XI: Part III

[fire-rose17.livejournal.com]

Here is Part III. It's just as short as the other parts, because as you all know, I am a sadist. Seriously, I'm laughing at your pain as we speak.

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So, would you rather he be delivered or taken to go?” Bradley asked, a question that very much sounded as if it should be preceded with, “Would you like fries with that?”

Lelouch blinked, “Um…well…”

“You should have him delivered,” Schneizel suggested. “They’ll clean him up a bit before sending him. It costs a little extra, but it’s a lot better than taking him as is.”

“We’ll even “gift wrap” your purchase,” Bradley added.

Gift wrap? Lelouch had no idea what that would entail, but he could imagine, and he found the idea of it rather frightening. “I’ll take him now.”

“Suit yourself,” Bradley replied with a shrug. With a gesture to Liliana, the girl produced a thick black collar, which Bradley promptly began to tighten onto the slave’s neck. Attached to the band was a length of leather which uncomfortably reminded Lelouch of a dog’s leash.

“He’s all yours now,” Bradley said.

Lucky me.

 

Lelouch felt a bit like he was leading a pony to show. The leash forced the slave to walk several paces in front of him and many people were staring. It wasn’t every day that you saw someone trailing behind a leather clad boy with a leash, even in Valhalla. And he had to continue in this manner all the way to the car. Schneizel had suggested outfitting the slave with a collar before leaving, but Lelouch had declined, pointing out that the tattoo and the reluctantly pocketed receiver would make such an accessory unnecessary.

“But however will people know who he belongs too?” Schneizel asked, voice colored with amusement.

“I don’t care about that,” Lelouch replied tersely. “I just want to go home.”

Schneizel shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Home of course, was good in theory, except when you lived in a palace full of people, particularly curious, often meddlesome parents that had a tendency of swarming when you came through the door.

“Oh Lelouch, he’s wonderful,” Marianne remarked, greeting her son with a hug and a smile. “You should thank your brother for such a generous gift.”

I didn’t ask for this, Lelouch thought sourly. But his mother’s gaze was staring him down, and he couldn’t stand up to the pressure.

“Thank you, Schneizel,” Lelouch said begrudgingly.

“You’re very welcome, Lulu,” Schneizel replied. “Though I must say, I am surprised with your choice. I was certain that you would pick out some cute young girl to attend to your…needs.

“Yes, that surprised me as well,” Marianne remarked. “I never thought you would have gone with a boy. Is this why all of my matchmaking attempts fell through?”

“Mother!” Lelouch cried.

Marianne grinned, “I’m only teasing darling. You shouldn’t take everything quite so seriously.”

Lelouch flushed as his brother and his mother had a little chuckle at his expense.

“Still, regardless of motive, it looks like Lelouch picked a bit of a problem child,” Schneizel remarked. “Apparently he’s prone to the occasional temper tantrum. Lelouch is going to have his work cut out for him.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing that he has his big brother to help him,” Marianne replied lightly. “After all, you did wonders with Kanon.”

Kanon was the first slave that Schneizel had ever purchased, picked up from somewhere in the EU. The first time Lelouch had ever saw him, he had had a fierce look on his face, raw anger sparking in his eyes and giving the impression that he was a bomb that would explode any second. Lelouch, only eight years old at the time, had been terrified of him.

But that was before Schneizel spent three straight days locked in his room with the man. Lelouch wasn’t certain what Schneizel did to Kanon in that time, but by the time his brother had emerged, the slave was following him around like a puppy, a look of utter adoration on his face, despite the visible bruises on his arms and legs. It was the first time Lelouch had comprehended how cruel his brother could be.

Lelouch didn’t intend to allow him anywhere near the Japanese boy.

“I don’t need any help,” Lelouch muttered through gritted teeth.

Schneizel raised an eyebrow, “Well, if you want to do the job yourself, that’s fine, but if you want assistance, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Marianne sighed, “Somehow, I doubt Lelouch is going to change his mind, but it’s a sweet thought. Well boys, this has been entertaining, but I’m afraid I’m late for a meeting with your father. Lulu, we’ll catch up later, yes?”

Lelouch nodded.

“In the meantime, why don’t you take your new little pet to your room? It would be a good idea to get him settled. I’ll talk to Sayoko about fitting him with some proper clothes,” Marianne cast an appraising look at the slave’s skimpy leather outfit. “Obviously he can’t go around in that all the time.”

With a quick peck on Lelouch’s cheek, Marianne made her retreat.

Schneizel glanced at his watch, “I suppose I should get going as well. I have paperwork to file.” But before leaving, he cut his brother a backwards glance, “Lelouch?”

“Yes?”

Schneizel smiled, “Happy birthday.”

Lelouch scowled at his brother’s retreating back. Happy birthday indeed, he thought, glancing down at the leash that was still in his hand. He heaved a sigh, “Well, come on then.”

The boy followed at his urging, compliant and entirely silent. Come to think of it, Lelouch had only heard him speak a total of two words since their meeting. Was that part of his training as well?

“This is my room,” Lelouch explained once they arrived at his door. “I suppose you’ll be sleeping here.” It was the custom for personal slaves to stay in their master’s bedroom in order to be of service at a moments notice.

The boy gave no indication that he had heard Lelouch speak, and for the first time he began to wonder if the slave entirely grasped the English language. He had spoken to Bradley, but that may have been a trained response.

Lelouch gave the leash another tug, mostly because he was afraid the boy wouldn’t move unless he was led. “My bed’s over there,” Lelouch said. “I guess you can take the couch, so uh…make yourself at home, I guess.”

The boy stared at him, reminding Lelouch eerily of one of those Greek statues in museums. Of course, those statues had been naked, but this boy practically was anyway—and he was going to rid himself of that image before it led to…uncomfortable thoughts.

Silence stretched on, until Lelouch finally broke it with an awkward laugh, “I suppose we should get that collar off of you, huh?”

Again, the boy made no response, so Lelouch loosened the straps himself. The boy also made no effort to stop him. He just stood there, looking at Lelouch as if he expected him to do something.

If that was the case, he would be sorely disappointed. Now that the initial shock of the purchase had worn off, Lelouch was at a loss at what his next move should be. It was unusual for him, but then, so was this entire day.

Okay, I have him now, so what do I do with him? He should do something, anything other than stand there stupidly as awkwardness became a tangible presence in the room. So, in an effort to break the ice, Lelouch ended up saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

Immediately, Lelouch felt like kicking himself. Hi, what’s your name? That was the best he could come up with? Not only was it entirely out of context with the situation, but it sounded like a standard greeting from a six year old.

But apparently, it was enough to cause the boy to open his mouth and answer, “You may call me whatever you wish.”

He had been wrong, Lelouch noted with some surprise. The slave’s English was perfect, with only the barest hint of an accent. He must have been schooled in the language at a young age.

“I’m not asking you what I may call you. I’m asking you what your name is. You do have one, don’t you?” Of course, it was entirely possible that he didn’t remember his name, depending on when he had been taken. There was clearly something wrong with Lelouch’s brain today.

The boy nodded, “I have one, or at least, I had one. Lord Bradley said that I lost the right to my name when I was taken. He said that anything I went by in the future was my master’s decision,” the boy smiled, an expression very much at odds with his words. “What do you wish to call me, Master?”

The title stuck in Lelouch’s stomach uncomfortably, although he couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t as if he had never been addressed in such a manner before.

“I don’t want anything other than your name. Your real name, the one you were born with. What is it?” Lelouch asked. Names were important. They defined a person, became a part of your being. Lelouch couldn’t have possibly named him. Such responsibility wasn’t his to bear 

The boy frowned, the faintest hint of confusion in those green, green eyes, before saying very quietly, “My name is Suzaku.”

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And now that I've posted this to the world, it is now fodder for scribblestorm's voice meme if anyone wants it.

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