Irakly wanted to have a fine appearance, as many humans do. Goodness, even many insects were known for grooming. He felt no shame in spending a few moments indulging in his vanity, dressing up and such. After all, he was meant to visit his wife soon, and he wanted to have her full attention.
He chose a long tunic of a pale yellow color. Black lotus flowers and little red circles between each bloom had been stitched in that fabric. His fitted sleeves, neckline, and hemline all had thick white borders with blue stars. He put on recently knitted black stockings with barely ever worn blue velvet shoes. He tied his hair back into a looped braid and put on one of his more elegant caps, a blue one with a partially upturned brim and a little white feather.
Aside from a short chain of silver over his neck and a golden ring on a finger, he had no jewelry. There was little need to burden one's movement with too many of those pretty things. His Majesty spent more time plucking away unwanted hairs on his face than picking those things out.
When he was certain that he was a refreshing sight, he gave his perfumes a little sweep with his eyes and decided against all of them. Then he rose and told his boy attendants that once he was at the Empress Consort's door, he wasn't meant to be followed anymore.
Once he was inside that woman's bedchamber, assuming he was now alone with her, he tried to confirm that fact. At that point, the only person he'd noticed was himself.
He stepped onto a fur rug and looked over to the bed, which had its canopy curtains shut. If Rahela wasn't there, then she must've been playing a trick on him.
And Rahela was too old for mischief. Hadn't she firmly declared that once before?
The Emperor stepped over to the bed and used two fingertips to nudge some of the hanging cloth aside. He was able to peek at one of her bare feet before he decided to withdraw. A vague hint of bacon with a pinch of earth was hiding in the little space. He'd had a little whiff of it. His chest swelled at it. Something else nearly swelled too.
His voice low, Irakly gave his notice. "Little Empress, I'm coming."
He didn't even hear movement in the bed. For a second he almost wondered if she'd died. When that second was gone he was smirking to himself at the thought, for he had great doubt. That woman was difficult to kill.
Parting the curtains, the Emperor climbed into the bed. He didn't even take off his shoes, as he normally might do. He was too excited.
He landed close to the little woman, putting a bounce in the mattress, and he impatiently patted the back of one of her shoulders with a happy whisper or two.
Rahela pushed her body an inch or so away. Then, her hair falling with a nearly liquid flow, she pushed herself into a sitting position. A hand of hers pressed into the mattress as her torso twisted. Her blue and green eyes were partially hidden by heavy eyelids and pale lashes. Her darling little nose and cheeks were smooth, and Irakly wanted to assume a blush was there, but the lack of light brought uncertainty.
His eyes dragged away from the soft face and down the tender figure. Even the white chemise that was gathering around her knees and thighs was pretty.
Painfully and quickly, the Emperor's brow furrowed.
By this time ...
He'd expected ...
A belly heavy with child.
Yet here was a svelte creature. She might've even lost some weight.
He sat up too, so harshly that some of his joints popped.
Rahela closed her eyes, turned her head away, then lowered it. Her body moved as if she'd sighed, but Irakly heard nothing.
He gave a sigh that he knew she heard.
"The nursery," he quietly and soberly murmured, "must be empty and cold."
The woman's lips flickered, and then she replied, "Yes My Lord."
Two of his fingernails scratched at a blanket. "How long ago?"
"Some months."
The Emperor had nothing else to say, not because he had no thoughts. He simply knew there was nothing he could say to hearten the woman. There was no comfort. There was no joy. There was only the forever gnawing truth. That child was gone.
Yet here his wife was, only in her chemise, alone with him because of her request.
She must've wanted another attempt. Of course she would. She might even be desperate. One could argue that her life would depend on this.
But this news was still fresh in his mind, a new wound that stung and could fester if not treated promptly.
Irakly put a hand around one of her delicate little arms, below the elbow. The skin was warm and delightful, but there was only so much an intriguing beauty could do for him at this time.
"Wait, Little Bacon."
Rahela pulled her arm out of his light grasp. Her eyelids turned sharper and even formed a hateful expression. Still, the rest of her face was smooth. Before she could move her body away, and Irakly was certain her next movements indicated that, he wrapped an arm over her ribs and pulled her close to his torso. Her breath was a bit louder here. He heard her angry little puff of air. It was one of the most elitist noises he'd ever heard her make, and it was cute.
Using his free hand to pet her tousled head, the Emperor said, "I'm rejecting your advances. I won't reject you. Now rest with me for some moments. We can find a diversion after we've cooled our minds."
She huffed again, but she said nothing when he led her back down onto the mattress. He had to blow some of her hair out of his face. He slowly took in the bacon scent. He imagined it could lull him to sleep.
All his pompous dressing up, and what was he doing about it? He was lounging in a bed with absolutely no more intentions of impressing his wife. If anything, he'd done the opposite. She was quite sour with him.
But that was all acceptable, because he thought he could still impress her in other ways.
After some more time, the Emperor told his wife to dress herself, and he didn't mind personally assisting her. It was charming in its way. Finding the prettiest garments to fit the lovely little body was almost like a game. Deciding on which pieces of jewelry she should wear was an almost childish task. Pretty thing here. Shiny thing there.
Oooooh, one necklace in particular looked darling! It had sections of complex chains with strings of pearls and polished red rubies!
Combing Rahela's hair was the most amusing task. For one, Rahela's hair was still as glorious as it had always been, soft and thick. And for two, that poor Empress' face turned such a dark and embarrassed shade of pink that Irakly chuckled to see it. He stood behind her as she sat at a table loaded with personal items.
He held her hair by the ends and detangled that first. Then he focused on the main length and scalp. Every little sigh that woman made sounded reluctant and sweet. Every little twitch of her arms and wince in her face proved there was something lurking in her mind, something almost happy.
Irakly watched as Rahela arranged her hair into long plaits and wrapped them with pretty black ribbons. Each ribbon had thin silver borders. Once a plait was secure, pure impulse drove him to pierce a random section with a brooch. That made Rahela almost roll her eyes, or that's what the Emperor assumed the shaking little jerk in those eyeballs and lids meant.
As Rahela pinned a small cap on her head, the Emperor looked through one of her many chests to pick out a pretty veil. Most were white but some had color to them. He ended up picking a white, rectangular one with thick borders of gold on the edges. Those borders also had a black diapered pattern, somewhat thick outlines of high quality threads. He carefully laid it over her head, then tugged it this way and that to arrange it in a more flattering angle. By the time he was pinning that veil on, the fabric draped back just past her shoulders.
"You don't need to wear a headdress," Irakly said as he patted the top of her covered head. She winced at that gesture, all while he lightly smiled. Then he abruptly said, "Ah, I've brought treasures. I'm certain you know my campaign was successful."
"Will Your Majesty present them at the next feast?" the woman asked as she put her hand in her lap almost as if she was beginning to relax. Irakly knew better than that, however. It wouldn't be the first time he'd shown a gift off in front of so many people.
"There's so many that I feel I should turn them into spectacles." He picked up a little jar of light rouge from one of the Empress' tables, then he slid a little jar of water close by. "Pant your lips and cheeks, Little Bacon. You need some fresh patches of cheer."
***
The first gift the Emperor showed off to the massive number of guests in the dining hall. A light meal had already been served, and there had been a set of dancing too. Now, while it was still early in the evening, the Emperor had everyone hushed in their sheets and admiring his display of wealth and conquest.
Tallow from far off animals and oils from exotic plants had been used for making lovely soaps of various colors, shapes, and sizes. These soaps were in two different boxes, each one had been opened with some of the contents held up for viewing. Then the boxes were each given to Princess Tuya and Empress Consort Rahela.
Silks that had been painted and or embroidered with lovely patterns were held up for the guests to applaud. These too were divided in half and distributed to that princess and empress again. Previously, the Emperor had personally inspected each bolt and decided which ones were the highest quality and most beautiful, because those bolts had to go to his wife.
Strange new fruits that couldn't be kept fresh had been made into preserves in dainty jars. These would be locked away in special locations in the kitchens. The fruits that could be kept fresh were held out for the princess and empress to stare at and look forward to tasting.
Cases of rare and newly learned of gemstones were given a taste of firelight so they could glimmer.
Peculiar and interesting little statues of precious metal and marble were carried in for everyone's eyes.
Even jewelry that looked to have been part of a foreign religious figure's wardrobe was included in these treasures.
The Emperor was pleased to have shown everyone these lovely gifts.
Yet he found himself secretly cursing his own foolishness.
