milk + sugar

02

The sun had long risen before he opened his eyes, and like the previous 6,871 mornings, he wondered where he was. It only ever lasted for a split second, but today, he could have done without clarity. Staring up at the ceiling, he sighed. Clarity would do nothing for him today, on the morning of his final day.

He wondered if he should even bother with getting out of bed. What was the point? Nothing he did today would make a difference tomorrow. For the first time in his life, nothing he said, nothing he did, would count for anything. Such was the blessing and the curse of the dead man walking.

Lelouch turned his head to see if C.C. was still asleep, only for emptiness to greet him. He sat up. He'd lost so many people over the years, he should be used to it now, but the void she left was like nothing before he'd encountered. He'd been considering staying in bed, when he should have jumped out of bed. Throwing the plump duvet back, he stumbled out of bed.

The table had been dutifully set with glimmering crystal and shining silver but all had for nothing. Ignoring the mouthwatering scent of breakfast, Lelouch stormed through the dining room, Jeremiah Gottwald close on his heels. Today he'd foregone his regalia, opting for a crisp white dress shirt and black slacks. Just for today, he would not be emperor. Even if this was everything he'd worked towards, just for his final day, he didn't want to be Zero or Emperor Lelouch or even Lelouch Lamperouge. They were all masks that, while they had served him well, he no longer had any use for, nor the strength to carry – and it made all the difference in his speed.

"My lord-"

"Where's C.C., Jeremiah?"

When there was only silence, Lelouch stopped short. Turning on his heel, he brought Jeremiah to his knees with a mere look. His faithful servant bowed his head.

"Forgive me, my lord. Lady C.C. asked that I not reveal her whereabouts." For his sake, Jeremiah. You understand, don't you? That Lelouch must release himself from all his worldly attachments.

He would not waste what little time he hadn't already. He abandoned Jeremiah readily, leaving him on the cold ground, where the traitor deserved to lay. Bursting through the long corridors of the imperial palace, Lelouch desperately ran through his options. No doubt if Jeremiah wasn't going to tell him, neither would Suzaku. Fine then. He'd find her himself. He'd done it before, and with all the empire's resources at his fingertips, how difficult could it possibly be?

. . .

The frustration was nearly enough to bring him to tears. As he sunk low into his throne, he all but ignored the performance before him. The wealth, extravagance, and beauty of the celebration brought him no joy. Nor was it intended to. Garish gloating rarely ever did, and that was all this senseless exhibition was – the final nail in Emperor Lelouch's coffin.

Moodily, he stared at the gilded chair on his right as it mocked him with its vacancy. Resting his chin in his hand, he glowered. This charade had little need for his part when all guests' eyes glowed red from his indomitable will. Covering his eyes with his hand, he sat still, blind and deaf to everything but his growing agony. Even when Jeremiah bent down to whisper into his ear, he was still. He no longer cared. He could no longer bring himself to.

Silently, he stood and left the ballroom without so much as a word. Behind him, the revelry continued, as if he still presided over the glorious festivities. Jeremiah stared at him but remained still. Nothing would come out of chasing after him. Not when he had already refused him all day.

Trudging through the dark halls, Lelouch made his way to the emperor's wing, when he found the door to the bedroom slightly ajar. Pushing it wider, he stood in the doorway, his heart in his throat. Awash in the moonlight, he found her sitting by the window. Rooted to the spot, he could only stare, as if fearful of his imagination playing tricks on him. Standing, she tried to smile at him. Even in the half-dark, he could see how red her nose was and how puffy her eyes. But it was her voice, watery and broken, that he knew her to be real and true.

"I tried…but I can't. I don't want to."

Crossing the room, he took her into his arms. Holding her close, he pressed her to him. Leaning against his warmth, C.C. closed her eyes.

. . .

They left the palace together and in secret. Dressed in plain civilian clothes, they walked aimlessly along the half-built streets of Pendragon together until they reached one of the stone bridges that crossed the large Charles River that cut through the capital. Tall, ornate lamps studded the stone bridge, casting a surreal glow on everything. Slowing to a stop, Lelouch watched as C.C. continued on without him, the autumn breeze playing with her soft hair and white dress.

It was a scene taken right out of one of those sappy, romantic movies the student council used to watch on Valentine's Day together. The very same movies he'd scoffed and sneered at for their frivolity and insipid displays of shallow connections. Movies contrived of fear and ego, where in a world with cell-phones, the man would chase after the woman at the airport because he just couldn't bear to be honest with her beforehand, or where the woman had misheard a conversation that hadn't been meant for her and broke the unlucky couple apart – all because she refused to ask her lover – her supposed one true love – what he had really meant; whether everything he'd told her had just been sweet nothings, if he'd really meant all those promises he'd made to her.

Lelouch had never been one to believe in reincarnation, or even really bother with such thought experiments. Even if such a thing were to exist, what did it matter when they still had a duty to live this life with purpose? And yet, on the eve of his purpose, he couldn't help but wonder – help but hope – that such a thing did exist. That there was a possibility he could find her once again, amongst those faceless yet forgiven. Maybe he'd be a student again, and he'd tutor that strange girl seated all the way in the back of the classroom. Maybe he'd be a little older and he'd finally muster up the courage to approach that beautiful woman on his daily commute. Or maybe there was nothing after this, but an unending darkness, and this was all they'd have together.

"C.C."

She stopped and turned to face him. Standing at the crest of the bridge, she looked down at him. Her hair fluttered gently in the breeze, and she tucked it behind her ear. Petals from the white cherry blossoms lining the river floated and danced in the air, falling softly like snow. She was still, even when he neared. Tipping her chin up, he looked down at her. For the first time in his life, words failed him, and he didn't care. There was no language, lost or alive, that could carry all that he'd wanted to tell her without the lifetime he'd need to show her, nor describe the depths and breadth of his grief. But there was no need. There had never been a need with her. His grief was her own, and as the petals snowed down on them, he rid himself of all those burdensome words, words he'd only used to build all these half-truths in a misguided attempt to protect themselves, and kissed her softly and honestly.

Her tears fell heavily, gliding down her cheeks and wetting his hands. He let her cry freely and quietly, holding her as she did and protecting her, as he rested his forehead against hers.

. . .

They were not to be disturbed until morning. Jeremiah bowed his head, prepared to faithfully abide by his master's wishes, as his lord led Lady C.C. inside and quietly closed the door behind them.

The imperial palace boasted 102 beautifully appointed bedrooms and suites, of which any were available for whatever use they so desired. All had been visited by the enormous serving staff to discard of his majesty's predecessor, just as they would tomorrow with his own state portraits, but only 6 had been used, despite there being 7 palatial residents. Even with the wide variety available to them, it was unspoken that his majesty's bed was one to be shared – after all, if it was good enough for him, then it was certainly good enough for her.

The emperor's wing befitted the wealth and influence of the Britannian Empire's leader, but the bedroom itself was surprisingly small, understated in its appointment. The large four-poster bed took most of the space, and the marble fireplace was eye-catching, but beyond that, there was little else in the way of accommodations, save for the attached bathroom.

Despite its intimate size, the room was cold when they returned. Lifting up the lid to the ornate box sitting on the mantle, Lelouch knelt down on the thick hearthrug to start a small fire. But with his shaking hands, the heath remained cold. Warm hands took hold of his shoulders before a familiar weight settled on him. Her arms wrapped around him as she leaned against him. Reaching up, he let the matches fall from his hands to take hold of hers.

"Creatures of the dark have no need for light. Isn't that right, Lelouch?"

He lifted his head. Yes, that was right. They had no need when they had each other. Pulling her arms away from him, he turned to look up at her. She was smiling at him benevolently, like an angel. Taking her hand, he returned to his feet.

"Come," she whispered.

The shoes were the first to be abandoned. Slipping out of them, they stepped on and over them as they stumbled towards the bed. Now no longer in her heels, Lelouch looked down at C.C., surprised by the distance between them, by her shoulders that suddenly felt small, by her delicate frame. When had the witch's curse been broken? When had she become nothing more than a woman?

Gathering her in his arms, he bowed his head to see if she still felt and tasted the same as before. Kissing her softly, kissing her sweetly, he marveled. How could this be even sweeter, even lovelier than anything ever before?

He'd worked and sacrificed to make sure that all the world spoke only of his name, and it was his triumph that only his name was on the lips of billions. But the achievement was nothing, fell short, felt cheap, and sounded hollow compared to the way she sighed his name. Clinging tightly to her, he grabbed at her white dress as she tickled his ear with his name.

C.C. held onto him, her knees having long gone weak. She had forgotten what it had felt like to be touched so gently, so lovingly and tenderly. That he was the person to remind her, she was glad and grateful and happy. Holding him close, she closed her eyes as he held her by the waist, his lips traveling down her neck to her collarbone. Taking his hand, she placed it on the small bow holding the bodice of her dress together. He loosened it slowly, pulling on one end of the white cotton. It unraveled with a whisper, and she looked up at him silently as she loosened and untucked his shirt. Reaching up, she made her way down the row of buttons before resting her hands on the buckle of his belt.

"Lelouch."

"Yeah."

Letting her dress fall to the floor and laying her down on the bed, he climbed up, carefully placing his elbows and knees around her. Looking down at her, he traced the curve of her lips with his thumb. Silver moonlight filtered into the room, past sheer curtains half-drawn. His heart racing, he traced her face with his fingertips, as if trying to memorize it. Her golden eyes were wide as she waited with bated breath.

Eyes that had never once wavered from his, he thought to himself. Eyes that he had always searched for first in any room. Eyes that looked upon him with all that a demon like him didn't deserve.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"What for?"

For giving him this power of the king. For standing by his side. For saving him from a meaningless existence. For letting him experience these feelings, even in these last final moments, these desires he wouldn't have experienced otherwise.

"Everything," he said simply. Reaching up, she took hold of his face. Nothing more was exchanged. The time for words had long since passed. His hand traveling up her leg, it slipped beneath the hem of her dress, pulling away anything and everything that may be in their way in their final moments together. Lifting her hips up for him, C.C. wrapped her legs around his waist as soon as her panties slipped from her ankle to the floor. Her hands sliding from his cheeks, down his neck, to his shoulders, she helped him out of his shirt, pushing it off him. No more use did they have for words. In their small bedroom, there was only the sounds of rustling fabric, of the heirloom bedframe softly creaking under shifting weight, of their sighs and half-muffled moans.

C.C. had teased him before, just as she would've teased anyone else, all of which Lelouch had brushed off, sometimes with a jab of his own. But as she lay beneath him at the mercy of his tongue and wandering hands, there was nothing to tease him about. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, becoming a stronger tint when his hands slid down the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips before dipping inwards to the softness of her inner thighs. Gently pulling them apart, he kneaded her thighs, tantalizing her as he slowly led her to their desires.

When his finger first brushed against her and came away wet, surprised flashed across his face. C.C. averted her gaze, turning away, when he tenderly stopped her.

"Don't. I want to see your face."

It wasn't like her to wordlessly flush but rendered speechless by his touch, she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. Smiling, his hand returned, coyly running a fingertip around her lips, just before touching the swollen nub at the crest. She exhaled loudly, as if she'd been holding her breath. The pleasure, while fleeting, had been electrifying, running all the way up her body. Lelouch was no longer smiling. As if he'd been possessed, an obsession to hear once more those sounds and cries overtook him. Suddenly, he was driven by the single ambition of hearing her call out his name, of crushing her cool demeanor under the overwhelming weight of an ecstasy that reached her to the very core of her being. He watched her intently for this, studied every little crinkle between her brows, her tightly pressed lips, as she tried to contain everything within her. His fingers slick with her arousal, he refused to relent, even when she tightly gripped his arm or dug her fingernails into his back. Her only consolation was the loving kisses he showered on her forehead, her cheeks, her neck and lips, as he coaxed out of her the honesty that had eluded them both for so long.

He was well-rewarded. He knew something had been building, as her knees squeezed him and her grip tightened around his hand and arm, but most of all, when her lips finally parted and he heard the first of her moans.

It wasn't like him, but he'd underestimated her influence over him. Entranced, he listened with pride and joy as her voice gradually became louder. Taking her hand to keep her from covering her mouth, he wove their fingers together as he kissed a trail from her lips down between the valley of her breasts, her soft stomach as she took shallow breaths, down to his fingers that were soon replaced by his tongue.

When C.C. felt the warm, wet softness of his tongue, she pushed her hips into his face. Lelouch welcomed it, eager to please. When he placed her legs on his shoulders, she crossed them at the ankles and squeezed his hand as he lapped at her arousal, sucked and swirled his tongue without end, without a moment's pause, as he pushed her closer and closer to that edge.

The taste and scent of her sex made him heady. Before, he had been preoccupied, but breathing in her musk, her taste on his tongue, and her cries in his ears, he couldn't help but moan. His pants had been feeling tight for some time, but as he buried himself between her legs, watching her expression as she played with her breasts, Lelouch reached down to relieve himself of the pressure. Pushing his pants and briefs down, he brushed his palm against the head of his cock. It was already slick, and he smeared it around before sliding down the shaft. He was so hard. He didn't think he'd ever been this hard before, or this sensitive. Lowering his hips, even sliding across the blanket felt like too much to bear. Closing his eyes, his hands returned to her. Rubbing his precum over her nipples, he lightly pinched her breasts, toying with them. Anything, everything to make her come before he did. Anything to hear his name.

It didn't take much longer for his triumph. Suddenly, her hips were moving on their own, her thighs crushing him, and then her legs were shaking, her body rigid with euphoria, as she let out a long groan. It wasn't until she went limp that he allowed himself to stop. Carefully placing her legs onto the bed around him, he sat up as she lay still, breathing heavily. Her arms covered her eyes, only sliding off to land heavily beside her. Barely turning her head, she looked up at him dazedly.

Quiet seconds passed, timed by her ragged breathing, until she lifted both her arms up and beckoned him closer. Obediently, he lay down on top of her, careful to keep most of his weight on his elbows. She hugged him, running her hand over his back and the red crescents she'd left.

"C.C.," she heard in her ear. She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were bright, shining in the moonlight and cutting through the haze of lust, as they burned into her. She shivered as she felt a response within her.

His erection pressed between them, she could feel its size and warmth and imagined how it would fill the emptiness in her, how easily it would slide inside and spread her wide to take him all the way in until they were completely and perfectly connected. How she would sigh his name, how his expression would change, once overcome with an unimaginable pleasure as she wrapped and coiled around him until he was snug within her warm, velvety folds.

"Slowly," she whispered. "I'm still sensitive."

He nodded. She helped him, guiding him as he pressed the tip against her. Watching her carefully, he began pushing inside. She bit her lip but didn't move away, instead bringing her hips closer and letting him in deeper. Ah… He let out a hard breath. Only the tip was in and his patience was already tested. Leaning down, he kissed her. As they teased each other, he slowly let himself in the rest of the way, smoothly pushing in to both of their moans. Burying his face into the pillow beside her, Lelouch lay still for a moment to regain his composure. Honestly, he wasn't going to last much longer, if at all. Not when she was coiling around him, gently squeezing as if she wanted to suck him dry.

"Lelouch?"

"Hmm?"

He looked at her as they lay tangled together. As if it had even been possible, she looked more beautiful than before. She smiled. Resting her hand on his cheek, she brought him closer.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

He nodded as their lips met. Everything about her was so soft and warm. If it hadn't been for already doing so, he'd want to bury himself in her. Wrapping his arms around her, he gazed down at her in the moonlight how she had always dreamt of being gazed upon. His eyes never once leaving hers, and her his, he began moving his hips.

Pressed close together, Lelouch kissed her, tasting and touching her, and gladly lost himself in her, as they whiled away their last night together in bliss. He had woken that morning, feeling as if he no longer had a purpose, as if everything he did today wouldn't matter, but he could see now how wrong he'd been and for the first time in his life, was happy to admit as much.

. . .

The sun had only started to rise when they woke. Turning over, Lelouch found gold peeking at him from the white sheets. Pulling away the blanket, he pulled her closer. They lay quietly as he ran his fingers through her hair. Last night, as they'd laid still connected while quietly catching their breaths, she'd asked that he not apologize to her. Doing so would be a disservice to her, when she understood why it was and for what it was he was making this sacrifice. Nor did she want their final moments together to be one of regret and remorse. He had sealed that contract with a kiss, and as he studied her in the morning light, he reminded her of their promise with another.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

He was thinking about how he wished he'd had more mornings like this one. Mornings where he was glad to wake up, mornings where they lay like this, lazy in the sunlight. He thought of how much he liked holding her in his arms, how right it felt, and how happy he was to have even this one morning.

"The sunrise today isn't so harsh or dismal as I thought it would be."

"It's the dawn of a new era, isn't it?" she said softly as she wove their fingers together.

"That's right."

They lay in bed for as long as they could manage, and even when they could no longer excuse further idleness, they moved at a reluctant speed. They poked and teased each other in the shower, their laughter echoing off the marble. He dried her hair, running his hand through the soft green over and over, so that it shimmered in the morning light as she tossed it over her shoulder to zip up her straitjacket. Her own stylish gown on the mannequin, she helped him dress. Standing in front of him, she straightened his stole and adjusted his hat. Lelouch cared little for his reflection, choosing to think only of her. She glanced up at him and smiled that brave smile.

"Don't forget – just in case any assassins show up."

He took the gun from her hands, only to set it aside. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down at her, freshly faced with the reality of everything he had promised – to Nunnally, to the world, and to this woman, who had given him everything and for whom he would give anything for.

Almost anything.

"You know, don't you?" he asked seriously.

A knock on the door. It was time. Suzaku saw how his hands were on her shoulders, how close they were standing to each other, and the shadow hanging over his friend's face. Saying nothing more, he stepped back out into the hall and closed the door. He waited, leaning against the far side of the hall. Lelouch wasn't one to be swept away. He knew better than anyone all that it had taken them to reach this moment in time, and Suzaku trusted him more than anyone to carry them through to his demise, no matter who or what may be in their way.

He came out soon after. Standing up, Suzaku waited for C.C. to follow, but Lelouch only shook his head. The knight said nothing more on the matter; Lelouch had never said anything about it, but they all knew anyway where the witch stood with the emperor. There was no need to rub salt on an already bleeding wound.

Very little was said between them, even when he and Suzaku parted ways at the motorcade waiting to take his Majesty to his victory parade. Even less was said to Jeremiah as he merely looked out the tinted bulletproof window, lost in thought, until he'd finally taken his place upon his final stage.

"Jeremiah."

"Yes, my lord."

"I have one final command for you."

Jeremiah knelt before him. "She will be looked after."

Placing a hand on his shoulder, he said softly, "Thank you."

And taking his seat upon his throne, the emperor looked towards the shining light that was their future, never again to waver from all its glory.

A/N: Figured something rough was better than nothing at all. Maybe? Needed a break anyhow from working on the next Altar of Aquila chapter.