Chapter IX
Cold violet eyes that had never once reflected warmth surveyed the sleek sedan that had pulled up by the sweeping staircase of the Schachmatt. Safe in his castle, Schneizel watched with an unfathomable expression as a small boy of four, blessed with his mother's hair and cursed with his father's cold eyes, was ushered into the waiting car. He was quickly followed by his nanny, his right hand's assistant, and his wife's seneschal.
He had refrained from bidding the child goodbye. He was aware of the gap separating them, and though he didn't especially care, he had no desire to leave him with a bad impression. It could be a long time before the boy would be allowed home, and Schneizel knew that he could prove to be of great use to both himself and the Weiss Ritter, come a decade or two. Perhaps even sooner, if his predictions weren't completely off. In place of wishing him goodbye and good luck, however, Schneizel turned to his consigliore, who had been quietly standing before the bureau of his private study.
"Kanon."
"Yes, my lord?"
"Please notify R-2 of the recent development. You may now make the necessary arrangements for their transfer."
"Yes, my lord."
Schneizel was far from kind. Very few things interested him and even fewer did he enjoy. His relationship with his wife, however, was one of those rare things that genuinely amused him. And because it was so rare, he would do anything to protect her, to safeguard her. He would sacrifice a rook, if need be, in order to the save the queen. And he knew that he wasn't alone in this. He couldn't be; not with their history. Not with Lelouch Lamperouge's enduring feelings.
. . .
A woman with a petite figure and a heart-shaped face clung to her husband's arm as they passed through the airport, as if she were frightened out of her skin. He smiled down at her, patting her arm in a comforting gesture before asking her something, to which she replied with a weak smile. The man affectionately kissed his wife as they walked away to their terminal, C.C.'s eyes following them until they turned the corner and were out of sight. Safe in the executive lounge specifically reserved for those who belonged to the first class, she felt a pang in her heart as she glanced at the man besides her, to whom she had been disguised as his sister-in-law. He was busy staring at his watch, pointedly avoiding the couple who had caught her own interest.
Miserable, she tried to count her blessings. In a matter of a few hours, she'd finally be able to see her son. She'd finally be able to hold him, to smooth his hair and listen as he described what fantastical journeys he and Charlie had had. And Lelouch, no matter how cold he was right now, had obviously gotten well enough to make the long drive to the international airport without throwing up as he had done the evening before. For how long his health would hold, she didn't know, but at least for the time being, he wasn't teetering on the brink of life and death. Even if she couldn't quite be with him in the way she wanted, he was at least alive.
Because they couldn't be together. Not yet, anyway. How did she know? How else could their fake papers have been delivered to that tiny apartment that was now marked with the sin of their lust in her memory? How else could Lelouch have passed through the tight security of the airport without any trouble whatsoever, in spite of the loaded gun hidden by the jacket of his suit? She could practically feel the eyes of her husband on her, watching her every move and taking note of whatever offense she might cause to their wedding vows. She shuddered to think what would become of the man besides her if she were to slip up.
Even when they had boarded the plane, she couldn't help but feel that the stewards were her husband's eyes and the other passengers were her husband's ears, straining to hear the slightest waver in her voice or the subtlest inflection to use against her in a claim of adultery. Not that she had ever cheated. Because she hadn't. A long time ago, C.C. had promised herself to one man, and never once had she broken that vow. No matter what had happened or how far they had been from one another, her heart had always belonged to him. It had never once wavered during the past four years, and now that they were together again, now that he was before her… C.C. had remained faithful in spite of what trials and tribulations she had been forced to undergo. She was not an adulterer.
She looked besides her to the man who she had given herself to, only to discover how tense he was. Nervously avoiding her gaze, he drummed his fingers as he refused to allow her to see his expression by looking out the window of the plane and at the landscape drenched in darkness. A faint memory of her teasing him as they waited to board several years ago emerged; some things never changed, did they? Like his discomfort for flying, even with all of the international conferences he had probably had as the capobastone.
She knew that she shouldn't, that it was wrong to give such false hope to both herself and to him, but she asked for a cup of lemon tea anyway. She asked for some warm tea from the stewardess, and some sugar since his sweet tooth probably remained, and silently gave it to him. He was agitated when he glanced at her, but the moment he saw her offering, his expression changed. Barely, but just enough for her to have risked her husband's ire. Just enough for her to glimpse those warm violet eyes she had so loved before they returned to the window.
. . .
His exhaustion contributed to his already quiet disposition, so he merely listened as Jeremiah assured his mistress that the young master was safe and sound, with not a hair on his head harmed. He glanced at her, silently taking note of the relief that possessed her body. How would she be once they arrived at the villa and was able to see and hold the child, he wondered, if she reacted so violently to mere news? Lelouch knew that she loved her son, but he had never realized just how much he meant to her. Not even the tears from a day ago – had it really only been a day? – had been able to tell him what the bright light in her eyes did. She looked herself for once, like the way she had been before life had become a living hell. The thought made him feel strange – to think that not even he or Schneizel could compare to this child. It would have made him laugh if the notion hadn't seemed so foreign and alien.
Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a small metallic case. Uncapping a bottle of water, he quickly swallowed one, then two, then a third pill. He was still recovering from the bad spell he had suffered, but with the medication Lloyd had given him, he was starting to feel himself again – or as close to his broken self as he had been. When he capped the water, he realized she was staring at him but made no comment and simply looked out the window at the passing scenery. He had no inclination to make small talk. Such demands strained him, especially if it was her, and now, on the brink of seeing the human evidence of their tragedy, he couldn't care less for what was proper and what was improper in the unforgiving eyes of society.
He felt that he should prepare himself. But how could one prepare oneself for something that they knew nothing of? Lelouch hadn't even been aware of the child's existence until a mere two days before, and even that had been through an extraordinary series of events. He could have never found out. He could have lived the rest of his life without knowing that a child had been born of Schneizel's blood if these specific circumstances had never come to be. But they had, and here he was, in the car, speeding towards a boy whose only purpose seemed to be to serve as a reminder for his tragedy.
He resolved himself to apathy. He had yet to receive an answer from C.C. as to what would become of their relationship. He would make no effort in becoming close to the boy. As Lelouch had been so well-taught, caring for someone would only bring about pain and heartbreak, and he knew he couldn't withstand another tragedy. He would protect him, but he would do so from the shadows. The boy had his mother. She would be enough light in his world to create the darkness that the man had slunk into all those years ago.
. . .
Jeremiah wasn't all too familiar with Lelouch Lamperouge. They travelled in different circles after all, with his position of the second highest ranking member of the Weiss Ritter and his own as the Madame's aide. But he would be lying if he said that he had never heard of the stories of the capobastone, of his cold-hearted ways and lack of empathy. Nearly psychopathic, his colleagues had whispered, with the way he so mercilessly and expressionlessly ordered the excruciating murder of various human lives. A sadist and a monster who disgusted even his mother, they often said to one another in half-baked jokes. And while Jeremiah wasn't one to pass judgment based off of wild rumors, he had to admit that he was rather surprised by the sadistic monster. Because the one who lingered outside of the grand villa didn't seem like a psychopath at all. On the contrary, he seemed rather human, if anything.
Of course, he kept such thoughts to himself and simply reported the current security measures that were in place, as well as a description of their new environment, but as they stood together in the courtyard, he couldn't help but wonder what those whispered stories had been based off of. The man was so gaunt, looked so tired and…and vulnerable that it was rather difficult to picture him splattered in the crimson blood of his victims with a wicked smirk on his currently pursed lips.
But Jeremiah wasn't new. He had been in the family for a long time – even longer than Mr. Lamperouge had – and he knew that there were those anomalies who, though they looked weak, were often the ones left standing while smiling triumphantly. There was a reason why he had been made the capobastone so quickly. The Weiss König was a clever man, and a perceptive one, and it certainly hadn't been by chance that Lelouch Lamperouge had risen so high so quickly. He didn't know now, but Jeremiah knew that as time passed and they spent more time together, he would discover the true nature of the man. But until then, he simply bowed and bid him a good afternoon.
. . .
The small boy didn't notice the man who appeared in the doorway. He was far too overjoyed by the arrival of his mother to care or notice. For why should he care for a complete stranger when he was finally reunited with his mother's gentle smiles and lilting voice, her sweet perfume and warm hugs? In all his excitement, he had even forgotten his beloved and inseparable companion, Charlie the stuffed weasel, in the kitchen where he had been having a small snack so as to avoid completely spoiling his appetite for dinner until Sayoko told him that she had arrived. To which he had immediately clambered out of his seat and ran to the grand double doors as fast as his little legs could carry him and then anxiously listened to the sound of doors closing and gravel crunching underfoot. Butterflies in his tummy, he had waited and waited for the doors to open to show him what he wanted most in the world.
And so, Leopold didn't see the man in the doorway. He missed the strange expression that passed over his face as the man watched the love of his life genuinely smile for the first time ever since four years ago. He missed him clenching his jaw and pursing his lips. And he most definitely missed the slight twitch of the man's fingers as he quietly and quickly escaped to his room, almost as if he were craving for the sinful relief of smoke. But what did Leopold Corabelle care what effect he had on such a man? Lelouch Lamperouge was, after all, just a shadow of a man, something that didn't belong in the world of a boy that was filled only with light and dark.