The Serpent's Enigma

2 | The Art of Getting By

In the morning, there were no signs of the Emperor. Even the night had washed away the smell of his perfume in the sheets, the only remainder of his presence was the soreness between her legs. Thwarted, Gigi summoned her handmaidens to prepare her for breakfast in a new set of wardrobes readied for her by the imperial household.

Later, she learned that her husband had gone to his son after their wedding night and that they had been sleeping in the same bed ever since he was an infant. Quite peculiar, since royal children would properly be raised in the nursery, and at seven years old, the kid should've had his own bedroom.

The Emperor and the Prince also shared the same name; Cal. Only their middle names were different, Cal Raedan Leroy for the Emperor, and Cal Velius Leroy for the young Prince. Prajan kings rarely bore the same given names, but monarchies in the western world were big on hereditary names. Cal was a shortened version of Callisto, the name of the previous Emperor.

As she got down to the dining room, she saw the Emperor and his son already starting their breakfast. Awkwardly, she took a seat across from him, hoping that she wasn't too late. Although she was well-versed in Angletonian manners, it was her first time to put them into practice. Strangely, neither of them bothered to scold nor call her out on it. She wasn't sure whether she should be comforted or offended by it, as they were acting like she wasn't there.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she greeted.

The Emperor stopped eating, for a short moment his eyes were fixated upon her person. Gigi fidgeted under the table, fearing that she was dressed inappropriately. "Morning," he replied flatly, shifting his focus back on his plate.

"I... trust you slept?" she clutched her napkins tightly as one of the footmen placed them upon her lap.

Her husband spared her a brief glance. "I did. I suppose you did, too. In fact, you needn't bother to come downstairs. As a married woman you have the privilege to enjoy your breakfast in bed."

It sounded like he didn't want her to be here with him. "...I'd rather have my breakfast with you, Sire."

There was no reply, and Gigi smoothened her napkins once more. Truthfully, she could barely get herself to sleep last night. But figuring he was least likely to care, she'd rather keep it to herself. She contemplated if there were other safe topics to discuss, but she wasn't good at small talk and certainly wasn't one to initiate conversations. Perhaps, it was better to just eat her food in silence.

Anglese food was one of the most commonly served foreign food during royal banquets, so Gigi was thankful she wouldn't have to struggle to get used to them.

"Why are you singling out the veggies, Junior? I thought you liked veggies," chirped the Emperor, in a completely different tone of voice than he had used with her.

"These cuts are too big, even the monsters of the deep would have trouble swallowing them." The Prince pursed his lips, making his cherubic face looked rounder than usual. There were chunks of carrots and tomatoes piling on the edge of his plate, where he kept prodding it with his fork.

"Let me cut them up for you," he chuckled, leaning towards his son. He swiftly sliced the vegetables into smaller pieces before presenting them back to his son. "There, better?"

"Much." The Prince batted his long-lashed eyes.

In silence, Gigi discerned another distinctive feature that set them apart from one another. The Prince's eyes were dark, like the deepest shade of a stormy sky, unlike his father's russet brown.

So soon after breakfast, the Emperor was already off to any business with the government that he was having that day, foiling any effort she attempted for a conversation, while the Prince attended his daily classes.