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Chapter Three:
"DAMN IT ALL, he is heavy…!"
"…if you were going to complain this much… then why did you insist upon dragging him out here…?"
Two female voices. Talking loudly above him. About him…? Suzaku felt he was floating, swinging lifelessly and slowly through dark space…
…where the HELL was he?
"I couldn't carry him all by myself out from the marketplace, you know…!"
…that pissed off snarl... it almost sounded like—
"Kallen?" Suzaku managed weakly through his meddled and somewhat painful consciousness, squinting an eye through the clearing fuzz that was his vision. The full-figured girl with two short, thick red braids carrying him — still grasping at his limp hands — let out a relieved breath. And then proceeded to let go of him, allowing gravity to send Suzaku's limp head crashing to the ground.
Despite what would soon set the world record for the nastiest bruise... Suzaku supposed that he should have been counting his blessings that the Knightmares hadn't killed him in the process. "I thought the point was to get him OUT of danger," remarked the other girl's voice.
Kallen send a scowl as Suzaku's vision tried to clear again.
This time he stared up at this girl (with a lot of lime-green hair framing her slim face) leaning over him with bored, amber eyes. She snapped her fingers centimeters from his nose. He blinked alarmed at the sudden motion and how… like magic… the agony was dismissed from his head and replaced with a low throb.
"What happened to you, Suzaku?" Kallen did not catch the exchange between the boy and girl, watching him concerned as he gingerly felt himself over. "I found you lying unconscious in one of the alleyways. Were you attacked by dealers? Did you see who did it?"
Hands. Rough. Holding him steadfast. Lelouch looked so… helpless in those men's arms… and then the world went black…
"No," Suzaku said, closing his eyes and smiling lightly to show that he was alright; yes, he was lying but he couldn't afford to talk about what exactly happened in mixed company. He was thankful, however, for the cool and relaxing breeze floating around the field they were in as it gently touched his sweating face.
"To tell you the truth… my brain still feels a little rattled at the moment…"
"Are you sure you are okay though?" Kallen insisted, "You look pale..."
He repeated, still patting the space where a bump should have been (how in the world did she…?), "Don't worry about me. Besides, shouldn't you be more worried about being caught helping me back there? Your aristocratic reputation would be tarnished if you were seen with someone who was Japanese."
"—cut the crap, Suzaku," The red-haired girl crossed her arms under her fleece bodice huffily, frosty blue eyes narrowing with displeasure, "you know damn well that I am half Japanese by my own right."
"But the nobles don't. And your Father would get upset."
"Don't worry about what my Father thinks. You know I don't—oh for the love of your parents—what is so FASCINATING?" Kallen snapped irritably at Suzaku (no longer concerned for his well being), who pulled his bedeviled gaze from the green-haired girl paused from twisting dandelion stems around her wrists solemnly.
"Is she a friend of yours?" he offered.
Kallen kept her tightened hold under her prominent bosom, speaking sulkily out of the corner of her mouth, "...I should be inquiring that question to you instead… with the way you gawk at her…"
"That is the problem with this country. Such strict regulations on everyday behavior... if I did something like this in a busy street corner…" The other girl hiked up her own black, wool skirts, exposing one side of her thigh (Suzaku's eyes went as large as carriage wheels; the red-haired girl sputtering her horror as her face lit up to a similar shade of her hair color)— "I'd have my head lopped off."
"Where you…come from…do…people act like that regularly?" Kallen asked through her hands as the girl dropped her skirts back into place.
"I wouldn't have my head lopped off," she replied, her golden-amber eyes shining with an abnormal amount of self-satisfaction. "I don't have a name if you were wondering. I'm not from anywhere particular either. I have forgotten anything to do with being a mortal. I've been called a great many things in my lifetime, but above all else, I have been called 'Witch'."
(…A witch? Like in storybooks? With cauldrons?) Suzaku dredged up from the Britannian nursery rhymes that his mother had retold from her own memory that witches were depicted as decrepit, old hermit-women with facial abnormalities. This was most certainly not the case.
...at the very least … she was helpful… his head wasn't hurting so badly anymore…
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"Miss Witch!"
She was starting to leave the fields outside the marketplace come sunset, as Kallen took her leave from them, and Suzaku raced after this green-haired immortal.
Dandelions and purple wildflowers twined elegantly to both of her wrists and up to her left upper arm tattooed with a strange, red symbol. Suzaku almost mistook it for a distant bird in flight. "What do I look like to you, boy?" Her lips curled into a queer, little smile. "A fairy godmother?"
She leaned on his shoulder, tilting her face to the underside of his jaw as he froze at the sudden intrusion, at the intimacy of her eyelashes quivering on his skin. "I don't make contracts with others or owe debts to any living man. The place you seek is the Acre Wood. It is not far from your master's estate. When you discover that you no longer have a place to belong, to turn to anymore, it is your best option."
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Deep from his personal musings— treading up the pebble and sand-sewn path to the doorway of his stepfather's home (or was it really?...? his head was starting to hurt again thinking about it) — Suzaku answered back wryly to her memory, "There is no place I belong."
"There you are, Cinder-aku!"
From the parlor, Bradley said gaily, "Father has been summoning for you. You'd better hurry before you are thrashed beyond comprehension..."
Not reassured by how his stepbrother's eggplant-colored eyes were gleaming like tiny daggers, Suzaku did as he was told anyway. He gave a lingering bow to the massive, festooned build of his stepfather facing him by the parlor's fireplace's mantle, tapping his beefy fingers impatiently on his velvet tunic.
"Where are your bloody manners, you ignorant piece of trash? Is callow silence any way to greet the accomplished and generous Master of your household?"
"My apologies, my Lord," Suzaku mumbled, his upper body still lowered to face the floor.
"Did you happen to forget something in the marketplace today?"
Emerald green eyes widened in dismay as it hit him. (The runaway oranges… the bags of groceries…)
Suzaku raised his head, opening his mouth, and uttered a pained groan as Charles punched him brutally and square in his stomach. He heard Bradley gasp behind him in delight as a volley of continued kicks and punches — tearing the helpless skin in his face open with the sharp edgings of expensive and chunky rings — and the man sent his nephew headlong into the carpet, clenching his aching body.
This is what I deserve…... this punishment…
He knew he could easily escape his stepfather. And Bradley. Physically, he knew he was not weak.
One of his green eyes began to swell up in its socket. Suzaku held his breath as his limbs numbed.
…is all I have to repent…
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The back garden's towering angel atop the center fountain wept steadily. The temperate water streamed down the porcelain base to the lowest basin where Lelouch touched the flats of his palms to the bottom of it. The misty vapor coming off, from a wind picking up from the west of the castle grounds, kissed his temples lightly.
Someone with dainty heels came up behind him with meek but purposeful steps. "Are you still furious with me, Lelouch?"
He turned his head towards her. Euphemia twisted something (probably a handkerchief) behind her back frantically, chewing on her slowly-beginning-to-redden lower lip as she tried to gauge his manner. From behind her, a good foot away, their older sister Cornelia watched them thoughtfully.
He explained blankly that he was feeling far too troubled to be mad at the present moment.
Euphemia made an understandable noise, sitting down on the rim of the basin where Lelouch still hunched over elbow deep in fountain water, "Do you still remember when Nana threw fits when you left the grounds to travel? No one would be able to console her until you had returned or until she passed out from exhaustion after destroying everything she could get her hands on. I saw what Nana did to some very good quality swan-feather pillows when she got worked up enough…"
Her lavender eyes peered up up sadly at the gilded name below the angel.
"The accident was horrible. Everyone knew that. I still remember coming downstairs that morning and Father had her in his arms—"
"Euphemia!" Her sister barked, and Euphemia flinched. "Now is not the time for this!" Cornelia marched up to Lelouch who looked instead at her expressionlessly, as she ground out, "Lelouch, I need to see you inside about an important matter. Get your hands out of Nunnally's grave—I apologize for my harshness but it's becoming increasingly unhealthy for someone like you, the one to be next to ascend the throne, to be lingering at this fountain like a mourning lover."
"She was your sister as well, Highness," Lelouch's eyes darkened, returning to emotion.
She grasped one of his arm, yanking him dripping towards the palace and leaving their sister to fret by herself.
"I've accepted her passing. The rest of our family has. Lelouch, you are the only one," Cornelia said, iris-colored eyes softening as they entered one of the Eastern drawing rooms, as he retched himself from her clasp on him and rubbed at his sore arm.
"I ask you to hold back on that for the time being, and listen to what I have to tell you." He yelped as one of her hands messed with his black, silky hair, making a grouchy face at her as she gave him a rare smile. "Mother and Father wanted me to show you what you would be wearing at your masquerade ball tomorrow."
His sister's smile widened sadistically as Cornelia held it to him proudly. A moment of silence.
He started laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.
"…I think you grabbed Cardine's outfit by mistake, sister dear. There isn't a chance I'd wear something so…" Lelouch emphasized his point by brushing his fingers over the top's hem, "…frilly."
"It is not frill, it is ruffle," she claimed. "But that is not what is important here. It is not a mistake, Mister "Prince Charming" of Britannia. This is what you are wearing tomorrow night. At least for the first half."
"…you do realize you are presenting me… with a dress…?"
"It was the Queen's idea of your punishment in continually breaking the rules."
Lelouch gulped, no longer laughing, eyeing the item in Cornelia's hands as if it would demonically possess him. "If I refuse…then…?"
"Then… she made it clear that the ball would be canceled."
"The invitations are already sent! It would be absolute madness to attempt to retract them!"
"This is no idle threat. You forget who you are dealing with," Cornelia said ominously. "And I need to have you do a fitting to make sure this size is the right one, Queen's orders."
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Euphemia simpered at her guest, poking her head through another door.
"I am almost certain that Cornelia took him here…" she explained. "I did not quite catch what business they were attending to…"
Lady Shirley Fenette said uncertainly, twirling her orange curls between her delicate, freckled fingers, "If my fiancé is too busy, perhaps I could come back another time for a proper visitation…?" Already too caught up in matchmaker mode, Euphemia grinned, waving a similarly delicate hand in her direction in disagreement.
"I know he would be thrilled to see you, dear…! Oh, I think I hear them!" she squealed in a whisper, gesturing the other girl to stand beside her as Euphemia thrust open the double doors to the drawing room. "Dearest brother, I have brought to you on this magnificent day your belove—!"
Her mouth dropped open in shock — at the image of her older sister Cornelia pulling the laces of a corset (a slimming and under-the-bust corset) on her grimacing, little brother, as her siblings gawked back at the pair stock-still in the corridor.
"…oh my word."
Shirley and Lelouch's faces turned beet red immediately after the sentence was finished.
Our story's "Prince Charming" let out a shriek as he crouched down to hide behind a British two-seater. Shirley lowered her canary yellow, summer hat over her face, stammering, "Y-Y-You needn't be ashamed… for someone so lovely, your Highness… I-I-I do not mind if you wear pretty things…"
The evil-doer Cornelia recovered from momentary surprise, laughing at her brother's expense, "See, Lelouch? Even your bride-to-be thinks it suits you…"
Shirley joined in, albeit nervously, hat still lowered.
Euphemia started chewing her lip again.
Lelouch smacked the back of his head against the wood beam of the couch.
Until he saw stars.
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TBC…
Yes. I just ended it there. SUSPENSE! –noms all the new reviews- You guys are the best ever. I swear. I cannot get enough of you.
So…I am going back to school for the spring semester in less than a week so that means I won't have all the free time I have now to write but I will try to give a monthly update. Or I will warn you on my bio. Anyone here watch RomeoxJuliet? I've been getting inspired by the dialogue to keep this going. That, and the series itself is wonderful. By the way, I am lengthening the number of chapters. I think it is going to end up being more than four. But I don't think I'll be hearing a lot of protest against that. xDD ...I am having WAYYYY to much fun writing this story. Thanks for joining the ride, everyone.
The fact that you all ended up voting on who they thought would be in a dress makes me giggly. Lelouch is popular like that. Bwahahahaha… but I will I REALLY make Lelouch wear it? I could change my mind and make Suzaku wear something nice and sparkly and fluffy. Ohohohoho~ Tune in soon to find out, my beauties! -HEARTS-