Lelouch opens his eyes to be greeted by infinite darkness. He twists his head but to no avail he figures out where he is. He tries to sit up and he can only do so at an excruciatingly slow pace that makes his muscles scream in pain. When he manages to sit up and looks at his body to see just what had been holding him down, and the sight makes his blood turn to ice in his veins.
Thick, thorny vines are wrapped all around his arms, his legs, his abdomen, his whole body. Beneath the vines the fabric of his shirt and trousers that are soaked through with blood are torn, exposing bruised flesh.
It was a mortifying sight and feeling, but what astounded Lelouch the most were the flower petals. They were a deep shade of red, almost the colour of his blood. They were scattered everywhere near him. He reaches for a petal and twirls it between his fingers, thinking about the trenchancy that something so beautiful can be born from the ugly vines. He moves his hand to his face to get a closer look at the lavish petal, but as his vision focuses, his notices something that makes his stomach drop.
He is not alone.
But it was only the fraction of a second that he'd seen the person sitting across him that everything melted into nothingness.
When Lelouch opens his eyes again he is greeted by a dim light. He gasps and coughs, feeling like shards of glass are moving around his lungs. He hears some voices and feels someone gently help him into a sitting up position which is strange because Lelouch was certain he was sitting up just a moment ago.
"Drink," Lelouch hears as a cool glass is pressed against his lips. Feeling his throat dry as a desert, he gladly gulps the water, even though it was a torment to swallow.
Lelouch closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. The first things he sees are the worried faces of Clovis and Euphemia.
"We thought you were never going to wake up," Clovis says, sounding like he's been holding his breath for an enduring period of time. He sits on one of the chairs next to Lelouch, running a hand through his hair, moving long locks away from his forehead.
"How are you feeling?" Euphemia asks, putting her hands on Lelouch's shoulder.
Lelouch shakes her hands away, feeling the touch much too intolerable on his sore body. "Like I've had shards of glass pushed down my throat then had my body thrown over a cliff, thanks for asking," he says, noticing how hoarse his voice is. Euphemia notices it as well, and she hands Lelouch more water before sitting down.
Lelouch helps himself with the gulps of water and his head and vision finally clear. He is sitting in a sterile, ivory room that he can only guess is in the hospital wing. To his left Clovis is sitting on a chair, and to his right Euphemia and Schneizel are on a couch. A distance from him is another couch where Cornelia is sitting, a sleeping Nunnally in her arms. Lelouch looks around, feeling his stomach tie into knots. It must be something phenomenal that happened to him for his siblings to gather around like this.
"Well, no one can say love is not accompanied by pain, dear brother," Clovis says, smiling.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lelouch eyes Clovis suspiciously before looking around again and noticing that everyone is smiling at him. He feels a chill run down his spine.
"You… don't remember?" Euphemia asks in a low voice.
"I do recall feeling unbearable pain. Anything else I'm supposed to remember?"
Lelouch's siblings exchange unnerved glances, which doesn't help his nervousness. With no words spoken, Clovis reaches for the table next to Lelouch, grabbing a small clear container. He hands the container to Lelouch and the violet-eyed boy's suspicion doesn't abate.
Lelouch takes the container and examines it, his eyes widening and his body freezing when he sees what's inside.
A small, red flower petal.
Only then does the memory come back. He did feel, in the midst of the burning coughs, something cool and smooth climbing up his throat. But that was a mere second before he'd lost consciousness. Lelouch rubs his temples, trying to make sense of anything that has happened, but Clovis takes the pleasure to do so.
"You're in love!" the third prince sings, throwing an arm around Lelouch's shoulders. "Cupid has shot an arrow right at you and had you swept right off your feet. You've found the Juliet to your Romeo, your Aphrodite, someone who has managed to get the Dark Prince's attention and affection when no one else—"
"Can you get off me?" Lelouch leans away from Clovis and is glad when the latter takes his place again, even if that idiotic smile doesn't get wiped off his lips.
Lelouch's grip tightens on the container, his knuckles whitening. He grits his teeth as he cranes his head to stare at the ceiling. His thoughts are spinning round and round and he can already feel a headache forming. Too much has gotten into his head at once he will need an entire lifetime to analyse his situation, especially about the falling in love part.
Last time the prince checked, he hadn't gotten swept off his feet. He is a rather reserved person and his unforthcoming nature does tend to drive people away, which is exactly what he bargained for. He already has a hard time understanding his own feelings and attending to them, just how can he bring another person in the picture?
But perhaps the most important question of all is just who managed to get his attention and make him fall in love in the first place? Lelouch himself is intrigued, an astonishing feat it is for someone to have the Dark Prince's minimal affection bestowed upon them. Though with his curiosity there is anger, and it's all directed at himself. How could Lelouch let his guard down? How could he do something against his better judgment? Had he even been thinking at all?
Lelouch isn't aware his frustration had been showing until he feels Euphemia's hand on his. He turns to her to be greeted by her sad, somewhat pitiful smile.
"We know it's hard for you," she says quietly. "And we want you to know you're not alone in this. We'll be by your side the whole way through."
Lelouch inhales as deeply as he could without feeling his lungs hurt. "Thanks, Euphy," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels.
"That's why we're all here," Clovis says. "We figured wouldn't feel good once you woke up, so we came here to make you feel better."
Euphemia eagerly nods, letting go of Lelouch's hand and reaching for the basket next to her before handing it to Lelouch. "We even made this for you."
Lelouch sets the container back on the table and takes the basket. He fiddles with the red and white ribbons sticking out in all directions, and the silky cushion on which cards and flowers and other things are placed. He feels his lips curve into a smile. "Thank you guys,"—he slowly rummages through the contents, getting excited when he spots the golden-coated aluminum-like material that he knows is used for wrapping chocolate—"I'm actually in the mood for…"—only to find mere hints of chocolate on them. "…chocolate wrappers?"
Everyone turns to Clovis.
"They were melting," the third prince says defensively, lifting him palms. "Someone had to eat them."
Lelouch sighs as he sets the basket next to him but Clovis is quick to liven things up.
"The chocolate is of no importance right now, Lelouch. You have something much sweeter coming your way."
"More like something more exasperating," Lelouch grumbles, shifting in the white sheets. "I don't get it. I never chose to be in love. How can I get the disease when I don't even know how or when or why I caught feelings?"
"No one is ever really aware when their heart is captured, Lelouch," Schneizel says.
Clovis sneers at the second son. "Because you are an expert on love?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh I see," Clovis crosses his arms, "so you suddenly claim to be the lovebird after your poor aide de camp had to undergo the surgery to remove the flower only because you were too coldblooded to love him back. That seems just."
There was a collective sigh.
"We've been over this time and again, Clovis. I was not the person Kanon caught feelings for."
Clovis shakes his head in disdain. "I still can't figure out what he saw in you."
"That's the point."
"What happened to this whole making me feel better thing?" Lelouch waves his palms at his brothers. Clovis and Schneizel turn as if they had indeed forgotten their younger brother's presence.
"Well I was about to get to it," Clovis says, "but you happen to be in luck. We can easily figure out who you're in love with."
"We can?"
"Yes. Now you coughed up the flower petal right after the royal ball, which means that the person you caught feelings for was at the ball. All we have to do is set you for a rendezvous with each girl who attended the ball until you determine who the one is."
"But symptoms of the Hanahaki Disease can start showing as well as a week after the feelings begin to develop," Schneizel says. "It might just be any girl he met on any occasion."
"Then we'll invite every girl in the kingdom," Clovis says like it's a piece of cake.
"That's a wonderful idea," Lelouch feigns keenness. "Good thing I still have the other glass slipper."
"The way I see it," Cornelia breaks her silence, "we shouldn't be as concerned about the lamentable chain of events that qualifies to be referred to as Lelouch's love life as we should be concerned about his health."
"That I agree with," Clovis says. "You did go through quite the torment because of the disease. Almost everyone at the palace could hear you scream that day, and when we reached your chambers you had already lost consciousness."
Lelouch slowly grits his teeth. He does vaguely remember many people running at him that day.
"You've been comatose for over two days, and you don't look much better since you've woken up," Euphemia says and Lelouch can hear the sadness in her voice.
"You do look quite pale. It's probably low sugar levels." Clovis reaches for the basket. "Here, why don't you have some… oh, right."
Lelouch vi Britannia Finally Awakens From His Slumber
The words are written big and bright and bold on the bottom of the screen, with the picture of the aforementioned prince on the corner, as the anchorwoman goes on with enlightening all of Britannia on the prince's current situation.
"While we thank the heavens His Highness has finally regained consciousness, we are unable to dispel our worries as the disease leaves him in a rather debilitated state. However, we are being assured that His Highness is being provided all healthcare resources to ensure an ending to his enervation and the preservation of haleness. We continue wishing and praying that no harm falls upon His Highness, and that he is freed from the clutches of the Hanahaki Disease with the joyous declaration of his love, though we can easily say with His Highness being the dashing, intuitive personage he is, it won't be long before enough love is bestowed upon him to cure him."
Shirley doesn't know why she felt an overwhelming rush of relief upon knowing Prince Lelouch was finally awake, or why she felt immense despair in the two ghastly days in which he was unconscious. Given that she isn't a big fan of the Dark Prince, she shouldn't be wasting her time being concerned with his life.
She's been wrestling with her own thoughts for the past two days. She, just like other girls, had a thing for the eleventh prince, but it's all in the past now. She knew for a fact that her silly little crush never would have worked out and decided to discard her feelings. Still, she couldn't help the slivers of panic that entered her chest when she came to know of Lelouch's painful incident, couldn't help having her thoughts occupied by him all day.
But now Shirley can ill afford to have the prince on her mind. She made a choice back then, and she's going to stick to it.
At least for as long as her heart can be fooled.
The chilly, tranquil afternoon finds Lelouch on a terrace overlooking the garden, at a small table, having tea and biscuits with Nunnally. His sister had only woken up when he'd gone back to sleep and, upon finding out Lelouch had woken, made preparations for some quality time together.
Lelouch was overwhelmed with gratitude though he expects no less from his angel of a sister. Some peace and quiet and light grub are exactly what he needs at the moment.
"You scared me, big brother," Nunnally says, adding sugar cubes to her tea. "They told me what happened to you and I couldn't believe it, and as the days passed I really thought you weren't going to wake up."
"My apologies, Nunnally," Lelouch smiles, feeling his heart ache at the thought of his sister worrying for his wellbeing. "But I'm awake now. There's no more for you to be concerned about."
"I truly hope there isn't." Nunnally takes a small sip of tea. "I still don't understand how you suffered so badly. I didn't know the Hanahaki Disease could be so painful."
"It varies from person to person," the violet-eyed boy sighs. "For some people it feels delightful, for others it feels painful. Some even say that it doesn't feel like anything at all." He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the gentle wind carry what it can from his fatigue.
"I also don't understand how you got the disease in the first place. The recipients are those who are victims of one-sided love, and that would mean that there's someone out there who doesn't love you. Quite hard to believe."
Lelouch laughs even though it pains him. He slowly runs his finger through the caramel waves of his sister's hair, and locks his violets with her lilacs when he says, "The heart can only be satisfied by so much, Nunnally."
For a moment the two just sat in silence, unspoken words of solace exchanged between them. The biscuits were a little too dry for the convenience of Lelouch's throat so he decided to help himself with the tea instead. The sweet, hot drink going down his throat was truly blissful. But the tranquility that settles within him threatens to leave when he notices that Nunnally is too quiet, and the furrow of her eyebrows doesn't help.
"Is something the matter, Nunnally?" Lelouch asks.
"S-say, big brother…" Nunnally says in a low voice. "You're not considering going for the surgery, are you?"
Lelouch's lips press into a tight line. It was one of the first things that had come to his mind when he'd had the time to think. He still hasn't set his mind on anything but it's hard not to make a choice when he thinks of those agonising moments where he lay on the floor, screaming and coughing.
He takes note of Nunnally's agitation and quickly shakes his head as he reaches for her hand. "I'm not really considering anything at the moment, Nunnally. But I don't think I'll be going for the surgery. I… I caught those feelings for a reason, and that's the same reason I shouldn't discard them."
Nunnally's face lights up. "That's exactly what I'd expect of you, Lelouch," she smiles, tightening her grip on his hand. "Still, are you willing to go through that pain again?"
"The light is at the end of the tunnel." Lelouch runs his finger along the brim of his teacup. He finds himself surprised that he is actually speaking the truth. While it is tempting to get rid of the pain for good, Lelouch can't repudiate his feelings, and he does want to know who captivated him more than anything in the world.
"You always know the right thing to say," Nunnally says as she reaches for another biscuit. "Which reminds me, there's something I need to tell you. I have a friend coming over tomorrow."
"Oh?" Lelouch lifts his eyebrows. "Is it Kaguya?"
"N-no, big brother. I'm having a new friend over. Her name is Shirley Fenette."
Lelouch takes a moment to place the name. He remembers the one commoner girl whom everyone stayed away from at the royal ball, but decides not to refer to her using her status. "Was she the one from the royal ball?"
"That's her. I saw her walking by herself in the royal ball. She came across as a really nice person, and it was sad to see her all alone so I invited her over so we can spend some time together. She accepted and seemed very happy about it. It appears that the other royals weren't very kind to her."
"That was a wonderful thing of you to do, Nunnally. Your kindness is equivalent to that of the entire world." Lelouch smiles at his sister.
"But she's a commoner, big brother. While that doesn't change the way I feel about her, you know of the things people say about us whenever we—"
"That's not something you should spare attention for. If having Shirley over makes you happy then do it and don't pay heed to anything anyone says. Don't give up on your happiness, Nunnally."
Nunnally smiles, "That's what you always tell me." She sips more tea. "Remember that time in the garden when I was trying to catch a butterfly and kept running after it until I gave up? I'd just sat under the tree and you ran at me and told me not to give up, not to lose hope. The moment you said those words the butterfly flew at me and landed right on my finger."
Lelouch lightly chuckles. "How can I forget?"
The silence returns and now it's more enjoyable. Lelouch relishes the feel of the sunlight on his skin, the wind through his hair. He decides to finish his tea before it gets cooler, and lifts the cup to his lips to take a sip.
The tea doesn't go down his throat.
It instead juts right out of his mouth with a violent cough. He drops the cup on the floor and can hear it shatter. He is well aware of Nunnally shrieking and Suzaku running at him but that was when the pain took over. Lelouch doubles over, harshly coughing, feeling more air coming out than going in.
He can feel Suzaku put a hand to his chest. He reaches for Suzaku's hand and squeezes the knight's wrist with all his might, taking out the pain he feels. He turns to Suzaku, hoping the chocolate-haired boy can comprehend what Lelouch conveys through the desperation in his eyes, the hard grit of his teeth, and the screams muffled in his throat.
Suzaku immediately understands and rushes to get Nunnally out of the terrace. Lelouch could hear Nunnally's protests and it didn't help with his pain. Several guards were already headed Lelouch's way before Suzaku had even gotten out.
Lelouch grips the fabric of the table cover fiercely, his free hand balling into a fist and slamming the table repeatedly as his coughs multiply. He feels like a thousand needles are pricking his lungs and throat at once. Tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly his lungs constrict, and he finally feels the familiar coolness and smoothness of the petals as they climb up his throat. His coughs get deeper and wetter, and with shooting pain the flower petals jut out of his mouth.
Relief floods through Lelouch almost immediately. He fills his lungs with as much air as they can take as his surroundings gradually come into focus. He can feel hands on his back and can hear beckons of his name, as well as the horrendous taste of blood in his mouth. He slowly lifts his head, the action causing a great deal of pain, to stare at the table top.
He'd knocked over the vase and the teapot. The cover of the table was soaked through with water, tea and blood.
So much blood.
And the protruding sight was the pool of blood right at the edge of the table, where the last of his coughs had been aimed. The blood was starting to drip on the floor. There were several flower petals this time, all swarmed in blood.
And they were beautiful petals. Beautiful petals grown from an ugly flower.
A passionate jolt of his body awakens Lelouch. He gasps, feeling life slowly seep back into his being though with it the pain returns. Dread washes over him when he realises where he is. He is back at the eerie abyss of darkness, thorny vines wrapped around him and tying him to the ground. He slowly sits up, hissing when the vines get further buried into his bloody skin as a result of his movement. He pants, getting dizzy from the pain. Part of him wishes he'd be unconscious again.
He wonders how and when he got in this place, whatever is it, and why he keeps ending up in it. He struggles to get out of the vines tied around him but renders it impossible; if he moves too much the vines might just cut him enough to kill him. There has to be something he can do.
Something.
Somehow.
Someone.
Lelouch's eyes widen. There is someone with him. That he remembers. He jerks his head around in search for that person and his heart skips a beat when he spots them, sitting a distance away from him.
"Hey!" Lelouch calls out, his voice eerily bouncing around. "Help me out!" he shifts a little in place to emphasise the assistance he needs.
At first there was nothing, not a word and not a move. Lelouch was about to call out again when the person stood tall and slowly walked towards him.
Walking towards him was a mere silhouette of a human being, looking like light bent to shape a naked human body. Only the outlines were defined, leaving the rest of the body deprived of details, all smooth and white like molten marble. The long hair that flowed past the waist and the curvature of breasts were the only implications that she was a girl.
Lelouch narrows his eyes against the silhouette, the luminosity being much too intense for his eyes to take. She was the only source of light in the dark abyss but Lelouch doubted her light would be rendered any weaker if she were standing next to a star. She was now standing right in front of Lelouch. She nudged a single vine tying Lelouch's foot and the violet-eyed boy watches with utmost amazement as the vine disintegrates. All it had taken was a single touch…
Lelouch looks up at the bright figure in front of him in absolute astonishment. "Please free me," he begs.
A bright hand reached for his face, but it was when the hand was mere centimetres from his face that everything flew apart and away.
Lelouch tries to reach for the hand that was right in front of him, but opens his eyes to find himself reaching for thin air. He slowly sits up, looking around in confusion as he finds himself in his own room when he could have sworn he was somewhere else just now. He coughs a few times, feeling like matchsticks are being lit in his throat.
"Your Highness?" someone calls almost immediately after Lelouch coughed, and the prince sees his knight stride into his room and towards him.
"Suzaku… what happened to me?" Lelouch asks, hating how most things that happen to him go unremembered.
"The disease had another strike, Your Highness. Though you didn't lose consciousness this time; you probably fell asleep while being carried to your room."
"That's progress indeed," Lelouch grumbles.
"The little adds up down the line, Your Highness. Isn't that what you always say?"
"Ah, yes, my own boneheaded wisdom backfiring at me." Lelouch kicks off his sheets and means to get out of bed but Suzaku is quick to stop him.
"I wouldn't recommend that, Your Highness," Suzaku says. "You are rather fatigued at the moment. You could use more rest."
"Believe me, I am very much cajoled into staying in bed but I need to get up and undertake any activity to clear my mind."
"That's wonderful," a loud, colourful voice chimes in and Lelouch turns to see Clovis at the door, leaning against the frame. "And here I was thinking I was going to have to force you out of bed."
Lelouch should've stayed in bed.
While the prince didn't want to be locked up with his thoughts, now that he looks back to it, this appears to have been a much better alternative to whatever Clovis has in store for him. The blond hasn't revealed anything regarding his plans, only that it will "effectively aid" Lelouch in "search for an end to the disease", though Lelouch doubts that would be anywhere near the truth and it doesn't help when he notices Clovis is leading them to his art room.
They enter the lavish, capacious room, and Lelouch immediately makes his way to the bench situated by the window. He seats himself, feeling exhausted from the long walk. Clovis shuts the door and leisurely walks near the wall where his many paintings are hung. He examines one of the paintings as if he's never seen it before, gently running the tips of his gloved fingers on the canvas.
Lelouch inhales sharply. "I swear if you've made me walk all this way just so we can admire your paintings—"
"Oh no no no," Clovis turns away from the painting. "I love admiring my art as much as the next person but today we have a different commission, and that is to figure out who is it you're in love with."
"And just how are we going to do that?"
Clovis turns back to the painting. It was illustration was that of a waterfall, pouring into a wide lake the sparkled in the sun, an effect Clovis captured quite brilliantly. Around the spacious lake was a green land, topped up with a cascade of flowers and some small animals here and there. The painting seemed to be bursting with life.
"Do you know this place, Lelouch?" Clovis asks.
"What does this have to do with—?"
"Just answer the question."
Lelouch holds back a sigh of irritation as he thinks. He's been to several picturesque landscapes in several different countries, but doesn't recall seeing the waterfall captured in the painting or anything resembling it.
"No."
"Have you ever been there?"
"No."
"Neither have I."
Lelouch almost jumps from surprise. Clovis does have some masterly art skills but it doesn't seem likely that even he would capture such a scene so perfectly if he hadn't at least seen it in real life.
"I don't even know what this place is," Clovis strolls away from the painting. "Does it seem possible that I can capture it without even knowing what it is?"
"Not remotely."
"Exactly," Clovis smiles. "But that's the beauty of art, Lelouch. Anything is possible." He sits next to Lelouch. "When I meant to draw this place, my objective was to draw a place where distress wouldn't exist, a place where any man can go and have his worries be lost to sight. A place where you'd just go and stare, drinking up the beauty till the end of time. And that's what you will do right now."
Lelouch stares at his brother. "I don't exactly follow you."
"Listen, Lelouch. It might be a fragment, a shred, but the image of the person you're in love with is somewhere in your mind. It's buried deep, very deep, but that's what art is for; for digging up the flakes of desires extending far down the mind."
"So you're telling me to draw the person I developed feelings for?"
"It's easier than you think."
"It's unlikelier than you think."
If Clovis pay's any heed to Lelouch's comment he doesn't show it, and he only hands Lelouch a paper and a newly-sharpened pencil before getting up and continuing his leisure walk.
"I want you to empty your head of everything, Lelouch, and picture the epitome of love."
Lelouch fiddles with the pencil in his hand. "The what?"
"Every0ne is beautiful, but not many people can capture your heart. Some people stand out, and even though they might be as beautiful as everyone else, in your eyes they appear to be more captivating, and they can easily find a pathway to your affection. That's why when drawing beauty, just anyone can come into your mind. But when drawing love, there are only so many choices. So I'm asking you not to draw someone who's beautiful, but someone who can capture your heart."
"Was that how you came to draw that self-portrait over there?"
Clovis doesn't even turn to know which painting Lelouch is talking about. He lifts his chin and puts one hand to his chest while the other one holds an invisible flower, an imitation of the pose he mustered in the painting.
Lelouch shakes his head. "I don't think I can do it."
"You'll have to be patient with yourself. You can't force the image to come to you. You have to let it come with will of its own."
Taking a deep breath, Lelouch closes his eyes and allows himself to conjure the image. As much as he hates to admit it Clovis's words are logical, and this is a rather plausible way of figuring out who Lelouch is in love with.
He presses the tip of the pencil against the paper, and Clovis gives a delightful gasp. There is a mutual feeling of eagerness and anticipation, and Lelouch tightens his grip on the pencil.
But a moment later the graphite snaps under the force of Lelouch's hand. The prince sighs as he throws the paper and pencil aside before running his hands through his hair.
"Why did you do that?" Clovis screeches.
"Because this is not going to work," Lelouch says, more to himself than his brother. How could he be idiotic enough to believe this was actually going to work and he was actually going to figure out who he is in love with with such ease?
"But you have to be patient—"
"Well too bad because I happen to have very thin patience." Lelouch gets up. "How about I go take a nap and maybe the epitome of love will show up in my dreams?"
Clovis doesn't seem to catch on Lelouch's mockery. "That is actually a warrantable approach."
Lelouch storms out of the art room and marches back to his room.
Lelouch exhales a sigh the size of the world as he flops on his bed. He takes a moment to reduce his heart and breathing rate, to wait for the pounding in his head to subside. He still couldn't believe he had confidence in Clovis's plan, confidence that he will finally be freed from this cruel disease.
It was too much to hope for. It doesn't seem likely that his suffering will end soon.
He closes his eyes and means to go to sleep but his thoughts are much too spirited to allow him to rest.
Everyone is beautiful, but not many people can capture your heart.
Lelouch sits up. It is true that he met many people who were unbelievably gorgeous, but he'd never developed feelings for them. Only one person has managed to have his guard down and captivate him to the extent that he is now a recipient of the Hanahaki Disease.
He reaches for his nightstand and grabs a pencil and a paper. He lifts his knees to his chest so he can lean the paper on it. He closes his eyes and waits for the epitome of love to form in his mind.
The image forms almost immediately.
Lelouch keeps his eyes closed, keeps hold of the image, and his hand moves with a mind of its own.
Her lips were curved into a smile so bright it would have put the sun to shame. Her eyes were big, full of kindness, full of warmth. Her hair cascaded a long distance, almost brushing her knees. A few strands extended haphazardly, like the wind was blowing through them. Her bangs were also set in an eerie wave.
She was wearing a sleeveless dress that fell to her knees. There were ribbons in hear hair, around her neck, circling her legs, flowing all around her. There were also flower petals circulating her, a touch too scathing to Lelouch's liking.
She had her arm extended in Lelouch's direction, as if she was beckoning him to come forward, and if that were the case Lelouch doubted he'd refuse. She also had wings that resembled that of an angel's, something that Lelouch compulsively draws.
The prince slowly opens his eyes to behold his sketch. He stares at it, bewildered at the fact that he actually managed to convey the image in his mind.
An image that isn't real enough to cure him.
Lelouch shakes his head at his own foolishness as he rumples the paper and throws it into the bin.
This epitome of love has no chances of existing, much less chances of freeing Lelouch from this unending nightmare.