Responsibility Ch. 17

Author's Note: The Emperor has to be fabulous too. He needs his costume porn! Also, this is a long chapter. Sorry about that.

***

Pale orange, pink, red and white roses were hung from the ceiling or kept in vases. They weren't the only types of flowers. There were also yellow and light purple crocuses, copper and coral peonies, allium blooms in every known color, and lilies of the valley. All these flowers put little hints of sweetness in the air, which mixed in with the light smoke from the candles.

Sitting in an arrangement not unlike the expectation for an Imperial Court meeting, honored guests in their splendid attire waited. Some of them looked slightly different, since they were from different parts of the Empire or even the world. One of the men had a turban with many jewels and cloud-like white feathers, plus a lovely golden robe with a purple sash. The boy attendants near him were in similar garb. They all had somewhat darker complexions than most of the men there, not that such a thing was a problem.

The only true problem was the height and width of some women's headdresses. Some people had to move their chairs just to get a proper view, which meant that other people had to move too because their space had been taken. Similar things had happened at court meetings, but it was more obvious here.

Important servants, musicians, and all other kinds of employees were in the throne room, each one either standing by or moving to keep things running well.

Princess Tuya and company, and the Empress Dowager and company, all stood near the throne, waiting. They were all in some of the best clothes and accessories they had. Even the little maids-in-waiting had broad headdresses. Their girlish braids even had a few bejeweled pins.

Their young little faces were haughty. They were still too young to know how to hide their egos in such a situation. It was as if they'd forgotten that they weren't the only ones looking important. For example, their mistresses each had little crowns on their heads, tucked into their own headdresses.

The little girls would remember their places soon.

Horns, drums, and bagpipes were suddenly played in a short, announcing tune. In the center, from the main doors, the Emperor arrived. A few steps behind him, each holding a box plated in gold, were his squires. To his right, tiny Rokas Butkus was trying not to cry. Honestly, the poor little child's face was pink. His eyes were wet. And he was sniffing. Borys was to the Emperor's left. He had a tired expression, but otherwise he seemed capable.

The Emperor was wearing a long gown with sleeves that fell a significant length past his hands. There was even a wing-like shape, not unlike the Testoan sleeves Rahela had worn on formal occasions before. The warm weather didn't matter. He was clearly flaunting his prosperity and power.

The gown was in a base of black, the deepest black. There was lush embroidery, which would've taken a very long time to complete. Costly indigo threads, outlined by gold, formed flowers and fruits. Silver wolves were chasing silver rabbits. Little red rubies, white pearls, and various spangles were sewn in as little bursts of extra color. The animals' eyes, a flower's stamen, a geometric border, those sorts of things.

A heavy belt of golden squares and large jewels was around his waist. Attached to that belt, there was a sword with a bejeweled handle and similarly encrusted sheath. His fingers, even a thumb, had what were likely the largest and most boastful rings in the whole room.

There were three necklaces. The first one was made of large, golden ovals and rectangles, each one with a few tiny and glittery stones in a seemingly random arrangement. Between each shape, there were larger stones. It might've had eighteen inches. The second necklace could've have around twenty-four inches. It was a complex chain of silver and gold links with many different angles. Some would've called it a birdcage chain. The third necklace might've had thirty inches, and it was a combination of things. Sections of birdcage chains like the previous necklace, sections of large stones set in precious metals, and sections of simple but costly and large beads. There were even three pendants of pearl clusters and dangling spangle chains.

Over his shoulders, held up behind him by a handful of servants, there was the famous indigo cape with the ermine lining and Yahsin Imperial Family's crest. His hair was smoothly braided with little gems pinned in, similar to those little maids-in-waiting. On the top of his head, there was a large crown. Hefty gold, massive stones that sparkled, points that ended with pearls, it looked as if one needed excellent strength in the neck to bear the weight of that crown. It also looked fairly old, but well cared for and still beautiful.

One of his hands held his golden scepter close to his body. He didn't wave it about. The musician's drums seemed to match his feet as he slowly marched down the rug. His shoes were gold with black velvet bows and round pearls.

The procession halted some distance from the platform bearing the throne. Then, carefully, they all had to turn around and move ahead a bit. The servants had to keep the cloak from twisting.

The music stopped.

From a door on one side of the room, a new man entered.

The music started again, but this time it was a little tune with flutes.

He was a priest from the largest river god temple in Yahsin. Two of his apprentices kept near him. The priest had a tall hat with fine silk patches in vertical rows. His gown had a pattern of silver and white that resembled flowing water. He quietly walked over to the throne and stood in a spot behind the Emperor's cloak.

Again, the music stopped.

The Emperor's arm outstretched, palm up. It was the arm holding the scepter. He pointed the orb at the tall doors in the back. Then he let the long handle slide down his grasp as he changed his arm's angle, putting the scepter in a vertical position. He tapped the rug with the scepter's end. It wasn't a very loud noise.

Those doors were opened again.

Horns, flutes, drums, lyres, tambourines. Slow but triumphant music.

The bride.

She was even slower than the Emperor had been, a cautious march, a prudent march.

Carrying a wooden box, Yana was on her right. Oksana was on her left. A little bit behind, there was Princess and Maid-in-Waiting Gabriella. That little girl was the only one wearing Testoan clothing. She looked so fragile and adorable with her long ribbon plaits and almost frightened expression. She likely thought she was in a fairy tale.

And the bride was like a fairy.

She moved with elegant purpose, likely with no vulgar thoughts, but her body was so delightfully womanly. She'd gained enough weight. She was back to her normal, pleasant figure. Her smaller waist enhanced the wider curves of her hips. Her bosom's shape, while adequately covered, was still eye-catching. She was holding a tiny bouquet of white roses at her belly. Her pale hands were clean and well groomed, the rings making them seem even smaller. Her arms were only just slender enough.

Her face was sad.

Her plump and pink lips were almost frowning. Her colorful eyes were downcast. There were a few faint lines in her brow and her nostrils were quivered every few seconds or so. It was as if the bride wanted to fall to the floor and weep.

She was the brightest star. The elegant little canvas that had been turned into a piece of art. The beautiful maiden dressed in the most honorable and ostentatious clothing and jewels. The bride that would soon have each piece of finery plucked and shucked away, bit by bit.

Perhaps one would think she was purposely trying to be solemn, or maybe one would think she was emotionally overwhelmed and wanted to cry from pure joy.

However, there was the idea that Princess Rahela was terribly uncomfortable in many ways, and she might even hate all the physical and metaphorical weight placed on her body.

Whatever the reason, by the time Rahela was halfway down the throne room's wide aisle, she'd seemed to calm her nerves enough to merely pout like an upset child.

At first, as the Emperor watched his bride march down the aisle, his eyes were ignited with lust. But then, as the little woman moved forward, something else mixed in with his feelings.

She was just ...

She was so cute! She was like a sad little baby puppy! She was a soft, whimpering little puppy with pale blonde fur and big, pretty eyes! She was the most darling little thing on this planet and the Emperor knew he had to appreciate that!

He almost grinned.

But something hid away any desire to grin.

It had the musicians stopping.

It even startled Princess Rahela and her retinue to halt and gawk at the scene.

Before everyone's eyes, at the Emperor's long awaited wedding, that little Rokas Butkus stomped a foot and started wailing. His young cry echoed all around. He ran across the Emperor's and the Princess' path. Then he grabbed at Borys' formal, silver studded belt. The Emperor was certain he was still angry over some argument he had with Borys beforehand.

Some of the guests dared to let themselves laugh into their palms and fists. Some of the guests rolled their eyes. The Emperor looked back to his bride's face. There was still a sadness clouding over her features, but her eyes were more alert and she was clearly astounded.

Resisting his urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, the Emperor grumbled down to Borys, "Teach him. He must learn."

After an understanding nod, Borys did what he'd been taught to do. He wrenched the smaller boy's hands away. Then he gave a very rigid, "No."

Rokas Butkus let out a high pitched scream and started wallowing on the floor. He kicked. He flailed. He seemed to rip part of his extravagant clothing, which had been strenuously and tediously designed and created over a long period of time.

That was when the Emperor gave in. He put his fingers on his nose, tilted his head down, and pinched with a rough sigh.

When he finally looked back up a little, Borys had Rokas in a somewhat upright position, holding him by an arm. Then, no words leaving him, Borys gave Rokas' backside several fierce blows with him palm. Rokas cried out at each blow, but when Borys stopped and let him go, that little boy finally hushed. Borys then grabbed his sleeve and practically dragged him back to his previous position. Then Borys went back to his own position.

Aside from Rokas' sniffling, the wedding continued. The music too.

The bride approached. Yana moved in a bit closer and knelt down, holding out the box she had. The music stopped, but only because it was supposed to. A servant opened the box and revealed the contents. Little soap sculptures. Arugula and beetroots on platters. They smelled so exciting. The Emperor personally picked one up nodded. Then he put it back in the box. The servant took the box and went off to put it away in the Emperor's bedchamber. Yana got to her feet and went back to her mistress.

One of the Emperor's squires bowed a bit and held his gold box out to be opened. A servant opened it. Rahela handed her bouquet over to Oksana and reached into the box.

Inside, there were several bars of soap cut from a loaf, with a gentle and floral fragrance. The basic rectangle shape of each bar had layers of black and white with thinner layers of sparkling bronze glitter dividing them. This pattern was broken by little embeds that mimicked cut gemstones. Above the rectangle shape was a high top. It was made with a basic piping technique, shimmery pale blue and green colors in a pyramid of swirling shapes. Each little pyramid had an additional gift. A faceted stone, a rare variety of sapphire had been pressed into the soap while it was still wet. Each stone had a gradient of colors, shades of orange and pink and every color related to that.

Princess Rahela's eyebrows flew up for only a second or more as she held a bar up. Then she gave a light bow and put the bar back in the box. A servant took the box to be put in her bedchamber. Rahela took her bouquet back into her dainty little hands.

The couple took new positions, facing each other before the priest. The priest then spoke. It was a technically a lecture. Unity, loyalty, peace, and honor. Those sorts of things were promoted. The Emperor's brain only glossed over his words. They weren't very interesting to him. What was interesting was how Princess Rahela's breathing had her chest rising and falling so evenly. Another interesting thing was how her lower lip quivered by only a trace at certain points.

After a time, the priest finished his speech and said he needed the ritual soap and the bowl of water. One of his apprentices handed him a tray with two bars of plain soap and a towel. Actually, the color was plain. The shapes were roughly like fish wrapped in nets and pearls. The other apprentice held out a tray with a bowl of water. The bowl was silver plated with decorative glass and crystal.

With the priest's instructions to guide them, the couple had to wash their hands. Borys helped the Emperor pin his sleeves back and put his rings aside, on the same tray with the bowl. Gabriella did the same with Rahela, although less fabric had to be kept away. The Emperor washed his hands first. He dried his hands with the towel. Rahela imitated him. Then, their rings were returned to their assigned fingers and their sleeves were freed.

The couple hand to remain standing as the priest said a little prayer. Then he gave a bow and said the coronation should begin now. The other golden box a squire had, it was opened, and the Emperor himself used both hands to lift a crown up from inside. It might've been slightly smaller than the Emperor's crown, but there were enough similarities to prove that it was indeed meant to be the consort's symbol.

Gingerly, he held the crown over Rahela's already well adorned head. Yana gently moved the flaps in the headdress to make it easier. The Emperor slid most of the crown through and lowered it. Once that was done, a handful of even more servants entered the room. They had a second cloak. It was long and black with gold and silver colors. The lining and trimming was the beloved ermine fur. Those servants helped to put this cloak over Princess Rahela's shoulders.

The Emperor took Rahela's hand, and they faced the audience. Polite applause greeted them. Then music followed them as they marched down the aisle.

***

The crowns and cloaks were removed before the feast began in the dining hall.

It was a room ready for the grandest of celebrations. Temporary panels of painted wood had been attached to some sections of the walls. They had lovely images of people, animals, forests, mountains, and even ships at sea. Floral and cloth garlands were hung around. So were banners and flags.

The new Empress Consort Rahela sat down beside her husband for the first time in this hall. She was reserved, barely ever speaking a word, almost never meeting anyone's eyes. No perfume could be found on her. The Emperor couldn't even smell her bacon scented hair, which made sense. It was all wrapped away and covered.

First, food was served. It had to be. Nobody wanted to be hungry and waiting during the gift showing. Spicy pheasant. Bread made from grape must. Little slices of cheesecake topped with fresh fruits. And lightly flavored water.

Empress Rahela seemed to make very earnest attempts to eat with a fork.

Well ... they were attempts. Sometimes she gave up and went back to her favored spoon and knife combination. Then, after a time, she'd try with the fork again.

After that, it was time for the gifts. It was a long process. All kinds of things were presented to the new couple, along with soaps. Bolts of brocade fabric. Fine hairpins of precious materials. Alcohol. Well kept cheeses. Even some foreign animals. One person brought a cage full of bright parrots and another brought a cage of monkeys. The Emperor said these would be fine additions to his menagerie, but his bride didn't express much interest in such a thing. In fact, she'd never visited that place.

There was one gift the Empress Consort did show some interest in, although she remained restrained and dignified as she did so. It was a wide but shallow chest from the turban wearing guest.

That was one of the princes of Tashkila.

The servant holding the chest warned that the contents were dangerous, and shouldn't be brought to anyone's table. So, Empress Rahela rose. She told her girl attendants to stay behind. Quiet, holding the attention of everyone, the hanging beads on her headdress rattling just enough, she walked around the great table and stepped down to the main floor. She put a handkerchief to her nose and mouth, and she watched as the lid was opened.

Her vivid eyes seemed to flash as she backed away and told the servant to close the chest. Then she announced to everyone, "It's a very deadly sort of fungus, although it's dry and shriveled. It will be absolutely fascinating to study. In fact, there's a compartment with a thin scroll. Could that be an informative text?"

The servant confirmed it.

"How kind and personal this gift is," Empress Rahela said, although her eyes hardened. "I've not been gifted with enviable intelligence, but I do love studying these things." She then went back to her seat beside her husband. Meanwhile, the case of fungus was put away and the Tashkilan prince's gift for the Emperor was shown off. It wasn't anything particularly fascinating, only some packages of exotic spices.

That moment before, that gift to the Empress Consort, it was still notable. Someone had just calmly given someone else poison. Under normal circumstances, that would be considered so peculiar or even insulting.

But Princess Rahela was also peculiar, and maybe even insulting, depending on one's perspective.

And to be given such a gift from a Tashkilan prince ...?

Another course of food. Shrimp cakes with a little salad. Vegetables that had been fried in batter. Sardines in a tangy sauce. Dumplings in gravy. A beverage of wine mixed with almond cream.

Then music and dancing. The first set would be left for the couple alone. For a minute, the performance was somber. The Emperor had a calm expression. The Empress was looking sad again. Suddenly, after they bowed to each other, the music changed. It was jaunty. The Empress was lagging. She couldn't keep up with all the movements. Her brow was wrinkling. Her jewelry clanged.

As if wanting to show mercy, or perhaps wanting an acceptable level of naughtiness, the Emperor surprised everyone. Ignoring the correct steps of the dance, he hastily took his bride's waist and twirled around. The young Empress's fingers clawed on his arms and her face quickly changed from sad to frightened. When the Emperor finally stopped and put the woman back down, she leaned into him, probably because she was dizzy.

Her long veil, jewels and all, had wrapped around them both. Laughing, the Emperor peeled and untangled the accessories. Then he led Rahela back up to their seats.

The guests took their turns dancing. It was a loud, dynamic scene. The couple could've joined in, but this Empress Consort was still looking unbalanced and uncertain. She did, however, let her ladies-in-waiting and little maid-in-waiting go down to dance. The same permission was granted to the Emperor's boys, except for grumpy little Rokas. Princess Gabriella smiled the most when she had Borys as a partner.

The Empress Dowager and Princess Tuya had their turns too. Quite a few men wanted to dance with that princess. She was a highly valued candidate for marriage.

Some time later, more food. Spit-roasted goose. Soft bread and well seasoned chickpeas. A creamy, sweet polenta made of millet and wheat and drizzled with honey and fruit juices. Ale that had been slightly watered down and mixed with certain herbs.