"He made a promise about our future together, right?"
C.C. said it stoically. A long time ago, C.C. used to dream. Actually, they were never really dreams, but nightmares, and she used to have the same reoccurring nightmare. Then, one night, it changed.
---
Chains shackled her feet to the ground, similar ones her hands to the blood-splattered wall. The blood always turned out to be hers. Sometimes, she knew that at the beginning, and sometimes, she would realize it halfway through and become completely horrified. She was naked, usually, with long, fresh scars running up and down her stomach and legs. It hurt, too; the pain racked her body with silent, ravaging screams until they peaked, and she opened her mouth to release their pent up anger and sorrow.
So many people walked by as she screamed. Faceless souls that moaned and dragged on with hopeless tread. She never saw their eyes, and once in a while, one of them would approach her.
How she feared their approach. She watched their movement, completely terrified of any shift in their gait. She prayed with eyes shut tightly against the unearthly sight, but it never helped. Eventually, each one would go up to her and, raising a long, grey claw from a stump of a hand, rake it across her hot flesh.
The same dream day in and day out. For a time, C.C. refused to sleep, but after the first few days, she dozed off whilst scrubbing the chapel's stone floors – a punishment for her recklessly using Geass again.
It was the same place, the same haggard ghouls, the same pain that never dulled despite the frequency of the dream. This time, however…
The first person that came up, reaching his arm out as though to embrace her though C.C. knew better, suddenly stopped. C.C. slowly raised her head, closing her dry mouth against the screams that fought to be released. She started.
Violet eyes.
Sad.
Simultaneously, C.C. felt tears stream down her cheeks.
When she woke, C.C. found herself in a cold sweat with suspicious, clear stains stretching from the corner of her eyes.
Little did she know that in a few hours, blood would spill across the floor she had so meticulously finished cleaning.
C.C. never dreamed again.
---
She shifted in her seat and watched as Lelouch threw the teacup aside. It shattered.
Strangely, his violet eyes seemed vaguely familiar.