So like, I love lawyers. I also love ItaOro (as is painfully obvious, tbh), so it kind of naturally followed that I'd do a big, ItaOro lawyer AU fic, right?

This is all set in a late 1800s style era, so you can count on top hats, revolvers, carriages and other such exciting contraptions. And cravats, dontcha know.

There'll be plenty of other side pairings sneaking in to cause havoc, complete with a good deal of conspiracy and unclear motives, cuz that's just how I roll, baby. You can also expect some angst – I mean, hell, how can you not have angst in a fic where someone kills his family, eh?

This chapter is kind of like a … prologue setting up thing, I guess. Don't expect it to make any sense.

You have been warned.

The first thing anyone had heard of the greatest murder case of the century was a gunshot and a scream. The next week, all one could read in the newspapers were theories – 'Who killed the Uchihas?', or 'The youngest survivor hospitalized and the other two in shock! Could one of them have done it?'

The week after that, the new news was all over the headlines: 'Uchiha killings revealed as son shockingly confesses' or 'Demon spawn claims responsibility for massacre!' However it was worded, heads turned. And the more heads turned, the more mouths opened and soon Itachi Uchiha was the talk of the town, his name becoming the subject of curses and disgust.

But this is getting ahead of the facts. There were certain undeniable truths about the case, truths that added layers of conspiracy to the bizarre slaughter. Truths such as that the Uchihas were the most wealthy business family in the city, and almost the most ancient, second only to the remnants of the Senju clan which was now broken beyond repair. A truth such as that the current leader of the clan, Uchiha Madara, was rumoured to be soon standing for the position of city Mayor, previously denied the position in favour of another. With his family dead, would he still do it? Then there were the two sons of the main branch, Sasuke and Itachi, with bright futures as the heirs. "What exactly would drive a boy with his life ahead of him to kill his family?" was one of the more popular questions out on the streets, and there were plenty of whispered answers.

Regardless of the theories breeding on the streets, the day Uchiha Itachi's trial was announced was a day of jubilation, and until that day he sat in a detention cell in isolation, rumours saying there was not a shred of remorse about him. Indeed, they claimed he was smiling. Needless to say, with his confession and the entire city against him, his trial lasted a grand total of half an hour before the young Uchiha was condemned to an eternity in prison, 'his punishment not enough to even begin to atone' the prosecutor had said. The acting defence lawyer, a thoroughly unremarkable man far out of his depth, had only nodded having known from the beginning there was no way to fight the iron hand of justice.

Ten minutes or so later, Uchiha Itachi was ushered out of the court room to face a small army of journalists, all scribbling fiercely in their little notebooks, calling his name and barraging him with questions. The one time he opened his mouth was to say: "I'm guilty. I deserve this."

"Haha, what d'ya think he did?"

"Pfff, him? He's probably some whore that got caught."

"Stupid, you don't get sent to prison for that."

Escorted by a guard of six, Uchiha Itachi walked down an expanse of corridor lined with cells on either side. He had not expected his prison life to be a pleasant affair, but part of him was hoping that it wouldn't quite be this… intimate. From one cell, you could see across into the other side's through the bars, and voices were clearly audible from several cells down the hall. To his distaste, Itachi noted that the toilets were right next to the cells' beds, again in plain view. He sighed heavily and carried on walking, making sure to ignore the chatter that was emitting from the inmates, all of whom were staring at him with curiosity.

"Oh, hey, doesn't he look like that Uchiha…?"

"Oh! That's what they were called. Yeah. I'm pretty sure that's him."

"Woah, can't judge a book by its cover… He doesn't look like he could shoot game let alone his family."

Itachi's tallest guard whose name he was not sure of, broke out of formation to fire his gun up in the ceiling, instantly silencing the incarcerated. "Shut up, worms!"

There was a tentative pause, but ultimately the gesture was ignored and the inmates continued chatting, although with Itachi having noticeably less focus. Thankful for this, he nearly gave the guard a gratuitous look before recalling that they only agreed to protect him as they thought a demon like him was too far beneath assassination or something of the sort. Thus they protected him from the death they claimed would be a mercy. Indeed, Itachi thought it would be, too.

Instead of a truthfully welcome demise, he settled for marching on wards with his emotionless mask well in place. It wasn't for another minute or so until he realized that his prison guide had been speaking to him. She was a fairly tall woman and notably refined, however her eyes were darkened with tiredness, yet her blue hair tied back neatly. Itachi had to wonder what a distinguished woman such as herself was doing here; he would have thought she would be better off at home.

"...as I touched on earlier, meal times are on a rota depending on what prison block you're in. Your block, C, has a 12:30 start, ending at 1:30 during which the lunch hall will be open to you for the first half. You can do what you like with the second half; there's a library to visit, you could speak with the others in the courtyard or do some exercise… Any questions so far?"

He paused, taking this in. In retrospect, an hour for lunch really was quite respectable. Itachi was beginning to see why some people preferred jail to their daily lives. "Ah, yes... What are the arrangements for showers?" The matter was beyond close to Itachi's heart, indeed, washing was one of those things he was certain he could not live without.

The woman laughed lightly in a silvery tone and smiled wryly. "I thought you might be the type to ask. Thanks to a prisoner's intervention some while ago, you'll be able to have a shower every day and the bathroom is fully stocked."

He ought to have been able to contain his relief but he could not, and so Itachi let out a heavy breath of contentment and felt the corners of his mouth turn ever so slightly. He caught himself before he looked too silly. How long had it been since that happened…?

The woman was eyeing him in curiosity, much like the inmates had earlier. "I'm curious, Itachi-kun, you really don't seem…"

Whatever contentment he had felt earlier was replaced with a hollowness, and Itachi's face instantly returned to an emotionless façade. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"… I understand," She replied amiably, turning back to face the corridor ahead which they continued to walk through. "My name is Konan, by the way."

Eventually, she stopped walking in front of an empty cell, presumably where Itachi was to be staying for the rest of his life. She gave him an earnest look and offered her hand in a sign of friendship which he took after a moment of consideration. "We'll probably see each other around, Itachi-san."

"Thank you, Konan-san," He managed; already stepping into his new abode if one could call it that. It was much the same as the others, he mused. The four stone walls were uneven, with all manner of things potentially lurking in the shadows. There was no furniture save for a crumbling excuse for a wooden shelf on which sat an oil lamp, a solid looking bed and the identical pithy toilet which Itachi had spied on the way there in other cells. Cold, dark, slightly damp… Utterly uninviting, but that was to be expected. It was what he deserved, after all.

With a final farewell, the blue haired woman walked away, his guards following but not before closing his cell door with a final slam.

Itachi paused, looking out at their retreating figures. He did not do so for long, instead opting to lie upon his bed, an arm over his eyes, utterly exhausted from the day – getting sentenced for life and then shipped off to jail had unsurprisingly taken it out of him.

His last thought before sleep took him was of his brother's face.

Uchiha Sasuke pulled his scarf tightly around his neck in an attempt to hide from the frigid weather of mid-November. In retrospect, he should have worn an overcoat but in his arrogance he had ventured out expecting his tailored jacket and waistcoat to protect him from the torrent of snow.

Of course, it could not be said he was mentally the best right now – he had to force his butler to allow him outside his room, and getting out of the manor had required a full blown escape. But it was necessary: there was something he had to do at any cost.

Earlier that day he had stood in court and listened to his brother confess to the murder of his entire family – the beloved brother he had trusted with his entire soul, and he would be lying if he said he was not on the verge of tears throughout the whole affair. His uncle had smiled at him at the time, saying something along the lines of 'Oh Sasuke, you are but 15, crying is perfectly understandable!', he himself utterly unfazed by the fact he was attending his nephew's trial on account of the slaughter of the rest of his kin.

Then again, Sasuke had never thought his uncle to be anything more than a heartless bastard, and the day had confirmed it.

A carriage flew by, bringing Sasuke back to the bitterly cold world in a gust of wind. Uncomfortably he wondered why he was not wearing his top hat – he was certain he had put it on…

"Sir, a newspap—oh God, you be the youngest Uchiha?" A young boy had approached him. Truthfully, they were probably the same age, but putting the two next to each other one would only show a wide eyed youth next to a young man whose eyes were darkened with death.

"… No." Sasuke snapped, grabbing a newspaper before hurrying on to his destination.

And he would not stop until he saw his brother executed.

A steady tick filled the ears of the man at the desk. He had moved that damn clock away from the corner closest to him in order to escape the accursed sound, yet somehow it still reached him from across his mahogany plated study. His eyes flicked up to glare at the object, no longer able to focus on the letter he was midway through writing. The clock stood at a good two meters, intricately carved on all parts. The golden pendulum in the centre behind a polished glass panel swung contentedly and Uchiha Madara found his eyes stuck at it for some while, almost hypnotised by the movement.

Idly, he wondered how the man who had given the damn thing to him was doing.

With a sharp shake of the head, he returned his focus to the letter below him, a request to bail out his dear nephew. The results of today's trial sat bitterly with him, almost in the form of a bad taste in his mouth. Never once had Itachi given any indication that he intended to confess – it was his job, no, his duty to deny all charges, and it was his lawyer's duty to make sure he got off scot free. They had both failed miserably, and Madara had seen the latter take his last breath two hours earlier as repentance.

There was a knock at the door, and irritably he called out that whoever it was may enter. Truth be told, he was not surprised to see a renowned man leaning on the door frame, overdressed as ever yet impeccably turned out.

The butler responsible for opening the door gave Madara a bow of respect and allowed the visitor to saunter in before retreating hastily to leave the two men to their discussion.

There was a silence between them which the clock filled nicely, before the visitor spoke in a silky tone. "I do believe I remember telling you that the boy would be out of his depth?"

Politely, Madara offered a chair in which the other man sat down in with an elegant movement. As he did so, the Uchiha replied with an equally polite smile. "Honestly, I was not counting on my nephew confessing of all things… Even you could have done nothing, I suspect." He made a vexed noise for emphasis.

"Nonsense. A confession is but a minor setback to a good defence," The other replied, glancing over to what Madara had been writing earlier, now abandoned. "Bail? I suppose I could help you there."

Madara laughed lightly in response. "No need. I suspect this will fail." Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a lacquered box of confectionary. "Biscuit?"

"No thank you, sir." The last word was strained, as though the visitor was using every fibre of his being to force it out.

"As I was saying… This will not succeed. In fact, I am counting on it failing."

"Doubtless you have other things in mind," The visitor responded with a smirk, leaning over Madara's desk with his face lightly propped up in his hands. "You certainly have the look of a man with an idea."

The Uchiha replied with an equally crooked smile and raised an eyebrow, also leaning over his desk in a similar fashion from the comfortable confines of his favourite arm chair. "You'll be pleased to know that you're included in it, I suppose." He paused for a tense moment. "And so is my other nephew."

The visitor looked Madara firmly in the eyes and reached over to the box, pulling out a chocolate biscuit, humming to himself in pleasure. "Name your price, Uchiha Madara." He raised his biscuit holding hand up to his mouth, and before he could take a bite, Madara swiftly stole it away with a darkly amused face.

"I think you know what it is by now, no, Oro-kun?" And if there was any offense caused by the little nickname, Orochimaru did a remarkably good job of hiding it as he sighed in resignation.

Well, that's that.

Hope it wasn't too awful, though I'm not sure if I have the guts to carry this on. We'll see~!