Initially I wrote this – yes, all of it – in my Blackberry during the Tuesday storm (Hello, Pedring). Strong winds, nonstop rain and blackout all over the Metro. Guess that just gave away where I came from, huh?
This is still a continuation.
I do not own Code Geass. If I did, this wouldn't be a fanfic; this would be canon and I'll make sure it drags on and on and on…
005 – Colors (2013 a.t.b)
Her perfectly arched eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the sight of her brother's self-important smile. Of course he would choose that particular time to play mind games with her. Cornelia watched as he flicked the hair away from his face; it occurred to her how the gesture was so practiced and so... smug.
Say it, Sister. Cornelia could practically hear his thoughts, gloating. Much to her dismay, she knew that there was nobody better suited to help her and either she voice out her concern or she might as well just forget it. Clovis - in her book - was alright. It was just that Cornelia never imagined something so superficial to plague her and at such an inconvenient time, at that. Her shoulder sagged in defeat as her pride deflated. She couldn't bring herself to look at her younger brother, knowing what she would see there: triumph. Finally opening her mouth, Cornelia had to utter the words and vowed to never repeat them again:
"I've nothing to wear."
"I'm flattered that you remember me in times of crisis, Sister." Clovis rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. With the tailor finally separating himself from Clovis' attire of white, gold and lavender, the Third Prince scrutinized his reflection before giving a business-like nod of approval (which Cornelia rolled her eyes at).
With a gloved hand, he took his sister's elbow and proceeded to lead her down the corridor, three doors from his private rooms. There was a seamstress and a maid who tailed them. They stopped at a nondescript door. The young man paused and stared at her long and hard, "These are not supposed to come out until next month, Cornelia. But I suppose I could do with a preview. You have to promise me that should anybody ask, tell them it's one of my pieces, understood?"
"Yes, yes," The Second Princess replied impatiently, not entirely seeing what the fuss is about, but could detect the urgency in his voice. Still, she wasn't about to voice it out.
After the event, there had been nothing to do but wait for the gala. However, she wasn't one to stay idle for hours. Cornelia visited Euphie at school, had brunch with Schneizel, held a telecon with Darlton about the situation in Area Twelve, took a solitary stroll in the silent gardens of Aries Villa before returning to her private rooms. The event later that evening kept nagging her consciousness despite all attempts to keep her busy.
Perhaps her restlessness was a result of Guilford's absence. After all, he always accompanied her from breakfast to late night conversations (or work) over coffee. Perhaps that was where rumors spouted and really, none of them bothered to quell the gossip because it was a waste of time. There was even one that hinted at them sharing a bed (and the activities that go along with it); Guilford had been a gentleman in dealing with that even before she found out (and flipped out) and they never spoke of it again.
What would it be like, if that were true? Thinking about it now makes her stomach flutter in embarrassment.
Still, Guilford was undoubtedly the first one she sees in the morning and the last person to bid her goodnight before they part for a few hours of sleep in their separate apartments.
When Clovis flung the doors open to reveal a spacious room populated with rows of mannequins and racks of clothing, she was brought back to the present. Including her current predicament.
Now that she was seeing the world in a whole new light, she wanted to do things just slightly differently to see how it goes.
Gads, she's turning into a girl by the minute.
"Do you see anything you like?" The corner of his mouth curled into a smug smile - he does love to showcase his work, after all, and his sister was one difficult client. And seeing awe playing on Cornelia's often all-business face could be the biggest form of flattery he's ever encountered this year. How he wished he could take a picture of her, but he very much valued his life.
With doubt manifesting itself in her tone and frown, Cornelia tore her eyes away from the gaudy displays, keeping a safe distance from the mannequins. Being slightly overwhelmed by the materials, colors and details was an understatement. Slowly, "Are all of these wearable, Clovis?"
Hey, they are rather different from what she's used to.
Clovis feigned a scandalized gasp. But upon seeing the unimpressed scowl, he raised an eyebrow of his own. "Of course they are. But to make our lives easier, please answer this for me: May I know who you're dressing up for?"
"Myself, maybe?"
The blonde's eyebrow arched even higher, if it was possible. Cornelia blushed, half annoyed that she could be read pretty easily by somebody who does not pay attention to the world around him. Clovis smirked, "I thought so."
"You thought what, exactly?"
"Allow me to rephrase your previous plea for help: you don't have anything to wear that will impress a guy."
"What guy?" Ah. So she was being defensive.
"Are we seriously playing this game, Sister? Or should we just start looking? Because this–" Clovis dared to point at her from head to toe "–needs work."
Cornelia growled.
"Hm, save the purring when you've pinned him to the bed, Cornelia."
"Clovis!"
"Fine, fine." He waved a hand and started rummaging through the nearest rack, biting back a smile. Cornelia was as uptight and downright dangerous as they can get but she is fun to play with. No wonder Schneizel gets a kick out of shooting her compliments that leave her flustered.
She wandered off on her own, grumbling to herself about having nosy family members and not being able to completely trust anybody (except for Euphie, but she wasn't about to discuss delicate matters with her just yet) not completely willing to touch any of the dresses on display. She didn't know what she was looking for; she just thought that once she presented her current problem to her brother, he would have a ready solution. Admittedly, some were suitable, but most of it was too flamboyant for her taste. She wasn't surprised; they did come from Clovis' imagination, after all. It was suffocating, the sea of brights and pastels, of frills and lace. She had half a mind to turn back.
Then she saw the wine-colored fabric peeking shyly from one of the racks.
Almost unconsciously, she reached out for it, expecting a too-festive monstrosity. She was shocked to find a lovely gown of silk. Slowly, she traced the fabric with her hand, unaware that Clovis was watching. Cornelia almost jumped when Clovis suddenly appeared beside her, holding a white box.
"Excellent choice," He quipped, snatching the gown out of her hands. Cornelia found herself being ushered to another room – a guestroom – where she could vaguely head her brother instructing her to use the bath that was prepared for her. Still slightly disoriented, Cornelia took the white box without question and closed the door behind her.
No, this wasn't planned. At all. At least, that was what he would say when asked. Clovis killed time by obsessively checking his reflection, pacing and occasionally knocking on the bathroom door; it took her almost an hour to finish.
When Cornelia stepped out, ever so reluctant, even he was surprised; surprised enough to bolt out of his chair. Almost excitedly, he took her hand and twirled her around, slowly. Cornelia was known for avoiding anything remotely feminine or sexy and often takes refuge in slightly androgynous and military-inspired outfits. Still, wearing nothing but a silk robe and the lingerie he practically forced on her, it revealed what she managed to hide for years: slender limbs, legs that are longer than forever, flawless skin, a pleasantly toned abdomen (that even he was envious of) and womanly curves as proof of God's generosity (or a result of good genes).
If he becomes a Viceroy, he would decree that women should train in the military to get that figure of hers. "My goodness, Cornelia," Clovis whistles appreciatively at the sight of his sister's svelte form, "Lord Guilford sure has astounding self-control. Are you sure you two haven't–"
She slapped his hand away and shook a fist in his direction. "Stop it right there, Clovis. I swear to make your life miserable if you continue." Still, he didn't miss how her cheeks became redder than they already are.
It was suddenly a light bulb moment for Clovis. "Can I paint you?"
"I am going to shoot you in the head in five seconds if you–"
"No need for violence, Sister. I was just checking. A brother is entitled to at least try and ask." He raised his hands, palms up, as a gesture of mock surrender before nodding at the maid and the seamstress to help Cornelia with the gown. He ignored how she kept squirming as she was being fussed over, shooting him accusing glares every now and then. Clovis was rather preoccupied with making mental notes of the gown's style and how the color worked perfectly with Cornelia's complexion. He suddenly had to wonder what Cornelia would look like in white. When he finally gathered his thoughts and stored it away in the recesses of his mind, he broke into a grin at the sight of her. Granted, when he had the dress made, he had her in mind, but never did he imagine it to be so perfect.
He was rather proud of himself.
"Turn around, please. Slowly."
It was almost predictable for Cornelia to gravitate towards something that was burgundy in color. The dress itself was fairly no-nonsense, with very minimal detailing. The soft fabric hugged her in the right places, showing off every curve of her body before dramatically flaring out into a trumpet-like train from just above her knee to the floor, leaving a decent amount of fabric to pool around her feet. The only extravagant design on the one-shoulder gown was how the single layer of oversized frills was shaped to resemble the delicate petals of a flower, surrounding her left arm, letting it sit comfortably on her shoulder, leaving both her arms bare and her slender right shoulder, exposed. Cornelia's hair was styled and the soft curls were swept to the side, gathered over her bare right shoulder to balance the detail of the dress. The back was fairly low cut, but nothing indecent.
He caught a whiff of her perfume. Floral.
With her eyes – whose color played along the lines of dark blue to purple – framed by long lashes, curved eyebrows, perfect skin, and the natural flush of her cheeks, Cornelia needed no makeup to look stunning. Except maybe for a swipe of color on her lips.
"Hmm," Clovis made a noncommittal sound as he pointed at the box on the vanity table. Quickly, the maid scurried to retrieve it for him. "Finishing touches." He explained, with a smile, showing his sister the contents of the box: a slim diamond choker and an intricately crafted silver cuff bracelet. He knew that she wasn't one for too much jewelry so he opted for the bracelet.
"Has she seen herself?" Clovis rolled his eyes at the sheepish servants and impatiently motioned for a large mirror to be brought forth. "Look." He smirked, urging his sister to at least glance at her reflection.
Cornelia ogled at the stranger who stared back. She – whoever the girl is – was...
"Perfect. You can thank me later. We're not done yet." Her younger brother shot her a charming smile. She wasn't vain, but she found herself agreeing, even if she was unable to voice it out. She knew Clovis could tell that she liked it very much.
Who knew that the Chief General was actually a woman? A disarmingly attractive one, at that. It was baffling.
Gallantly, Clovis offered his arm which Cornelia, out of upbringing and instinct, took graciously. In companionable silence, they stalked the hallways until they've reached the car that will take them to the event. It was no more than a five minute drive. Still, none of them spoke. Cornelia sat unnaturally still and eyed the brightly lit architecture ahead of them. Slipping out before her, Clovis dismissed the servant and opened the door himself, mirroring his previous action of offering his arm to her. The sight of the Third Prince and the Second Princess parted the crowd easily; they bowed, curtsied and murmurs of "Your Highness" trailed behind them as the two passed.
She could feel the eyes lingering on her.
Cornelia suddenly panicked; it's been a long time since she attended one of these things but with Clovis' reassuring look, Cornelia stood tall, proud and beautiful.
"Sister?" The younger muttered. "I've been thinking..."
"Yes, Clovis?" The waltz engulfed them.
For a while, he hesitated. He might not be as brilliant or as promising as Schneizel and Lelouch are and he could be as arrogant as any of the Imperial Children, but it remains that Clovis has a special gift of sensing what most people refused to show. It certainly helped him become popular with women. He could read them easily and thus, charmingly offer them what they need or let them hear what they want. He had seen and felt Cornelia's agitation at the demonstration, particularly when her Knight was at the mercy of the court.
Clovis was not stupid; Guilford has been around for as long as he could remember and he knew that the man loved her. Clovis had no idea how he managed it, but he was quite possibly one of the few who can make her genuinely happy. Cornelia rarely trusted anybody and Guilford was quite possibly the only one outside of the family who earned that trust. Clovis hadn't been sure of Cornelia's feelings, until this morning.
Cornelia, try as she might to hide or deny it, did love him back. She managed to fool the rest into thinking otherwise, but he was one of the few who knew her well enough to know. He wasn't going to judge her for it. In fact, he felt bad for her - the only way they could have a happy ending was either if she was disowned or she denounces her claim as an Imperial Princess or if the Emperor himself would agree to their union and both seemed a tad unlikely.
It was a tragedy worthy of novels. Or a painting. The Princess and her Knight.
It saddened him as reality sunk in. But, he was going to fight it for as long as he could and he will urge her to do the same.
He knew the exact moment when his sister locked eyes with the tall, bespectacled man who was all the way across the room. Clovis felt Cornelia's hand, suddenly gone cold. He watched in awe as there seemed to be an instinctive pull between the two. He could've sworn that there was an involuntary twitch on her part, as if she was itching to close the distance between her and Guilford.
It took all of Clovis' self-control to not laugh as he saw that they matched; Guilford, who was making his way towards them, wore a sharply tailored uniform, reminiscent of the one he wore at his Knighting ceremony. His badge, a proof where his heart and loyalty lies, sat proudly on the lapel.
For the second time that day, he looked at Cornelia seriously, "Sister, I need you to enjoy yourself–" The older of the two made an exasperated sound. "–And by that," Clovis continued, pretending he was not interrupted, "I mean that you should not think of your duties as Second Princess or as Chief General, but as a woman. Even if it does not feel that way, you are entitled to a little bit of happiness, and more so when and because you're in the company of, if not in the arms of, somebody you love. You are aware that it will be a long time before you get a chance to be like this again. For goodness sake, please do not run from him when he tells you or shows you that he loves you because you know he does. I, for one, am not faulting him for it."
He half expected a dismissive retort. However, he was surprised when Cornelia broke into a timid but grateful smile. He was astounded when Cornelia, the proud Second Princess and Chief General of Britannia, kissed his cheek. "Thank you, little brother."
"You're a Princess, Cornelia. Go make your own fairytale even if it will only last for a night." With that, Clovis withdrew his arm and took a step back, nodding in acknowledgment to his sister's Knight as Guilford bowed to him.
Clovis couldn't help the faint smile as he watched the poignant scene of a man kneel before his Princess. Cornelia extended a hand to him, murmuring something he couldn't hear. Clovis watched as the Knight took his Lady's hand and kissed it softly; letting his lips graze her knuckles for as long as he could without being improper. Clovis observed how the smile never left Cornelia's lips and how it reached her eyes, normally hard and unforgiving, now softened with just a hint of what he knew to be what she truly felt, at the sight of her Knight.
When Guilford offered his arm to Cornelia and she accepted it, Clovis knew it was time to find something else to occupy his attention for the rest of the evening.
Ah, how I love inserting little ironies. Can you spot 'em? Thanks for reading!