Lelouch felt his stomach turn the moment he saw her. She resembled a picturesque porcelain doll, he decided, with her smooth, pale skin and silky waves of emerald green hair. Her topaz eyes flickered in his direction and - just for a moment - held his own before quickly looking away. It was unusually hard for him to tell what exactly a girl like her was doing there, and that left him feeling oddly out of place and far too confused for his comfort.
(A voice in the back of his head whispered that her eyes were like pools of deep, golden, liquid honey; kinder than he had expected, yet more lifeless than he would have liked.)
Suddenly, Lelouch felt a pull on the sleeve of his school uniform. He turned to see Suzaku looking at him with worried eyes. He wanted to help the girl, it seemed. After some consideration, Lelouch supposed he did, too.
However, when Suzaku's blood spilled across the floor and the sound of the gunshot seemed like it would forever ring in his ears, he had grit his teeth and wished they had never crossed paths with her.
He hadn't expected her to change his life that day.
C.C. came upon his sister first. Kind voice, pretty hair... blind and crippled, just like C.C. remembered. It surprised her that she still went by Nunnally, though they had changed their last name to Lamperogue. Names were quite the nuisance, she had long discovered. To C.C., it was an unnecessary sentiment; one that she had done away with centuries ago.
They spent the rest of the evening quite contently folding paper cranes until Lelouch arrived and pulled her somewhere far away from his precious, beloved sister.
How are you still alive?
He hadn't said it out loud, but it was written all over his face. She only addressed it after he eventually left to put Nunnally to sleep.
Well, I certainly don't want to be, C.C. mused, as usual, and to no one in particular.
C.C. had taken a bullet for him, again. Admittedly, not quite a literal bullet this time, but he could have died all the same. The thought filled him with dread. Of course, Lelouch had to repay her for the Geass at some point, but he couldn't afford to owe her any further.
Lelouch could tell that there was more to their contract than she was letting on. If she was immortal, untouchable, ancient... what was it, then, that she wanted from him this desperately?
He recalled what she had said before.
Lelouch, do you know why snow is white?
What an odd thing to say. Her expression, usually stoic or unreadable, had been equally miserable.
It's because it's forgotten the colour it once was.
C.C. shifted in her sleep, jolting him out of his thoughts. Curiosity getting the better of him, Lelouch silently moved closer. A gentle smile now graced her lips, making her look younger - innocent, even. Lelouch clutched the towel he had collected for analysis. Inching closer, he finally sat down next to her, closing his eyes as he listened to a name of ancient origin, and a hopeful voice echoing a forgotten sentiment.
Say my name, she said.
The sound of water, as it dripped from the ceiling, echoed in the air; and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.
Recently, her chest ached whenever he was around. C.C. wasn't sure why, exactly. It could be the stubbornness in his lilac eyes as he pursued his impossible goal; the alarming youthfulness in his voice as he bellowed his dramatic commands; or the hurt and anger he visibly swallowed as he fussed over his helpless sister.
The reason didn't matter, she thought. This happened often enough. It was a matter of transference. This time, she mused, was probably no different. He was probably no different.
Even so, Marianne did not hesitate to seize the opportunity to tease her, and C.C. promptly decided she would just ignore her, too.
It was easier with someone like her, someone willing to watch his back, someone whom he could rely on. Perhaps that was why Lelouch went to find her, in the dead of the night.
Or, perhaps, it was the echo of an intimate whisper that still rang in his ears. He supposed he wanted to know more about her, her own goals and dreams and desires.
Lelouch shook his head at the thought. It was the former, it had to be the former. He didn't have the luxury to get attached to anyone else.
An image of an orange-haired girl popped into his head, and Lelouch grimaced.
Lelouch wasn't like Mao, C.C. was aware of that. Lelouch had a goal, a purpose. That's why she had chosen him, of course. Still, the plea in his voice as he had called out her name had been far too familiar for comfort. C.C. knew how this would end; she had been down this road many times before.
That was why she was barely surprised when Lelouch found her once more, her bloody, helpless body in his arms as he ordered Mao dead. He hadn't met her eyes for a while, but she had felt his heartbeat clamouring against his chest; you wouldn't have been able to tell that he was nervous otherwise, she reckoned.
Once they were alone on the rooftop, C.C. figured she should be honest with him. Tell him about Mao. How they got here. About everything that could go wrong.
It's a contract, he had replied in understanding (his voice echoing with indignation), this time, from me to you.
A smile had slowly spread across her face. Maybe they could get it right, after all.
There was only the slightest flutter in the pit of her stomach as his cold, nimble hand fully clasped her own.
Lelouch didn't say anything as C.C. wrapped her arms around his neck. He couldn't; his head hurt, his body was weak, and he found it painfully hard to breathe.
He felt disgust roll around in his stomach as he remembered pink, pink, pink until it slowly all bled into a suffocating red.
Euphemia... Euphy. Lelouch remembered the kindness that had radiated from her smile and the hope etched on her face when they had talked. She had always been like this: gracious, giving, loving. Nunnally and Suzaku had loved her more than he had; he wondered, numbly, if they would ever forgive him.
C.C. mentioned none of this, however, when she found him; only silently took him in her arms. Lelouch didn't (couldn't) think twice as he leaned into her warmth.
I promise I'll stay by your side till the very end, she murmured into his hair.
Lelouch hadn't even noticed the tears that stained her shirt.
When C.C. kissed him, Lelouch had found it hard to believe that they were doing this, then, of all times. But then again, C.C. was always full of surprises. He closed his eyes and leaned in, momentarily forgetting the chaos that engulfed them.
(He found out, that day, that her lips were as cold as the snow and sweet as liquid honey.)
For the first time in a very long time, Lelouch found hope, alive and well, clawing its way through the misery embedded in the deepest cavities of his chest. He smiled as he bade the witch farewell.
C.C. pushed Jeremiah into the depths of the ocean and herself along with him. There was simply no other way to win this battle. She clenched her jaw in frustration. How many times? How many times had she gone through excruciating pain when nothing, not even death itself, could ease it?
C.C. bitterly remembered that she had stopped counting many, many years ago.
An image of a boy with soft, violet eyes suddenly came before her.
She had thought it rather strange of him to have been so concerned.
Don't die.
He had barely even spent a year with her. To her, one year was meaningless.
You're not alone.
This year should have been meaningless.
We are accomplices.
C.C. now felt the heavy weight of the ocean push against the Gawain. The machine was going to combust, and consequently her entire body with it. Her heart clenched in her chest and tears stung at her eyes.
If you're a witch, then I will become a warlock.
She let out a painful laugh. What an absurd thing to say. But, perhaps, she mused, this was their true contract. Without much thinking, C.C. ran her tongue over the taste of metal and blood against her lips.
Perhaps she would have to live a little longer to see how it turned out.
(Perhaps the pain would be worth it.)
With that thought, the world turned black, as she pushed the Gawain deep into the ocean's gaping abyss.