyalty and devotion.

I will respect and honor you;
Always and in all ways;

I give my life to you and all that life entails;
to live with you through trials and triumphs;

From this day forward;
In this world and the next.

She wondered, was 'love' kept out of their vows on purpose?

Her wedding ring rested snugly with the engagement ring, a big one studded with emerald; Leroy style. At least their wedding rings were made of Prajan gold, and she took comfort in it, a small part of herself to bring into their marriage.

The moment they were pronounced as husband and wife, he leant to place a brief kiss upon her lips and she froze, not knowing what to expect. It was warm and velvety, sending her head through the clouds though only for a split second. As they rode together from the abbey to the main palace, she knew it would stay on her mind for a long time. That was her first kiss.

But as they reached the inner hall to entertain their guests with a reception dinner, the Emperor quickly deserted her companionship in favour of another; his son. The Prince was about six years old and looked like his father in miniature. He was first seen rushing to his father's side as soon as they were done with the ceremony, clinging and following him around like a puppy.

Gigi stared across the table at the boy who looked very pleased with being fed by his father. The Emperor no longer bothered to spare her a glance during the reception, his attention focused solely on his son. He didn't even think of introducing them both. Would he also bring the boy to their wedding night? She shivered at the thought of it.

Thankfully, it never happened as the Emperor walked into her quarters that night unaccompanied. The chambers they had prepared for her bore Prajan design and interior, making her feel more at ease. Did her husband think of this too, to make her feel at home?

"Gianita?" He dismissed the servant with a hand gesture, and for the first time, they were entirely alone. "I hope the temperature is warm enough to your liking. I heard the heat is high back in your homeland."

"Yes, Your Majesty," she answered fluently in Anglese, the common western tongue. "It is my birth name, though my family calls me Gigi... And thank you, it is quite comfortable."

Just because she came from a hot climate does not mean she liked the heat.

"I should say this first and foremost, Gianita, tonight shall be the first and last night that we spend together. I do not intend to produce heirs by this marriage. The Prince shall always be my heir, even though you're the Empress."

Gigi shot her gaze up at him, frozen in shock.

"Now this might sound harsh, but I am not ashamed to tell you that my son is my life. I don't care what people say about it, he's everything to me. You'd know that if you've had one of your own."

Didn't he just say that he would rather not have children from her? This bastard.

"Then why keep me, Sire, if I am of no use to you? It's obvious that you do not intend to add any more members to the imperial family besides yourself and the Prince, so why marry me?"

"I believe you know as well as I do, that women are capable of so much more than being birthing machines. Praja has reached the peak of its trading in the east; once they expand to the west with Angletonia as a partner, nothing can stand between them and glory. I believe it is more to your interest to ensure the growth of your home country?"

That was an oddly nice thing to say, though spoken with fluent arrogance. She couldn't decide how she felt about it. He wanted to gain influence in the east under her name, is that it?

"So we wouldn't be a real husband and wife," she concluded, failing to mask the distress in her voice. Gigi turned her stare at the wall, holding back the tears of humiliation. Her biggest fear was coming to life. She didn't know which was more upsetting; thinking that she was sent here to become his wife, only to find out that she was a means to an end.

An unconsummated royal marriage could lead to annulment, and her father made his instructions specifically clear.

"I never said that. I am well aware of my obligations, and what was expected of you. That is if you're willing."

"...I will," she echoed. Their first and last night together. Never once had she envisioned a scenario where her husband would perform their wedding night out of pity.

"Don't worry, Gianita, I would not let them place the blame on you."

There was a pregnant silence in the room, she could hear every drop of wine that he poured into a glass.

"Take the wine, it'll make things easier."

A little bit of alcohol could ease her body into feeling less pain, although no pain could compare to the one currently presiding in her heart, and she wanted that gone. It was improper to drink alcoholic beverages in Praja, especially for a princess. But now, she was the Empress of Angletonia.

She downed the glass.

"May I?" he asked, his hands cradled her face as if holding a rose.

With a low-spirited nod, she leaned in.

Their second kiss was like fire; it danced and ignited, smouldering through her face and her body leaving her panting and puffing, clinging onto the collar of his suit. With his tongue trailing along her lower lip, she pressed herself to him, parting her mouth to taste him better. As though she was getting drunk from his taste and scent, and not the wine. Her mind grew hazy, her percipience lost amidst the incessant kissing.

If only he hadn't ruined the entire night with his speech, she might allow herself to feel something in that kiss.

They broke the kiss so he could undo a series of buttons on the back of her bodice. Her headpieces had been taken off by the maids, so it only took a few swift moves to let her long black hair fall over her shoulder. Shedding the lace outerwear, he quickly slipped her skirt off, leaving her in an underskirt and bustier.

"Lay back," he whispered and she complied like a good girl, laying on the dark burgundy sheets. Still a bit lightheaded from the kiss, she held herself back from stealing glances at the Emperor as he undressed, though it ended in vain.

As he hovered above her, Gigi used the opportunity to gaze upon him as much as she could. They were both exposed, so there was no reason she should be the one getting embarrassed. Finally, she loosened her remaining pieces of clothing, baring herself under his gaze.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he breathed, taking the sight of her in. His voice was raw and genuine and it boosted her courage, her cheeks gleaming a vivid rosy tint. She was going to spend her first time with a beautiful man—her own husband—and as much as she hated herself to admit it now, she wanted this to happen. There was still a twinge of sadness; if only he hadn't announced that lying with her was an act of charity... Because she would've given herself to him regardless, readily and wholeheartedly.

This time she took the liberty of cupping his face, bringing his mouth back upon hers, entangling her fingers in his dark locks. He hummed an approval in her ear, so she let her hands roam over his shoulders, chest and abdomen. Her sighs turned into whimpers as he nibbled down her neck, arching into him as he sucked and licked on her breasts.

If he never intended to build an intimacy between them, then why was he being so gentle? Why did his touches have to be so warm?

His hand snaked in between her legs, coaxing her thighs to open before diving into her core, reducing her into a chain of messy sobs. Was it supposed to go this way? Were they doing it correctly? She was never taught beyond the means of procreation and had no idea how... but he made it feel strangely good down there. Every brush of his fingers brought a peculiar sensation, each of them felt entirely new and exciting.

Only when he settled between her legs did it finally make sense. He entered her inch by inch as she held onto his back. She was expecting pain, but all she got was a slight discomfort as she adjusted to his size.

So that's what they meant by being 'good in bed'.

Then he moved, and everything became a blur. She indulged herself by holding him down for more intimate kisses, legs secured around his waist. But he went harder, deeper, and she could no longer hold back the sounds of pleasure that were coming from her lips.

Something was building inside her. She could feel it pooling in her stomach as it started to tighten, and released with a delicious gasp.

He followed after, as his body stiffened before slowly softening inside of her.

Gigi panted, arms limply resting upon her husband's figure for comfort. Her fingers sought to bury themselves in his hair once more, but they were soon left empty as the Emperor rolled off her and sat up in bed.

What?

Putting his clothes back on, he quickly zipped up his pants before walking out of their chambers.

"Has Junior been tucked in bed safely?" She heard him asking a servant.

Gigi's eyes were set on her husband's back as she watched in disbelief how he walked away from her right after consummating their marriage, clutching the blanket over her chest.

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.