code_geass ◾ ◾ XI: Part V

Here it it! Definitive proof that I am not a sadist. I actually crossed the 2000 word mark, which is quite the accomplishment for me lately, especially for this fic.

See, not a sadist (although Slavezaku would probably disagree with me).

Warnings for Schneizel. He is living up to his creeper name here.

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Lelouch was far less wary of Suzaku than he probably should have been. He was a prince of Britannia, the nation responsible for ripping Suzaku away from his homeland, his name, and his culture. It was only natural for such actions to breed resentment, and judging by the muscles Bradley had so kindly pointed out on the auction block, Suzaku was well within his power to exact vengeance. Lelouch should have been sleeping with one eye open.

But somehow, Lelouch couldn’t see Suzaku as a threat. He was just too…empty. He barely spoke unless directly spoken to, and even then his responses were short, to the point, and said in the fewest amount of words possible. He never seemed to do anything unless it was an order, and there was something in his eyes that was just…blank. It was as if Suzaku had forced down all emotion, making anything other than the simplest motor functions impossible. Lelouch honestly didn’t believe he was capable of rebelling, not in this state.

Still, Lelouch was cautious. He wasn’t so stupid to rely on something as inexact as instinct. He had been sure to hide a knife under his pillow, and he had an intimate knowledge of pressure points, courtesy of Sayoko. And as for Suzaku’s work, Lelouch didn’t plan on allowing him to handle national secrets any time soon (not that he was actually privy to any. He was far too low on the political totem pole.)

Instead, Suzaku was assigned menial chores, nothing more than a variety of odd jobs, including the aforementioned laundry. There wasn’t much point in him doing these tasks, as the maids had been perfectly capable of such work by themselves, but it kept Suzaku busy and out of the way.

Honestly, what was the point of having a personal slave in the first place?

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It wasn’t until the first time Suzaku found himself lost in the palace that the gravity of being purchased by royalty finally hit him. The place was a labyrinth, with winding marble hallways connecting more floors than Suzaku could count, and lined with room after elaborately decorated room.

Why was a prince with this kind of money browsing at a public auction? The upper class usually had their own dealers showcasing their wares in the privacy of the aristocrats’ own homes. Merchants liked people to believe that they were offering prime merchandise at auction, but really the show was for surplus goods, usually defective in some shape or form. If a merchant couldn’t sell off a slave any other way, they were sent to auction with the hopes that potential buyers would be so dazzled by the outside packaging, they wouldn’t look too closely at what exactly they were purchasing.

It really is a shame that I have to give you away. You are my favorite, after all. But I’m afraid you’re more trouble than you’re worth.

Damn memories, Suzaku thought bitterly. They were popping up far more often than he would have liked. He would have preferred to focus on more important things, such as figuring out where the hell he was.

Before, Sayoko had shown him around. The woman was quiet, but very friendly, and Suzaku had been thrilled to discover someone who spoke his native language. He hadn’t heard it or spoken it in years. But after he had finished his assigned chores, she had gone to pursue her own work, leaving him with the challenge of getting back to Lelouch’s room alone.

If Suzaku remembered correctly, the prince’s room was on the third floor, but other than that, he was at a loss. There were so many corridors to explore and doors to choose from. What did these people need with all this space?

“Are you lost?”

The voice was smooth, cultured, and vaguely familiar. Suzaku turned around slowly, taking in the sight of the Second Prince leaning casually against the wall beside him. His posture spoke of casual interest, but his eyes told a different story. Suzaku knew that look.

“No, my lord,” Suzaku said quietly, making sure to keep his eyes towards the floor. He didn’t want to encourage him. “I was just going back to my master’s room.”

Schneizel raised an eyebrow, “Really? That’s odd. I could have sworn I saw you pass it at least twice.”

Suzaku flushed. Had he really been going around in circles this whole time? Well, it didn’t matter. He had to get out of here. Now.

“I’ve had other work,” Suzaku replied quickly. “I really should be getting ba—”

Without warning, Schneizel’s hand shot out, pushing Suzaku and effectively trapping him against a door. Suzaku let out a small gasp as the doorknob crushed into his spine.

“You’re wasting your time with Lelouch, you know,” Schneizel whispered, breath warm as he pressed his body flush against Suzaku. “He’s such a cold fish. What you need is someone with experience, someone who can satisfy you.”

“My lord, I’m sorry, but I really have to…I can’t—” Suzaku’s eyes widened as he felt teeth graze his ear.

He wasn’t getting out of this, was he? He was cornered with no one around to save him (not that anyone would), and it wasn’t as if Suzaku could refuse a prince. So instead, he forced his muscles to relax and allowed his eyes to glaze over. He had heard some people dealt with it by imagining somewhere else, a sort of mental vacation. But the only place Suzaku ever thought of was Japan, and those thoughts were colored with memories seeped in blood and gunfire. It didn’t matter how bad his situation was, because going there was worse.

So instead, he sunk into himself, taking whatever was left of his pride with him. If he couldn’t stop it, he could just disappear. It wouldn’t hurt if his mind wasn’t there.

Schneizel smiled, reaching up to Suzaku’s collar and loosening the knot on his tie.

Deep violet eyes flashed across Suzaku’s mind unbidden. A soft smile, long white fingers dexterous as they corrected Suzaku’s messy handiwork. “Here, let me fix that for you.”

This man was not Suzaku’s master. Relations without his master’s consent were strictly forbidden. Schneizel had no right to touch him.

But more than that, his hands on Suzaku’s body made him feel almost…guilty. All he could think about was that boy, with his warm smile and gentle voice. It was an act, a trick. Suzaku knew that. He didn’t owe him anything, but he still felt as if he was committing a grievous betrayal.

If he had given it even a seconds thought, Suzaku doubted he would have done it. But Suzaku wasn’t thinking, not really. He just knew he had to get out.

In a single movement, Suzaku grasped the doorknob behind him, slipping past the threshold and effectively slamming the door in the prince’s face.

Schneizel’s stared at the wooden barrier that had unexpectedly materialized before him, momentarily shocked. But then his surprise gave way as a slow, delighted smile spread across his face.

If there was one thing Schneizel loved, it was a challenge. This was going to be fun.

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It took several long seconds for Suzaku to reacquaint himself with breathing. The motion of filling his lungs up with oxygen seemed incredibly difficult, and it wasn’t until he entirely mastered it that higher thought returned to him.

He was screwed. He was so screwed. Suzaku had run away from a prince. He had slammed the door on his face. Schneizel would have been well within his rights to drag Suzaku out of the room in order to torture him in whatever way he wished, only stopping when he felt that Suzaku was sufficiently sorry.

So why hadn’t he?

For the first time, Suzaku allowed himself a moment to take in his surroundings. He was obviously in someone’s bedroom, and judging by the flowered wallpaper and white canopy bed, it most likely belonged to a girl.

Of course, the fact that there actually happened to be a girl sitting on that bed was somewhat of a tip off as well. She was a pretty little thing. Petite and pale, with long, wavy brown hair. The lavishness of her room could only mean one thing. Suzaku had unwittingly stumbled into a princess’s bedroom.

When it rains, it pours.

This must have been the reason Schneizel hadn’t bothered to follow him. The punishment that would come from intruding into a princess’s personal bedchamber was far worse than anything he could have dealt out himself.

She opened her mouth, and Suzaku braced himself. She was going to scream, he just knew it.

“…Is someone there?” she asked, her voice every bit as sweet as her face.

The question confused Suzaku. Shouldn’t it be obvious that another person was in the room with her? But then Suzaku noticed that her eyes were closed, and it all made sense.

“Please answer,” the girl pleaded. “I know you’re there. Don’t be afraid.”

Suzaku smiled, slightly amused that a tiny, blind child was telling the strange person in her room not to be afraid.

“Please forgive me, princess,” Suzaku answered quietly. “I stumbled into your room by mistake. I will leave immediately.”

“Wait,” the girl called, reaching out her hand. “If you’re not busy, will you please sit with me a while?”

It didn’t sound like an order. Suzaku could have said no. He should have said no. Just being there could get him into a lot of trouble, and there was still Schneizel to consider.

But she looked so…lonely. Suzaku found himself sitting beside her before the decision consciously met him brain.

The girl smiled, “I’ve never heard your voice before. What’s your name?”

Suzaku’s eyes widened. Two people asking his name in the span of a week? This was a very strange household (if a castle could even be called that).

“…It’s Suzaku, princess.”

“Oh! Are you Japanese, like Sayoko?” she asked.

Japanese, not Eleven. He hadn’t heard that in a while.

“Yes, I was…before,” Suzaku replied carefully. Britannians didn’t usually like it when Elevens referred to themselves as Japanese. He didn’t want to believe that this sweet girl was trying to trick him, but it was always better to be cautious.

“Before? What do you—oh. Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” the girl said, quietly.

“It’s all right, princess,” Suzaku said, forcing down the tiny knot in his throat that always accompanied mentions of his home country.

“Just call me, Nunnally!” the girl insisted. “Britannia has enough princesses.”

Suzaku shook his head, “I can’t—”

“Will you hold my hand, Suzaku?” Nunnally asked, cutting him off mid-sentence (possibly on purpose). “Touch is the only way I’m able to see things.”

Again, Suzaku found himself complying with her demands unbidden.

Nunnally grasped his hand gently, as if she was cupping a small, frightened animal, and Suzaku took the time to truly look at her. She was probably around Kaguya’s age, although Suzaku hadn’t seen her in years, so he couldn’t truly compare the two. He tried not to wonder about Kaguya, or what might have happened to her. There were too many options to choose from for a girl as pretty as her, and very few of them were pleasant.

The knot in Suzaku’s throat was back. It was time to think of something else.

“Your hands are very big,” Nunnally remarked. “Callused, worker’s hands.” She smiled, placing his hand against her cheek. (Suzaku distantly wondered if he should be uncomfortable with that.)

“They’re good hands. Very warm. But also…so sad. I can feel so much pain,” Nunnally tilted her head, and Suzaku realized with horror that there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Why are you so sad, Suzaku?”

There were too many. He took out countless numbers, but they just kept on coming.

Suzaku would die here. The knowledge didn’t upset him as much as it should have. Perhaps he had resigned himself to death long ago. Perhaps it was inevitable to one that had “unsheathed.”

But he knew he couldn’t give up without a fight. Suzaku was the only one left. He had to keep going. He owed his country that much, at least.

He heard a whirring noise from above, and then cruel laughter.

A Knightmare.

Suzaku tore his hand away.

“Please,” he begged (to who? Nunnally, God, himself?). “I don’t want to go there. Please, don’t make me go there!”

“Suzaku? What’s wrong? Calm down!” Nunnally cried.

But Nunnally’s words couldn’t reach him. Suzaku was too far away. Too far away to hear her, and too far away to notice the door opening.

“Nunnally? Schneizel told me he heard some weird noises in here. Are you all ri—Suzaku?”

Lelouch wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he opened his sister’s door, but he certainly hadn’t expected to see Suzaku looming over his sister, eyes wild. Were those tears on Nunnally’s face?

Lelouch saw red. His fingers found their way into Suzaku’s hair, and he yanked. Hard.

“Why are you in my sister’s room?” Lelouch demanded. “What did you do to her?”

The pain was a relief to Suzaku. It cleared his head, brought him back to the present.

A present, Suzaku realized in horror, in which his master had caught him in his little sister’s bedroom.

Suzaku threw himself to the floor, head low to the ground in the universal position of submission. “Forgive me, Master! I should never have come here!”

“No,” Lelouch agreed, eyes fiery. “You shouldn’t have.”

He raised his hand in a high strike…but then he felt small fingers grasp his shirt.

“Stop this, Lelouch! He didn’t do anything wrong! He was only keeping me company! Please, don’t hurt him!” Nunnally pleaded, the tears falling faster now.

Lelouch blinked, the rage fading from the edges of his vision in time to see Suzaku prostrating on the floor, a tense ball of nerves as he waited for the incoming blow.

“Keeping you…company?” Lelouch repeated, eyes wide.

Nunnally nodded, “I was lonely. I just wanted someone to talk to.”

Slowly, Lelouch dislodged his fingers from Suzaku’s curls, horrified with himself. “Oh, Suzaku, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I misunderstood. I’m so sorry.”

Suzaku didn’t dare lift his head. He had committed a grievous crime, and despite Lelouch’s reassuring words, he couldn’t believe that punishment would be avoided.

He felt hands grip his chin, gently raising it to meet violet eyes.

“Please, look at me. Don’t lie on the floor like that. This is my fault. You aren’t in trouble,” Lelouch said, eyes pleading. (Pleading for what? What did he have to beg for?)

At his master’s bidding, Suzaku got up slowly, allowing the boy to lead him out of the room.

“It was nice to meet you, Suzaku,” Nunnally said quietly.

Suzaku was too afraid to answer back.

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Please don't be mad at Lelouch. He'll make it up to Suzaku, I promise.