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code_geass
fire-rose17.livejournal.com in code_geassI know, you've long been waiting for this day, praying to the fanfiction gods daily that I would finally get a burst of inspiration and post the next part of XI.
...Or maybe not. I don't know what goes through your minds, and considering the conversations I've had with some of you, I don't think I want to.
Anyway, as you all may or may not know, yesterday was my birthday. I won't disclose my exact age, but I will tell you it's a big year for me. So, in celebration, I am posting, although a day late. So here it is. Sorry you had to wait so long, Francesca Orsetti. I'm just sorry it isn't longer. It kind of scares me that I still only have a vague idea of my plot.
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Nunnally wasn’t speaking to Lelouch. Ever since the incident in her room, she refused to even turn her head in his direction. He visited constantly, offered presents and repeated apologies, but the only time she had acknowledged his presence in the past two weeks was to state that she would forgive him when Suzaku did.
In a way, Lelouch couldn’t blame her for being upset. It didn't matter that Suzaku was a slave. Lelouch had crossed a line and he knew it. He had never hit anyone in his life, but in that moment, rage had run hot in his blood, and Lelouch knew with terrifying certainty that he would have done it.
And so had Suzaku. Lelouch had seen it in his eyes; bent low in submission as he begged for forgiveness. There had been fear there, but also resignation, as this had always been the expected, ultimately inevitable outcome. Those eyes kept coming back to Lelouch, and every time his stomach twisted with guilt, guilt, guilt.
Since then, Suzaku had completely closed himself off. Lelouch had thought he was reserved before, but there had still been a bit of light left in him, that pride that had attracted Lelouch in the first place. Now he was empty and timid, head always down, and never looking Lelouch in the eye.
Nunnally was right. He had to fix this. Because human beings were not meant to be empty headed dolls, and they shouldn’t act as such.
The problem was how to repair the situation. Suzaku didn’t exactly invite conversation. At this point, Suzaku’s sole method of communication was nodding his head, and Lelouch barely saw him most of the time. He would give Suzaku orders and the slave would disappear. Later, Lelouch would find his room clean and clothes washed, but it was as if it all appeared by magic, Suzaku skirting by him without ever making himself known. And the few times they did see each other, usually in the morning and right before bed, the awkwardness between them was a palpable force that choked all words from Lelouch’s throat. At least that was how the prince felt. It was hard to tell if Suzaku felt that tension, or anything at all. It was as if he was a clockwork toy that Lelouch had to wind in order for Suzaku carry out a mechanical parody of life. Emotions were merely unnecessary functions that used too much energy to maintain.
Lelouch had never found reading someone so difficult before. Usually people’s thoughts were easily interpreted, as simple and predictable as a child's story, but Suzaku was different. Thus far Lelouch had only been capable of gleaning little things, such as how Suzaku moved with graceful efficiency, never wasting a step, and arranged Lelouch’s clothes in tight, neat folds and military corners. It was as if he had locked his entire personality in a steel vault and buried it under twenty feet of concrete.
Nevertheless, Lelouch tried. He was finally reduced to his last resort, cornering Suzaku and forcing him to have a conversation. Which probably wasn’t the best way to execute an apology, but he was running out of options.
Suzaku stood there silently, obviously a bit confused as to why the door was blocked, but not questioning his master’s reasoning.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Lelouch said, color highlighting his cheeks (because apologies were hard, and he wasn’t used to them. Royalty didn’t usually apologize.)
Suzaku tilted his head quizzically and nodded once. Clearly he had no idea what Lelouch was talking about, but was going along with it anyway.
Great, he would have to elaborate. “In Nunnally’s room,” Lelouch began (Suzaku’s eyes widened. It was the most expression he had seen on his face in weeks), “I…overreacted, so…I’m sorry.”
Suzaku blinked. “Why?” The question escaped him before he could reel it in, because he couldn’t imagine Lelouch having to apologize for anything.
Lelouch looked baffled. “Why?” Shouldn’t that go without saying?
But Suzaku seemed to take that tone as a demand to answer the question, so he did. “I belong to you, Master. I exist to do your bidding. If you choose to hit me, it’s your right to do so. Apologies are unnecessary.” And again, he had to wonder what that boy was playing at, because shouldn’t this be common knowledge? Apologizing to a slave? It was like apologizing to a sofa for sitting on it. That was what it was there for.
“But that’s…” Lelouch fumbled. Suzaku was right. He had been taught that all his life, not in those exact words of course, but more or less the same idea. However, in Suzaku’s flat toned, matter of fact delivery, justifying Lelouch’s right to strike him for no reason other than a technicality of birth, it seemed so...wrong.
“That’s the way the world works, Master.” Suzaku said, smile small and surprisingly bitter. And then he brushed past Lelouch without another word.
Lelouch was a restless sleeper. His mind was always working, always full of ideas and plans, and often it was difficult for him to wind down enough to sleep at night. Usually he would end up lying in bed for at least an hour before he managed to doze off. To make matters worse, he could be roused by the smallest of noises, making an eight hour sleep a pipe dream at best. Every footstep in the hall, every faint voice from far off rooms…and every whimper emitted from his roommate.
It had started out so small Lelouch wasn’t able to fathom what had woken him. But then he heard it again and again, ranging from anguished moans to tiny screams set to a symphony of couch springs.
It was the most horrifying thing Lelouch had ever heard, and this was merely the background noise. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in Suzaku’s head that could induce such torment. So he found himself climbing out of bed and making his way towards Suzaku’s side of the room, because if he couldn’t understand it, he could at the very least make it stop.
The Japanese turned Eleven made a tragic picture, face twisted in simulated horrors, body soaked in sweat and sheets twisted around him in a death grip. And as Lelouch came closer, Suzaku’s mumblings transformed into words.
“Blood…dead, everyone’s dead. My fault…my fault,” Suzaku whimpered, voice pained and whisper soft. “No! Nonononono! I don’t…I don’t want…please. Please stop. Stop it!”
Lelouch, eyes wide, reached out and gave Suzaku’s shoulder a light shake. “Suza—”
It was the worst thing he could have done. A single touch was all it took for Suzaku’s eyes to snap open, his arm shooting out and pinning Lelouch to the floor, fingers at his throat.
Suzaku gazed into Lelouch’s face, his eyes huge and unseeing, and pressed down into the smooth, white neck.
In a panic, Lelouch pried at the slave’s fingers, but they wouldn’t budge. The pressure was only slightly uncomfortable, but he could feel the strength in Suzaku’s hands, capable of crushing Lelouch’s windpipe if he was so inclined.
“Suzaku,” Lelouch cried. “Stop!”
But he wouldn’t stop, because it wasn’t Lelouch that he was seeing. His face was too vacant, eyes still glazed over, deep in the throes of rage and terror. No, he didn't see Lelouch. What he saw was he face of the enemy.
Although, Lelouch thought wryly, perhaps to him they were one in the same.
Changing tactics, Lelouch forced himself to relax his grip. “Suzaku, calm down. Please. You’re safe here.” Being forceful wouldn't get him anywhere. Better to speak softly, make him see there was nothing to fear, and gently pull Suzaku out of the dream.
Suzaku paused, grip slackening ever so slightly. “S-safe?” he parroted, as if it he was sounding out a foreign word. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt safe, not jumping at shadows and sleeping with both eyes open, so afraid of what lurked in the dark.
Lelouch nodded. “Yes, safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Relax. If you be a good, obedient boy, I won’t hurt you.”
Suzaku shook his head, brunet curls whipping across his face. “N-no! You’re lying! YOU’RE LYING!” Because Suzaku had already been hurt, so many times, and it wouldn't go away. His body and soul, bruised and damaged until both were bent into submission, willing to take on any shape his abuser desired.
And the neck under his hands was soft and pliable as he pressed down. He wanted to make it suffer, to make it feel alone and helpless, just like him. He wanted it to feel his pain.
Desperately, Lelouch clawed at his neck. “Suzaku!” he choked. “S-stop…please! You’re…k-killing…me!”
Killing me…
People, dead and dying. Funeral pyres. Smoke and gunpowder and burning. The glint of a knife’s edge. His fault, all his fault. Murderer. Killer. Killkillkillkillkill.
"Why are you the last man standing?"
“No!” Suzaku cried, finally relinquishing his hold and curling up into a little ball on the floor, rocking himself jerkily. “I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”
Lelouch stood there, dumbfounded as he drew in much needed breath. Gone was the angry boy, broken, suffering and looking to get even; replaced by the frightened child that had been ripped from his homeland and everything he knew.
“It’s okay,” Lelouch whispered gently.
“No, not okay! Never!” Suzaku cried.
“Hush,” Lelouch crooned, softly wrapping his arms around the boy like he had done so often with Nunnally when she had been small. Perhaps he was insane to embrace the person that had just tried to strangle him, but Suzaku would not harm him now. Lelouch was certain of it.
“I never wanted to hurt anybody,” Suzaku whispered, his face in Lelouch’s shoulder.
“I know,” Lelouch murmured as he stroked the boy’s hair. “Sleep now.”
Suzaku gave a little sigh, clinging to the tiny source of comfort Lelouch offered him and allowing his ministrations to chase the terrors away, if only for a moment.
There on the floor, Lelouch’s arms warm around him, Suzaku slept.
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Thank you to everyone who wished me happy birthday. I accept comments as presents
...Or maybe not. I don't know what goes through your minds, and considering the conversations I've had with some of you, I don't think I want to.
Anyway, as you all may or may not know, yesterday was my birthday. I won't disclose my exact age, but I will tell you it's a big year for me. So, in celebration, I am posting, although a day late. So here it is. Sorry you had to wait so long, Francesca Orsetti. I'm just sorry it isn't longer. It kind of scares me that I still only have a vague idea of my plot.
---------------------------------
Nunnally wasn’t speaking to Lelouch. Ever since the incident in her room, she refused to even turn her head in his direction. He visited constantly, offered presents and repeated apologies, but the only time she had acknowledged his presence in the past two weeks was to state that she would forgive him when Suzaku did.
In a way, Lelouch couldn’t blame her for being upset. It didn't matter that Suzaku was a slave. Lelouch had crossed a line and he knew it. He had never hit anyone in his life, but in that moment, rage had run hot in his blood, and Lelouch knew with terrifying certainty that he would have done it.
And so had Suzaku. Lelouch had seen it in his eyes; bent low in submission as he begged for forgiveness. There had been fear there, but also resignation, as this had always been the expected, ultimately inevitable outcome. Those eyes kept coming back to Lelouch, and every time his stomach twisted with guilt, guilt, guilt.
Since then, Suzaku had completely closed himself off. Lelouch had thought he was reserved before, but there had still been a bit of light left in him, that pride that had attracted Lelouch in the first place. Now he was empty and timid, head always down, and never looking Lelouch in the eye.
Nunnally was right. He had to fix this. Because human beings were not meant to be empty headed dolls, and they shouldn’t act as such.
The problem was how to repair the situation. Suzaku didn’t exactly invite conversation. At this point, Suzaku’s sole method of communication was nodding his head, and Lelouch barely saw him most of the time. He would give Suzaku orders and the slave would disappear. Later, Lelouch would find his room clean and clothes washed, but it was as if it all appeared by magic, Suzaku skirting by him without ever making himself known. And the few times they did see each other, usually in the morning and right before bed, the awkwardness between them was a palpable force that choked all words from Lelouch’s throat. At least that was how the prince felt. It was hard to tell if Suzaku felt that tension, or anything at all. It was as if he was a clockwork toy that Lelouch had to wind in order for Suzaku carry out a mechanical parody of life. Emotions were merely unnecessary functions that used too much energy to maintain.
Lelouch had never found reading someone so difficult before. Usually people’s thoughts were easily interpreted, as simple and predictable as a child's story, but Suzaku was different. Thus far Lelouch had only been capable of gleaning little things, such as how Suzaku moved with graceful efficiency, never wasting a step, and arranged Lelouch’s clothes in tight, neat folds and military corners. It was as if he had locked his entire personality in a steel vault and buried it under twenty feet of concrete.
Nevertheless, Lelouch tried. He was finally reduced to his last resort, cornering Suzaku and forcing him to have a conversation. Which probably wasn’t the best way to execute an apology, but he was running out of options.
Suzaku stood there silently, obviously a bit confused as to why the door was blocked, but not questioning his master’s reasoning.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Lelouch said, color highlighting his cheeks (because apologies were hard, and he wasn’t used to them. Royalty didn’t usually apologize.)
Suzaku tilted his head quizzically and nodded once. Clearly he had no idea what Lelouch was talking about, but was going along with it anyway.
Great, he would have to elaborate. “In Nunnally’s room,” Lelouch began (Suzaku’s eyes widened. It was the most expression he had seen on his face in weeks), “I…overreacted, so…I’m sorry.”
Suzaku blinked. “Why?” The question escaped him before he could reel it in, because he couldn’t imagine Lelouch having to apologize for anything.
Lelouch looked baffled. “Why?” Shouldn’t that go without saying?
But Suzaku seemed to take that tone as a demand to answer the question, so he did. “I belong to you, Master. I exist to do your bidding. If you choose to hit me, it’s your right to do so. Apologies are unnecessary.” And again, he had to wonder what that boy was playing at, because shouldn’t this be common knowledge? Apologizing to a slave? It was like apologizing to a sofa for sitting on it. That was what it was there for.
“But that’s…” Lelouch fumbled. Suzaku was right. He had been taught that all his life, not in those exact words of course, but more or less the same idea. However, in Suzaku’s flat toned, matter of fact delivery, justifying Lelouch’s right to strike him for no reason other than a technicality of birth, it seemed so...wrong.
“That’s the way the world works, Master.” Suzaku said, smile small and surprisingly bitter. And then he brushed past Lelouch without another word.
oOo
Lelouch was a restless sleeper. His mind was always working, always full of ideas and plans, and often it was difficult for him to wind down enough to sleep at night. Usually he would end up lying in bed for at least an hour before he managed to doze off. To make matters worse, he could be roused by the smallest of noises, making an eight hour sleep a pipe dream at best. Every footstep in the hall, every faint voice from far off rooms…and every whimper emitted from his roommate.
It had started out so small Lelouch wasn’t able to fathom what had woken him. But then he heard it again and again, ranging from anguished moans to tiny screams set to a symphony of couch springs.
It was the most horrifying thing Lelouch had ever heard, and this was merely the background noise. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in Suzaku’s head that could induce such torment. So he found himself climbing out of bed and making his way towards Suzaku’s side of the room, because if he couldn’t understand it, he could at the very least make it stop.
The Japanese turned Eleven made a tragic picture, face twisted in simulated horrors, body soaked in sweat and sheets twisted around him in a death grip. And as Lelouch came closer, Suzaku’s mumblings transformed into words.
“Blood…dead, everyone’s dead. My fault…my fault,” Suzaku whimpered, voice pained and whisper soft. “No! Nonononono! I don’t…I don’t want…please. Please stop. Stop it!”
Lelouch, eyes wide, reached out and gave Suzaku’s shoulder a light shake. “Suza—”
It was the worst thing he could have done. A single touch was all it took for Suzaku’s eyes to snap open, his arm shooting out and pinning Lelouch to the floor, fingers at his throat.
Suzaku gazed into Lelouch’s face, his eyes huge and unseeing, and pressed down into the smooth, white neck.
In a panic, Lelouch pried at the slave’s fingers, but they wouldn’t budge. The pressure was only slightly uncomfortable, but he could feel the strength in Suzaku’s hands, capable of crushing Lelouch’s windpipe if he was so inclined.
“Suzaku,” Lelouch cried. “Stop!”
But he wouldn’t stop, because it wasn’t Lelouch that he was seeing. His face was too vacant, eyes still glazed over, deep in the throes of rage and terror. No, he didn't see Lelouch. What he saw was he face of the enemy.
Although, Lelouch thought wryly, perhaps to him they were one in the same.
Changing tactics, Lelouch forced himself to relax his grip. “Suzaku, calm down. Please. You’re safe here.” Being forceful wouldn't get him anywhere. Better to speak softly, make him see there was nothing to fear, and gently pull Suzaku out of the dream.
Suzaku paused, grip slackening ever so slightly. “S-safe?” he parroted, as if it he was sounding out a foreign word. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt safe, not jumping at shadows and sleeping with both eyes open, so afraid of what lurked in the dark.
Lelouch nodded. “Yes, safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Relax. If you be a good, obedient boy, I won’t hurt you.”
Suzaku shook his head, brunet curls whipping across his face. “N-no! You’re lying! YOU’RE LYING!” Because Suzaku had already been hurt, so many times, and it wouldn't go away. His body and soul, bruised and damaged until both were bent into submission, willing to take on any shape his abuser desired.
And the neck under his hands was soft and pliable as he pressed down. He wanted to make it suffer, to make it feel alone and helpless, just like him. He wanted it to feel his pain.
Desperately, Lelouch clawed at his neck. “Suzaku!” he choked. “S-stop…please! You’re…k-killing…me!”
Killing me…
People, dead and dying. Funeral pyres. Smoke and gunpowder and burning. The glint of a knife’s edge. His fault, all his fault. Murderer. Killer. Killkillkillkillkill.
"Why are you the last man standing?"
“No!” Suzaku cried, finally relinquishing his hold and curling up into a little ball on the floor, rocking himself jerkily. “I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”
Lelouch stood there, dumbfounded as he drew in much needed breath. Gone was the angry boy, broken, suffering and looking to get even; replaced by the frightened child that had been ripped from his homeland and everything he knew.
“It’s okay,” Lelouch whispered gently.
“No, not okay! Never!” Suzaku cried.
“Hush,” Lelouch crooned, softly wrapping his arms around the boy like he had done so often with Nunnally when she had been small. Perhaps he was insane to embrace the person that had just tried to strangle him, but Suzaku would not harm him now. Lelouch was certain of it.
“I never wanted to hurt anybody,” Suzaku whispered, his face in Lelouch’s shoulder.
“I know,” Lelouch murmured as he stroked the boy’s hair. “Sleep now.”
Suzaku gave a little sigh, clinging to the tiny source of comfort Lelouch offered him and allowing his ministrations to chase the terrors away, if only for a moment.
There on the floor, Lelouch’s arms warm around him, Suzaku slept.
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Thank you to everyone who wished me happy birthday. I accept comments as presents
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Happy Birthday!
I can't wait to see his reaction when he wakes up in Lelouch's arms. ;) (not so good, maybe? ''xD)
Angry!Nunnaly is so win. :P
I know, you've long been waiting for this day, praying to the fanfiction gods daily that I would finally get a burst of inspiration and post the next part of XI.
It's me. ^_^
...Or maybe not. I don't know what goes through your minds, and considering the conversations I've had with some of you, I don't think I want to.
Ow, that is cold. D: