C.C. sat at the concrete top step in front the church, a scowl painted on her face. The sun was high and bright, forcing the gypsy lady to take shelter at the worship house. Being born with pale skin comes with consequences, one which is being highly sensitive with the sun, though Lelouch made sure she wouldn't wander around the town without a hooded robe to protect her from burning. It was strange seeing the easily-flustered-virgin so worked up finding a good hat for her, too. He was strange that morning, but thanks to that, she somehow made it to the town.
The lime-haired lady heaved a sigh, slumping further on the hard ground. Lowland people were dressed with long skirts and odd robes and wide-brimmed hats ornated with silky ribbons. Under the heat like this, she'd rather wear something lighter and thinner, clothes made of fabric that would allow the air to circulate in her clothes. Thinking about it, the clothes of gypsies, such as she, who live in the northern mountains were lesser than these people. However, their puffy pants and choli tops wouldn't help her from burning because of the sun. Their veils and ethnic jewelry would be unnecessary, too. Unlike the mountains, trees are rare in the town.
Lightly, she untangled the ribbon laced under her chin, removing the hat from her head. She felt the cool breeze on her head and face, its invisible fingers felt like they were combing through her hair. Head tilted up, she inhaled the air. It was dry and it smelled of sand. The town was dusty, or at least that was the best she had seen so far.
"I forgot the name of the lady I'm supposed to look for," C.C. mumbled, eyes blank as she stared at her black skirt. Even when seated, her toes weren't visible with this length. She looked sideways and picked up the basket next to her, right hand diving in it to retrieve a piece of paper. Lelouch's handwriting was neat and pretty. "Lady Cecilé Croomy," she sighed. What was this errand for, again?
The tired gypsy winced, not wanting to recall the very reason of her first trip to the town proper. She slowly delved to thinking, though. In the end, she was a hypocrite.
Her scowl worsened as she squinted at the sun. She hated going by foot, detested walking under the sun, loathed being waken up in her sleep. If Lelouch weren't exceptionally convincing earlier this morning, she would have ignored him like her usual antic. What could she do, his heavy lidded eyes that morning and his lips on her lips were good bait. C.C. was simply a fool. She nibbled her lower-lip as she recalled how their morning started.
The sun wasn't up yet that time. The air was cooler, and everything was succumbed by darkness. C.C. was sleeping quietly in his bed, not next to him but at the foot of his bed. She refused sleeping next to him despite his permission, insisting she was a mere servant tasked to help him graduate from his innocence. She still preferred to know her place. Again, she was sound asleep when she felt his movements.
Lelouch crawled next to her, poking her cheeks with his forefinger. Who would have thought that the young war tactician was fond of such childish play? His innocent poking wouldn't erase the image C.C. had in mind, that those very fingers also made her body feel ecstasy just a few days ago. She grumbled, annoyed with how persistent his fingers were in poking her cheeks until she angrily blinked her eyes open.
His reaction was instantaneous. The gentleman, perhaps he was hardly a gentleman by now, went straight to attack his prey with a soft kiss on her lips. "Good morning," he greeted and pulled her up with him.
C.C. could recall how his nightshirt looked on him. He was wearing a white nightgown that time, one whose neckline extended open down until his breast bone. It was dim but she could see the lean muscles of his chest, those collarbones, his legs. Oh, she had felt his skin once but never again. But it was smooth, nevertheless.
C.C. grew uncomfortable with his gaze on her. That was when she realized how barely presentable her state was. The square neckline of her chemise exposed too much skin, much to her chagrin. Needless to say that the nightdress was a little loose, one of its sleeves slid down to her arm. Pretending that she didn't see the look on his face, she pulled it up and slumped back to sleep.
"Lady, I'm speaking to you. Face me at least, that is basic etiquette." He sounded like his usual self, a little sleepy on one hand, but she just rolled over in response. "I'm asking you to rise and talk to me."
That sounded firm. He was a war general after all, but she wasn't in the spirits to follow someone else's order when she was the one inconvenienced in the first place. Oh, not even her own mother could make her rise unless the sun's out. She just shrugged to annoy him, not in the mood to obey the aristocrat at all. The sun wasn't up yet, for Pete's sake. "I was under the impression you will pounce me as though I'm your morning prey," she yawned. "I'm a gypsy. We don't have the rules you live by."
There was silence for a moment. Perhaps what she said got his tongue. That, or he was silently admitting he looked at her that way. "But you live with me, I must remind you," was his response a little later.
"Surely, I do." She pushed herself up this time, the sheets ruffling under her. "Also, I must remind you that I am a slave. I care not for propriety nor table manners. It isn't like I'm a learning to be a proper lady or I am to be married to a nobleman," she stretched her limbs overhead, the cool morning breeze caressing her bare skin. As the nobleman rolled out of her tongue, Sir Weinberg's face flashed in her mind. Now, that is some sunshine.
"You are fairly aware that it doesn't please me to hear you call yourself a slave," he told her, voice firm but soft as he got her wrists and pulled it down in between them. His heavy-lidded amethyst eyes were enrapturing her first thing in the morning. Men born with beautiful eyes and lashes like him have to pass this to their offsprings, she thought. Such beauty shouldn't be monopolized by green-eyed monsters like men.
She leaned forward, unfazed by his warning. C.C. knew she was ruining his morning, but she hardly cared. He ruined hers by waking her up. Hence, she continued leaning forward until her lips lightly touched his jaw. It was a random thought, but she felt impolite if she'd suddenly kiss him on his lips regardless of how alluring he was. She was in no position to make a move first, after all. Her role was to remain submissive. A slave. "I beg your pardon then," she whispered. "How may I help you, Sir?"
They were dangerously close, both their breathing hitched due to their proximity. His grip slowly loosened, and soon his hands were on her hips. It had been a day or two since they last touched each other. C.C. would not be surprised if Lelouch would do her wonder again.
In all of a sudden, he managed to pull her to sit properly in front him. Face to face. It was a little brighter this moment compared to earlier. And since it was a tad bright, she could see the blush dusting the war tactician's face. His facial expressions encouraged a smirk on her face.
"Wipe that smirk off your face. You'll be heading to the town today," he dismissed. Lelouch moved out of the bed and pulled a purse from his bedside table. The coins inside clinked together as he threw it to the bed, then he went to his wardrobe and pulled out a black kirtle corset dress.
C.C. gawked at the garment, surprised to see the young aristocrat keeping one in his wardrobe. "Are you wearing that?" came her dumb question which received an immediate denial.
"I bought this for you. You were asleep when I went home late evening yesterday." Lelouch also brought out a white blouse with puffy sleeves and a long hooded robe. "Kindly put these on. I'll turn around while you change."
His command made her chuckle, on one hand. Lelouch was a gentleman, surely, but there was no point for that anymore. "You have seen enough of my body. Why do you have to turn around?"
"Our matters on the bed don't involve this. I want to show you I still respect you as a lady," he stammered through his reply, appearing less confident compared to his bold kisses.
"Oh, you do?" she teased, slipping off her chemise and putting on the blouse. The sky was brightening up now. "Well, I assume you want me to wear this without the intention of taking them off for your evening escapades. Thank you."
"Don't make it sound like I'm toying your body," Lelouch raised a tone there, annoyed to hear her out. "I have told you I will grant your freedom the moment you ask for it. Regarding the other matter, I won't be sorry, not a tiny bit, for I find your beauty bewitching."
"Fair enough," she mumbled, putting on the kirtle dress this time. She laced it in front before giving the man a reply. "So long as I fulfil my duty, I don't mind you doing anything…" C.C. wasn't entirely convinced with what she said, but that was her fate. "I am your humble servant who's a bit proud. For that I'm sorry, but not sincerely. Make use of me as you wish."
"That I will," Lelouch turned around and grabbed her by the shoulders. He spun her to face him, her long hair following her movement. His brows wrinkled seeing her unlaced blouse. For some reasons he ended up lacing it up himself, unhappy with the thought that she would be showing too much skin while roaming around the town. "There are lots of ruffians and barbarians in the town. I will behead anyone if they try to disrespect you or violate you in any possible way."
"Despite being a fierce leader yourself, I understand why the servants in this manor are loyal to you," she mumbled, watching his fingers lacing up her blouse, concealing the top of her plump, fair bosom. "You have a high sense of justice and that is admirable. Moreover, I thought you are only dexterous in undressing a woman. You're fairly good with laces, I must say."
"I have a sibling somewhere far. For years, I looked after her before I was sent to our father," Lelouch replied and picked up the robe and secured it around her. "Please walk to the bathroom sink and dab your face with a wet towel. Do it faster, we have to leave before servants wake up."
C.C. moved quickly to the washroom and did as she was told to. The rest of that morning was spent briefly on a horse ride. Lelouch dropped her by the valley, telling her that crossing the bricked bridge and walking for about three miles would bring her to the town proper.
"It is quite a distance but it shouldn't be tiring for a nomad like you," he said, handing her a basket. "Look for the only dress shop in town. There is a seamstress named Cécile Croomy and show her this paper. You should wait until she sends you home."
"I would appreciate if you would lend me a horse," she grumbled instead, unwillingly crossing the bridge. The boots had a nice thud against the stone bridge. While she wasn't so used to this kind of footwear, the boots were comfortable.
"That won't do," he said, "this is the only horse in the manor. The servants will notice if it's gone. I don't want to put you in such an ordeal but -"
"Would you mind if I run away, Mr. Britannia?" C.C. stood at the center of the bridge, towering at the young conqueror. He looked beautiful mounted on a black stallion, his lenin dress shirt unbuttoned. The way the morning light flickered in his orbs made C.C. curious. "Will you keep my tribe safe from Jeremiah like you promised?"
This wasn't planned. Hearing the brook murmuring softly, seeing the green hills and valleys, inhaling the scent of the fresh morning dew reminded C.C. of her home. Somehow, being sent to the town felt like she was granted freedom. She had no plan of running away, but she wanted to know a real response from him.
He stalled hearing her question but he managed to look at her in the eyes. Sure, it caught him by surprise. However, he already thought of this possibility no matter how slim the chances were. For once, he was mistaken thinking that the chances were that small.
"I wouldn't mind at all," Lelouch nodded, his lips thinned to a line. "I told you, just ask for it and I will give it." Much to her surprise, he hopped down the stallion and ran to her, pulling her close to him until their lips crashed. The sun was beginning to splash rays of light, pushing the dark hues of evening away. Meanwhile, it was his tongue probing her mouth for its intrusion.
This wasn't planned. Her question was out of a whim, purely unthought of and hypothetical. His rough kisses she was forced to return were unexpected; he held her close until their bosoms crashed, until no parts of them were apart. This young aristocrat was… trying to stop her from breathing at all.
"Allow me to ravish you with that kiss," he chuckled, slowly pulling away. "I have not been acting myself since you've arrived; I'm just… happy with your decision. I'm surprised, honestly, that you would ask for your freedom right at this moment."
"I am surprised too," she replied, covering her swollen lips. "I must go." C.C. turned around and ran as fast as she could. She didn't look back; she never heard him call her back, either. It was just the horse's neighs which told her that he was there, watching her back.
"It was bold of him to kiss me," C.C. mumbled, slowly standing from her seat. "Somewhere open for everyone to see. Though no one's there at all," she pulled the hood over her head. She thought he was simply out of himself today.
The double doors of the church opened, voices of several people echoed. They were talking about things C.C. doesn't understand, for she knew nothing about the townspeople beliefs and religions. She decided to hurry and leave the place the moment she heard the footfalls nearing her.
She had the basket hooked in her left arm while her right hand fanned her face with the hat. As she walked away the church, she heard noises coming from the end of the road. The sounds were faint, but sure those were voices. Thinking that it might be the market, she picked up the hem of her gown and hastened her walk.
Meanwhile, the bishop and Sir Gino Weinberg bid each other farewell. He went to visit the clergymen today upon their request. They were asking Lelouch a few of his soldiers to escort the missionaries in converting the nomads of the North. The journey to the mountains could be extremely dangerous to people like them who have never set foot out of the low areas for so long. Moreover, most missionaries were a bit old to trace their path back.
Apparently, the clergymen thought Gino was close enough to the young ruler. Gino and Lelouch were not exactly on friendly terms; the blond was a mere follower, admiring the young ruler in every (annoying) possible way. During work, his relationship with Lelouch was purely professional. The blond wasn't sure if he could bring this up properly to Lelouch, but he would try his best.
After saying his goodbye, he turned around and descended to the massive staircase. His coach was waiting under the shade, parallel to him. He would have hailed it, had he not seen the lime locks of the lady walking away from the church. Judging from the stature, Gino was convinced who it was.
The blond ran to his coach and asked for his hat, instructing the coachman to tail him. Without further ado, he ran after the lady. She was now walking faster; he was unsure if she noticed him or what. He continued chasing her, nevertheless. This time he wouldn't scare her.
"Fancy seeing you around," he greeted, catching up with her strides. She glanced at him, unfamiliarity written all over her face. It didn't last longer though, for she quickly curtsied to him. "Don't mind, please. I'm happy to see you again. Please don't run away this time."
"Perhaps I won't do that this time," she answered. "Sir," she added, forgetting that Gino was an aristocrat. "This is my first time going here and I suppose I will lose my way by pretending I know which road leads to which."
The tall man smiled at her. "I've got a good amount of free time in my hands right now," he said, implying that he's willing to walk her around. "Where to, Milady?"
"C.C. will do. I'm just a servant," she took something from the basket and showed it to him. She failed to notice how he mouthed her name, as if practising how to say it. "Sir Lelouch asked me to look for her."
Gino read the name written down on the piece of paper she showed to him. It was the town seamstress, also the young conqueror's personal seamstress. "Why, if it isn't Lady Croomy. Are you tasked to pick up Mr. Britannia's clothes?"
C.C.'s face wrinkled, thinking about his question. Lelouch did not give specific instructions, but he reminded that she shouldn't leave unless Croomy allowed her to. Glancing back at the bubbly person next to her, she nodded her affirmation. That must be it. His clothes.
"I see. Judging the hem of your dress, I suppose you've been walking all this time," Gino noted, eyeing the mudstains and leaf blades of the gown's hem. "Her shop isn't so far from here, but I suppose you will appreciate a ride with me. I have brought a coach today." In a jiffy, a coach was moving next to them. Its black coating shone against the sun, two black stallions were pulling it. It halted. The coachman hurriedly went down and open the door for them.
C.C. just stood there, eyes wide open. She had never seen a coach this beautiful. When Jeremiah took her away from the mountains, he put her to a wagon together with all the goods he bought from the next city. Her hands were bound behind her; she was seated next to a lifeless deer. This would be the first time someone would treat her nicely as though she wasn't an object of pleasure or a slave. Hence, she took Gino's hand upon his invitation. His kind invitation.
"So soft," she sighed, sitting comfortably next to the gentleman. The seat was less softer than Lelouch's bed, but this relieved her body from all the walk she had done this morning. She ran her hands through the red cushion covering the seat and the walls. Getting excited riding a coach would be ridiculous, but well… "We do not have such luxurious means of transportation in my hometown."
His ears perked up, hearing the lady initiate a talk. This seemed to signal a good progress between them. After all, it was better to start as friends. "Is that so? Then how do you go to places?" he asked, staring down at her pretty face.
She turned to meet his eyes, hints of sweet nostalgia surfacing on her visage. "We ride horses. People of my tribe are skillful horse riders. As early as we learn how to run without falling, our parents put us on ponies and off we go." C.C. turned away, leaning to the window next to her. Stalls of merchants lined up along the road came to view, their goods laid out before them. "We look for what we need in the wilderness. It is never easily accessed unlike here."
"You must be a good huntress," he leaned on his palm, eyes glued on her back. Somehow, her face looked brighter as she talked about her home. "How did you get here in town? Were you captured and sold to Sir Britannia? How does he treat you, I wonder? A man as wise and cruel such as him, you must have been traumatized in the manor?"
She wrinkled her nose, unsure how to answer his questions. First of all, it would be weird to simply say that she was taken by force from the mountains. Nomads like her were technically good hunters. She could have easily saved herself from Jeremiah. But then, seeing him pointing a gun to her brother left her powerless.
Secondly, C.C. couldn't imagine how Sir Weinberg would react if he learned that she was given as a gift to the young conqueror. This kind aristocrat declared his intentions of marrying her right at first sight. Although there was no mention of why he wanted her, she assumed it was out of attraction. How would a man react if he learns that the lady he adores is another man's servant on the bed?
Lastly, Lelouch vi Britannia had never shown anything such as cruelty to her. He treated her ever so nicely that even when they explore each other's bodies, she knew he was holding her with utmost gentleness. Even their parting kiss earlier, it was a bit rough but it made her feel wanted. That was out of his usual shy demeanor.
She cleared her throat. "I am not allowed to talk about that, I apologize. One thing I can assure you, sir, is that Sir vi Britannia treats his servants as his good subjects so long as we show him respect."
"Yes, I understand. The man is just and kind, only if people will see through his mask." Gino Weinberg agreed, glancing at the town from his window. It was crowded outside, commoners and servants were roaming around to buy their necessities.
"Though I work in the manor, I hardly see the young conqueror. I wonder about what you said just now. Is he a cold man?" C.C. sighed, suddenly feeling tired. The only time she spends with Lelouch would be meal times and evenings. They were physically intimate, but besides that they know nothing of the other. Now that she thought about it, maybe he hasn't learned her name yet.
"I am under the impression that you serve him directly. Though I suppose even if you serve him directly, he is busy with war meetings when he stays at home." Gino sighed, recalling how harsh Lelouch could be when planning attacks. "He's ruthless in the battlefield. Sir Lelouch was a perfect cutout of his father's ideals. However, compared to the previous leader, I like Sir Lelouch better. Oh, we're here."
The coach stopped along a curb. They felt the coachman hop from his seat, opening the doors for them. C.C. stepped out first, fascinated with the small, gloomy shop in front her. Huge glass windows made the insides of the store transparent to passersby. There were lots of clothes inside, but their colors were hard to determine due to the darkness of the store. The mannequin displayed on the windows was dressed with male and female clothings (of mostly upper class).
"This is Lady Cécile Croomy's dress shop. Would you like me to accompany you inside?" Gino offered, resting a hand at the small of her back to guide her to the store's entrance.
C.C. refused politely. She received enough help from him already. Future troubles would make her feel deeply indebted. This was enough. "Thank you, kind sir. You have helped me enough. This is something I suppose I can manage."
Gino smiled down at her, feasting at the view of her stunning face looking back at him. "If you insist," he sighed. "I am simply hoping I can get something in return."
"Anything I can do in my power," she answered. "So long that it isn't indecent or whatnot."
"Of course, I wish we can talk like friends when I visit the manor. Is that possible?"
There was too much glint of hope in his eyes that she ended up saying yes; refusing him made her feel the sharp stabs of guilt. At least, his request was unlike Jeremiah's orders. The young man left with a big smile on his face. He kept his face on the window, screaming that he would see her tomorrow as the coach departed. C.C. could only smile back, regretting what she did just now. Sir Weinberg is simple-minded, why not marry someone with a pure heart like him?
Turning back, she faced the store's entrance. The doors were closed but the store was operational. "Here we go," she breathed in, gripping the door knobs. With a huff, she pulled the doors and it opened with a ding. The shop smelled like fabrics stored indoors for so long. There were rolls of different kinds and colors of fabric lined up on the right wing next to the long table. Left wing was filled with finished clothes in hangers, arranged based on their sizes. At the far corner of the left wing there stood a huge mirror next to a dressing room. C.C. approached the long desk since it looked like it's the reception. Every step she took made the wooden flooring grate.
A tall woman with indigo hair came out of the passage hidden by velvety curtains at the right wing. She had tape measure hanging from her shoulders, her hair caught up in a bun and secured with a pencil. "How may I help you?" she asked, not lifting a head to her customer. She was busy sketching on her pad.
"I am looking for Miss Croomy. I'm here to run an errand for Sir Lelouch vi Britannia," C.C. said, walking to the long desk to approach the lady. She took the piece of paper Lelouch gave and put it down on the surface.
Distracted from her trance, the woman looked at the paper in front her. She knew this handwriting; it certainly was Sir Britannia's. This time, she faced her visitor to gaze at her appearance. "Aha, the lady with lime hair from the Northern mountains."
"I am," C.C. curtsied. "Are you Miss Croomy?"
There came no response from the other person. The seamstress studied C.C. from head to toe, before blathering out numbers C.C. didn't know where it came from.
"Those are your measurements as told by Sir Lelouch," answered the seamstress, putting her pad down on the table. She pulled her tape measure and started measuring C.C.
"What does he know about my measurements? Even I don't know mine," C.C. wondered blankly. He had never come to her with a measuring tape ever. There was no way he could now by just caressing her body, right?
"Perhaps he asked the head maid of the manor. Didn't you have tailored cleaning uniform?" she asked. "By the way, yes, I'm Cécile."
C.C. huffed, lifting her arms aligned to her shoulders as Cécile circled her bust with her tape measure. "Unlikely, he won't go to such extent." That aside, she was still clueless why this woman was taking her measurements.
"It turns out he is correct," there was amusement in the seamstress' voice. She pulled C.C. with her, the two of them vanishing through the velvety curtains. "This is my first time losing a bet so that means I have to make an extra dress. Do you mind waiting until afternoon? I have a dress already tailored but will make a few more alterations. I never thought that a lady with perfect curves like you exist. Most women in town have breasts sagging from their body. Too much sexual activity, if you ask me."
"Pardon?" C.C. was pushed down a setter against the wall. So what hides behind the velvety curtains is Miss Croomy's workplace. "When you said dress, you mean mine? Just what am I picking up in here?"
The seamstress pulled the dress out of the mannequin next to her chair and began cutting the stitched she had done around the bust and waist. "Sir Lelouch asked me tailor a new pair of dress shirts and trousers for him. He also asked me to make two dresses for a lady of your size which are all done, by the way." She put her scissors down with a loud tap, then brought the dress to her sewing machine. "I refused to believe that the measurements he gave me where accurate, so I told him to send you here. If he's accurate, I'll make you a dress for free."
"I don't understand any of this," C.C. smiled in confusion. "Did Sir Lelouch tell you any reasons why he wants a new dress for a maid like me? It does not make sense, don't you think?" A bit irked with the revelation, she wondered if the young conqueror was going around telling people from town proper that he got a lady to satiate his evenings.
"I have seen enough forbidden affairs between masters and servants," Lady Croomy answered, her sewing machine stitched through the dress; openly addressing the fact that C.C. was his woman. "But for a cold ruler, fear grips my soul when he smiled the moment I asked why is he gifting you a dress. Guess what the gentleman said?"
Flabbergasted, she sat in silence. She had no plans of running away, but coming home and facing him would be awkward.
"Sir Lelouch smiled and said, 'some ladies are captivating when undressed. This lady is enticing without it, but perhaps she'd be prettier with a gown on.'"