Cal Junior stood there, jaw dropped. He knew what those words meant in Prajan.
"...Excuse me?"
"Will you marry me?" Aravin repeated, reaching his hand out toward Junior.
Frowning, Junior looked like he was going to respond at first but instead, he turned toward the Empress. "Gigi, who is he?"
Gigi, completely taken aback by what his brother said, eventually got a hold of herself. "Erm... he's my brother. Your father invited him to stay over for the summer. I'm sorry, he seems a little bit excited to see you. He can only speak Prajan for now, but I can teach him Anglese as he stays."
Turning his gaze back towards the other boy, Junior held his chin up and gave him the 'business' look he'd always used in public. "Pleasure," he said pompously.
***
The sole Heir of Angletonia wasn't expecting the other Prince to continue his pursuit at dinner. As he sat by his father's side, Aravin continued to stare at him with a pair of goo-goo eyes. Sighing, he diverted his attention by gazing down on his appetizer.
Although Gigi was thankful that her brother wasn't being rude to her husband, this was entirely new and left her unprepared. Who would have known that Aravin would develop a crush on Junior?
"You know, you won't have to prepare two kinds of meals, Gi. Junior and I would be content with dining over a Prajan meal, right Junior?" Cal grinned. "As long as there's ca-roo-puk, of course."
"...Right," answered Junior, still averting his gaze from Aravin's.
"Alright. I will ask the servants to prepare only one set of dishes tomorrow." Gigi smiled. "But I think my brother could also try Angletonian food every once in a while."
"It's good that you now have a friend around your age. You can have someone to play with! I heard that you've been spending a lot of time outside lately."
"Oh... that." Junior scratched the back of his neck.
"You... like staying here...?" Cal asked, trying to speak in simple Prajan. He only knew some really basic words.
"I love Angletonia!" Aravin exclaimed; completely forgetting the animosity he harboured for the Emperor, wiggling his brows at Junior. Gigi was a total loss for words.
Junior squeaked, sneaking under his father's arm. A gesture which he would normally only make when he was scared, which was rare.
The prince just threw away his pride.
"Junior? Baby, what's wrong?" Cal stroked his son's back, as Gigi looked at both boys with concern.
"Your Majesty," the butler suddenly came in with a piece of paper, interfering with their little affair. "I received a response from the phone call you asked me to make to Dr. Jaeyr. She said that her appointments for this week were full, but for you, she was willing to make an exception."
Taking the piece of paper from his hand, the Emperor thanked him before he was dismissed.
"Doctor? Why are you seeing a doctor? Are you sick, Sire...?" asked Gigi, feeling a bit worried. How could she not notice him feeling unwell? And he had to speak to someone other than their private physician?
Looking up from the message, Cal smiled at her weakly. "Not physically, Gi. I need to get better for us, remember?"
Giving him a perplexed look, Gigi failed to catch the meaning of his words. Then her eyes lit up, hand raised over her mouth, preventing her from letting out a surprised 'Oh!'.
"I—beg your pardon, Sire. I didn't think— I've never heard of such treatments before. Maybe in books, but very little," she stuttered in panic. "Please don't feel like you have to undergo anything because of me."
Cal chuckled. "Because of you? No, it is for all of us; especially for me. Dr. Jaeyr has helped me before, she can help me again. What she's doing for me is good, so don't feel guilty about it. You're helping me to heal as a whole."
"She's not—gonna stick a needle through your brain, isn't she?"
"Gosh, no," replied Cal, staggered. "What kind of books have you been reading, Gi?"
Gigi threw him a bashful smile. "Perhaps, the wrong ones."
***
"So, he will be taking some treatments to get him better. He's willing to do it so I won't have to stay away from him again." Gigi happily told her handmaidens as they prepared her for bed.
"What are 'therapeutic treatments'?" asked Gita Dewi.
"It must be some sort of special medications that the doctor does to heal him," replied Gita Dian.
"Special treatments from a doctor? Like... asylum?" Gita Citra gasped.
"No!" denied Gigi. "They're different!"
"Doesn't that mean the Emperor is...?" whispered Gita Shinta, twisting a finger beside her head.
"How dare you!" Gigi snarled, abruptly rose from her chair. "I know that I've never scolded you before, but this is where I'd draw the line!" Glaring at her two ladies, she left her dressing room in robes.
Rushing out of the door, she tied the sash of her robe tightly around herself. She knew that those sorts of treatments were unfamiliar and unheard in Prajan ways, but the things they said were completely out of line. She would not just stand there to hear her husband being referred to in such a derogatory way.
But those comments that they made against him made her see how he'd keep everything away from her. What made him so ashamed, afraid she would turn away from him.
Speak of the devil, she caught a glimpse of the man in the balcony, enjoying the night breeze. Quite curious, since there were plenty of balconies in the entire palace, but he came all the way here.
"Sire?" she stepped out to the balcony. "What brings you here?"
The Emperor turned to her with a gentle smile, also dressed in sleepwear. "I wanted to see you before I slept, but I thought you had gone to bed and I didn't want to bother your resting time."
Her hair was blowing gently in the night wind; she tucked it gently behind her ear. "Well, here I am."
Cal had the two top buttons of his shirt undone and Gigi wished she wasn't so eye-level with his chest. "Are you still mad at me?"
Gigi placed her hand over his arm. "When you told me about what you're going through, I found the truth a little hard to grasp. Why would he be hiding all those things from me? What could be so hard about just telling me? But now I see, and I want you to know that I'll always support your decision. I don't care what anybody else says, I believe that you know what's best for yourself."
"Even when a lot of them would advise you against me?"
"Especially when they are against you," she assured.
He let go of the railing, and for a moment Gigi thought that he was leaving, only to feel his arms slowly wrapped around her from behind. Closing her eyes, she rested her head back against his toned chest.
"Tell me something, Gi." He lightly swept her long dark hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck to the chilly air. "Anything."
Gigi took a deep breath. "There's a Prajan local legend about a newlywed who went to the wife's hometown for their honeymoon and was gifted seven antique jars from her parents. They were told to treasure them most ardently. As they were sailing back home, the husband peeked inside the jars, seeing that they only contained pickles. Enraged, he threw them into the sea. As they're throwing away the seventh and last jar, it slipped off their hands and shattered on the wooden floor, revealing a pile of gold underneath the pickles. Ashamed and fueled by greed, the husband jumped into the rapid waters to collect the other jars, and drowned."
"Such a horrible tragedy," Cal looked at her wide-eyed.
"Yes, lots of Prajan tales ended in tragedy," Gigi laughed softly. "What I am trying to say is, Sire, that I'm not going to be like that foolish husband. I won't throw away my treasure just because it looks like pickles."
"You really think I look like a pickle?"
She faced him with a mischievous smile. "You might be a pickle now, but I know there's some gold in you." Poking him in his chest, she didn't forget to note how solid his muscles were. "I know better now, and I'm willing to learn."
"But asking Junior to stop giving me good night kisses for a month is a little bit too much, don't you think?"
"I didn't ask your son," Gigi pursed her lips. "He's doing it of his own will."
Cal cupped her face in his big warm hands. "Will you wait for me?"
"All the time that you need."
"Even if it will take years?" he asked again, needing reassurance.
"Even if it takes forever."
.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.