Primary Gain

a/n-I am bad at updating this site because I can never get formatting right...so there, AFF! I did it!


Primary Gain Interlude

The Unscrupulous Man

When he was thirteen Schneizel killed his sister’s cat. It wasn’t something he had planned or wanted to do and he had hated himself intensely for it for months afterward, but he was grateful too. Unlike his brothers and sisters, Schneizel hadn’t needed to shed human blood to understand the permanence of taking a life. He had also discovered that human love was just as fragile and vulnerable as a life. It had only taken a week for Guinevere to get over the disappearance of her beloved pet but that week had been excruciating. With every look at her red eyes and worry-lined face Schneizel had felt an invisible collar cinch around his neck more and more tightly. He’d very nearly confessed.

After twenty years Schneizel still remembered that warm grip, the struggle, and how difficult it had been to snap that little neck in comparison to the ease of pulling a trigger. Schneizel contemplated that for the rest of his life: the difference between humans and animals.

The first time Schneizel had held little Lelouch, he had thought of that cat and its slick black fur, its strange eyes, and found himself in something of a quandary. Unlike the other princes and princesses, he found himself admiring the little thing, treasuring him, when he should have been wondering how much he would have to pay to have the boy poisoned. He’d sat in the parlor staring at Lelouch for a long time, long enough that when Marianne found them Lelouch had fallen asleep in the cradle of Schneizel’s arms as a warm, content little weight.

Schneizel’s curious attachment was only reinforced when Marianne came around the corner, caught sight of them both and went pale, rushing over to very nearly snatch Lelouch right out of his arms. They looked at each other for the first time, really looked at each other, and Schneizel had laughed a little because His Majesty’s knight was furiously afraid with her eyes narrowed and her cheeks flushed. He had understood her beauty then and why his father was so entranced with a simple, common killer. Still, wife or not that was all Marianne could ever be and no knight would dare to interfere with royalty.

“He’s my brother before he’s your child.” Schneizel had smiled down at Lelouch. “You’re more of a threat to him than I’ll ever be.”

Schneizel looked down at Lelouch who was a strange, quiet baby and thought ‘mine’ as the woman bowed.

When Schneizel was sixteen he killed Clovis’ baby brother. He just put a hand over its mouth and waited. Clovis walked in with a full bottle and a smile just as Schneizel raised his arm away from the crib.

“You should pay better attention, Clovis,” Schneizel said, walking over to pat his face with the same hand. The fat tears that had started to drip from his eyes down to his jaw hadn’t upset Schneizel. He’d just licked the liquid from the tips of his fingers idly as Clovis made one choked noise before collapsing to his knees.

“No more sons,” was all Schneizel had said before walking out.

No one was surprised when Schneizel didn’t attend the funeral, but they would have taken pause had they known where he had gone instead. While the boy-child was being buried, Schneizel was teaching a toddler how to play chess.

“And which is this?” Schneizel asked softly, a piece offered on his palm. Biting his lower lip, his eyes wide and earnest Lelouch had said, “Em’per.”

“Yes,” Schneizel smiled. “Show me your mother, Lelouch.”

Lelouch put his hands on his lap, leaning over to peer at the board. His hesitance satisfied Schneizel in an odd, unfamiliar way and it was only later that he identified the emotion that had made him smile. Watching Lelouch glance from the queen to the knight made Schneizel feel proud.

“Haha desu,” Lelouch finally said, and Schneizel renewed his vow when Lelouch set the black knight next to the white king on Schneizel’s palm.

“Very good.” Schneizel was content and prepared to end the lesson but Lelouch was peering at the board again, his eyes hidden by a swing of silky black hair. When he looked back up it was with a shy blush as he held up the black king on his own palm.

“Ani-sama desu ka,” he said, sounding hopeful as he gave Schneizel a miniscule smile.

Schneizel kissed him for the first time then, leaning forward to press his lips to Lelouch’s forehead. His skin was very soft and his smile was brilliant when Schneizel pulled away.

“Hai, Ani desu.” Schneizel felt flattered for one ridiculous moment. Then he had reached over and put the black queen next to the king on Lelouch’s palm. The two pieces only barely fit on his small hand.

“Lelouch-kun desu ka.”

Lelouch didn’t answer. He simply put the pieces down into their correct places, all of them, and then threw himself into Schneizel’s arms. There was a moment of surprise as he held Lelouch and pulled him close, and then a moment of wonder as Lelouch smiled, laughed and giggled in a flurry of sudden Japanese that Schneizel couldn’t translate but adored. Whenever he could spare the time, Schneizel dropped by to teach Lelouch the game. It only took six months for him to identify all of the pieces and their moves and by the time Lelouch was five years old he could play. That was what they were doing when Marianne went into labor for the second time. Lelouch was getting ready to take Schneizel’s rook when Sir Gottwald appeared in the doorway with a small, tense smile.

“What is it, Jeremiah?” Schneizel didn’t look away. He didn’t need to.

“A girl, my Lord.”

Schneizel would have killed Nunnally except for the loving shine in Lelouch’s eyes when the boy looked down at his sister. He even allowed himself to be defeated a few times on the chess board when Lelouch was too young to identify his teasing, just to make him smile. Still, it became harder to visit him after the girl’s birth. Marianne kept a close eye, but Schneizel’s instincts had been perfected throughout the years and he found it very difficult to keep his hand from Nunnally’s crib, to keep from making himself into the sibling that Lelouch loved most out of all others. Instead Schneizel denied himself, throwing all of his energy into the family work to make Britannia strong, to ensure that Lelouch would always have a safe place, to ensure that there was a small pocket in the world where Schneizel could always keep Lelouch close.

He would have continued on that path, growing stronger and stronger through influence if Charles hadn’t ordered him to go to school. After acquiring a freshly bought degree in history Schneizel made his way to Harvard Law. Schneizel didn’t have the empathy necessary to become a doctor, he didn’t need anyone to teach him that he was something of a sociopath, and he was perfectly capable of learning how to cook on his own. The only two things left that interested him were law and politics and despite being very good at it Schneizel disliked lying. Telling falsehoods was a coward’s pastime, but on a similar note honesty was very likely to put him into a jail or a madhouse.

When he was twenty years old, Schneizel came home for Christmas to discover that Lelouch had been molded from a content, intuitive child into a sharp-eyed, intuitive prince who watched the world as if his small body was nothing but a veil. He met Schneizel as if they were strangers when it had only been two years since they played chess together, comfortable and smiling.

That strange little prince had been honestly surprised when Schneizel beat him at chess, his shock only growing with every defeat he experienced that Christmas Eve. Schneizel had never hated Marianne more than when Lelouch ended the evening wearing a look of utter despair as he surveyed the board.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly.

“That’s probably best, little brother.” Schneizel looked him in the eyes, frowned and murmured, “Did you really think you would win the game I taught you?”

“Yes,” Lelouch muttered, his cheeks flushing as he glared. He looked every bit the spoiled prince from those narrowed eyes to the straight line of his lips.

Schneizel reached out and grabbed Lelouch’s nose, smiling as his eyes opened ridiculously wide, transforming the prince back into a boy.

“Hasn’t your mother told you, littlest prince?” Schneizel smirked. “If you’re not careful your face will stick like that and everyone you meet will know you’re a stuck-up little brat.”

“I’m not a brat!” Lelouch smacked Schneizel’s hand away, looking as furious as an eight year old could possibly be. “I’m just not supposed to lose!”

Schneizel only smiled, watching as Lelouch set the board again.

They played through the night, but Schneizel didn’t once let Lelouch win. He found that the boy’s temper was just as endearing as his sweet smiles and his tenacity surely rivaled his own mother’s fierce resolve. Lelouch hadn’t even raised his head when Jeremiah tiptoed in to leave Santa’s treats behind. The man ended up staying, idly munching cookies and milk as he watched the game. He left just as the birds began to wake outside.

Their last game was left undone when the boy finally fell asleep mid-turn, nearly slumping onto the board. Schneizel picked him up, marveling at how slight Lelouch was and how he snuggled closer with a deep sigh. He walked through the house, carefully peeking through doors until he found one decorated in blue, books lining the wall near a long picture window covered in game pieces.

Schneizel finally pushed the door open, juggling Lelouch without waking him and trying not to trip over the overflowing stocking on the floor. He very nearly stumbled over a pillow before managing to get to the small bed. He looked from Lelouch to the bed and back again before sighing and quietly waking him up.

“Leave me ‘lone,” Lelouch pouted, hiding his face. “Now.”

Schneizel looked at him for a moment, feeling the curious bemusement at what was clearly an order being directed at him, the second heir to the Britannia line and not to mention Lelouch’s older and most dangerous brother.

Schneizel picked Lelouch up by the armpits, tossed him up into the air and watched as he bounced, wide-eyed and squealing as he woke up fast.

“What are you doing!”

“I’m waking you up.” Schneizel snapped back, “You need to get into your pajamas.”

Lelouch made one horrible scrunched-up face and for a moment Schneizel watched, horrified and panicked, as tears started to well in his eyes.

“Momma just puts me in.” Lelouch sniffed. “I was dreaming.”

Schneizel crossed his arms and tried to figure out what to say to a sniffling, overtired child that he had just dropped from five feet in the air, wrecking his happy dreams after ruthlessly beating him at chess at least twelve times in the last three hours.

“Santa told me to tell you to put on your pajamas,” Schneizel ad-libbed. “You can’t open presents in dirty clothes.”

Lelouch stared up, looking at Schneizel like he’d grown a second head.

“You are too old to believe in Santa,” Lelouch said, suddenly and intensely serious despite the hour. “Santa is fake.”

Schneizel heard the silently tagged on ‘stupid’ loud and clear.

“Oh really?” Schneizel raised an eyebrow, leaning over with a smirk as he took on the challenge. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Lelouch replied, deadpan. “It’s just the knights.”

“Who gives the knights the presents?” Schneizel gave him a look. “Do you think they just go around buying brats toys for fun? Someone has to run around delivering gifts and eating cookies or Santa wouldn’t get anything done and I hear that midgets have a union now.”

“Little people,” Lelouch amended breathlessly, jumping off his bed and running towards his dresser. He pulled hard enough that the whole drawer fell out, socks and underwear scattering across the floor. Schneizel started kicking it all into a pile, averting his eyes as Lelouch furiously undressed and changed with the complete unselfconsciousness of a child.

It was at that moment, looking away from Lelouch, that Schneizel discovered Marianne watching from the closet with a video recorder in hand. She didn’t flinch away from his stare and she didn’t drop the machine, and for a moment Schneizel was intensely grateful for his ability to keep a straight face. If Marianne had caught him on camera looking shocked or guilty he would have killed her. He would have killed her and Lelouch would have seen.

Instead Schneizel carefully, deliberately turned away to help Lelouch into bed, tucking him in, wishing him a happy Christmas, and then left the house feeling hollow and wondering if he really came across as that sort of monster. He commended a healthy suspicion when it came to Lelouch, but…well, Schneizel was still young yet. In normal circumstances Marianne should have left at least a little room for brotherly fondness and youthful idealism.

A happy Christmas indeed, and Schneizel wondered if it could be considered a gift to leave the woman behind.

Schneizel spent the holidays staring at himself in the mirror smiling and practicing his mannerisms, making sure that no one would ever be suspicious again.

Schneizel left Harvard when Odysseus called to tell him that Marianne had been murdered. The woman wasn’t yet in the ground and Charles was already gone, detaching himself from Britannia and leaving Odysseus in command as he disappeared into the tumult of the outside world and left them all behind.

Lelouch didn’t cry during the funeral but when Schneizel accompanied him to Nunnally’s bedside the boy sobbed and sobbed, his face buried into the covers on his sister’s comatose form, his small body trembling as he climbed up into the gurney to sleep beside her. All Schneizel could think, watching from the doorway, was that he should have killed Marianne himself if only to avoid the effect collateral damage was having on Lelouch’s psyche. He wouldn’t be nearly as traumatized if his sister was still ambulatory, but as things were what happened next was entirely unavoidable.

Twenty-four hours after the funeral Lelouch and Nunnally were left alone, abandoned, and Schneizel moved into his brother’s house. Odysseus came home to his things packed and left very neatly in the driveway. They made eye contact briefly as Schneizel watched from the kitchen window, washing dishes, and he was somewhat disappointed when Odysseus decided to take the hint and left with his things. Schneizel was in the mood for a fight.

Cornelia very nearly gave Schneizel what he wanted.

“I want to see my little brother you son of a bitch.” Cornelia’s glare was devoted entirely to Schneizel. “You tell your little ass-licking cronies to-”

“Quiet, sister.” Schneizel only smiled in return. “Before you make yourself a fool.”

Of all his sisters Schneizel had always liked Cornelia best. She was fiery, impassioned, devoted and difficult to understand on the best of days, but she was equally susceptible to manipulation at the most basic levels. A whisper to a knight about Lelouch being cut off from the family and she was storming in only days later, intent on seeing the boy she’d once threatened to drown at a family picnic.

“My knights are simply there to keep the rabble out.” Schneizel sat back in his chair. “I told them to watch our siblings with the greatest of care. Obviously they took that command a little too far.”

Cornelia flushed and then sat when Schneizel gestured to the empty chair before her.

“I must say though, Cornelia, that your arrival is a fortunate one.” He pointed down to a paper on his desk and said, “Our competition is bound to become aware of the fact that there has been a power shift. When they do it’s highly probable that we’ll have a war on our hands. Will you join me, sister? There is no one I’d rather have by my side.”

Cornelia never asked after Lelouch again.

When he was thirteen Lelouch realized that he hated his life more than he loved his sister and decided to do something about it. Schneizel was alerted of the situation by the Knight who was in charge of keeping the boy safe, a telephone call he took in the middle of a murder trial. Cornelia winked at him from the other side of the courtroom as he snapped the cell shut. Cornelia was wearing a calm, amused smile on her face. She had a disturbing tendency of programming his cell phone and even the prosecutor was speechless as the dulcet tones of a prepubescent Donny Osmond echoed through the packed room over the sound system.

Schneizel smiled, bowed to the wide-eyed jury and excused himself from the stand without a single look back.

It was a small hospital and not very close, but Schneizel made it there before Lelouch did, waiting very patiently until the boy finally showed up nearly half an hour late, courtesy of a convenient flat tire.

For a moment Lelouch was startled, staring with wide eyes in the doorway of the psychologist’s office with his face drawn and pale.

“Schneizel,” he said quietly, a small frown twisting his mouth. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Schneizel merely gestured, pointing at the empty seat beside him until Lelouch walked in slowly, cautiously, and took his place in front of the doctor’s desk. The man was nervous, staring at them both in the tense silence, but he pulled himself together quite admirably when Schneizel gave him the nod to continue the conversation that had been interrupted by Lelouch’s arrival.

“I’m afraid I have to ask if there’s a history of mental illness, Mr. Britannia.” The man peered down at the document on his desk. “If this is a chemical problem therapy can only go so far.”

“His grandfather on his mother’s side was bipolar,” Schneizel said, doing his best not to smile. “And I’m sure you can make the appropriate assumptions about the other half of his DNA.”

The doctor looked Schneizel straight in the eye for the first time, pressing his lips into a thin line as he murmured, “Yes, Mr. Britannia, I can make an educated guess, but I’d rather not. An accurate family history can be crucial to a diagnosis. If confidentiality is the issue-”

“Lelouch has a fully developed conscience and hasn’t displayed any aggressive tendencies,” Schneizel said quietly, trying to decide if he should be impressed by the doctor’s insistence or annoyed by the lack of respect. “He did, however, witness his mother’s murder and is the primary caregiver for his younger, disabled sister.”

The man frowned, giving Schneizel a hard stare.

“A child is the primary caregiver for a disabled sibling… Who cares for Lelouch?”

“Our father is absent and his mother is dead. Lelouch cares for Lelouch.” Schneizel smiled then as the man looked over to where Lelouch was sitting back, staring at the wall. “When he is old enough Lelouch will have the option of rejoining the family as an adult. For now he is entirely capable of taking care of himself.”

Lelouch’s eyes didn’t once stray from the corner, but his hands tensed when the doctor asked, “Then why is it that you’re here now, Mr. Britannia, if this young man is so capable of taking care of himself?”

Schneizel decided to be a little more than annoyed as Lelouch’s knuckles whitened and he found himself speechless, an entirely unique and discomforting situation. He wanted to say ‘Someone has to,’ but that was a lie, and it wasn’t as if his concern stemmed from any familial loyalties, because Schneizel actually functioned on the lack of such bonds. The logical conclusion would be a bond of affection, of love, but Schneizel was fully aware that for him love was about as accessible as the source of the Nile.

Finally Schneizel settled with a highly unsatisfactory, “I am in charge of managing the assets of the Britannian establishment. Lelouch is only useful if he is mentally stable and obviously that stability has come into question.”

Lelouch interrupted three years of non-communication by turning in his chair, giving Schneizel an odd, appalled look, and blurting, “Fuck you.”

Schneizel smirked, his annoyance lost to amusement as Lelouch continued, “…you asshole…”

“If this about to denigrate into family counseling I’m afraid I’ll have to leave,” Schneizel looked back to see a restrained expression on the Doctor’s face. “I can’t afford to establish a precedent for that sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing…”

Schneizel identified what the doctor was trying to mask. The man was fascinated.

“Caring,” Schneizel said shortly, standing and looking over Lelouch with a practiced eye. “Watch that you don’t become media fodder, little brother. We wouldn’t want to reinforce certain misconceptions, would we?”

“What, like the rumor that we’re all insane?!” Lelouch was turning red, his voice rising into a yell as he became animated by anger. He’d never looked more like his mother than he did when he snapped, “Saying otherwise would be lying.”

Schneizel looked down, pleased, and added, “And if you must resort to a pharmaceutical crutch please keep in consideration that Cornelia can provide you with a variety of quality antidepressants for free.”

“You’re-!” Lelouch paused suddenly, a tirade clearly on the tip of his tongue until the look in his eyes shifted, went sharp. “You’re mocking me.”

“That would imply possessing a sense of humor.” Schneizel nearly made himself a liar by laughing. “I assure you, littlest prince, that I don’t find this situation to be amusing in the slightest.”

Lelouch scowled back fiercely. “You’ve been taking advantage of Cornelia’s pharmaceutical knowledge on a regular basis if you expect me to buy that bullshit.”

Schneizel leaned forward, looked down into Lelouch’s startling, bright eyes and smiled. Then he tapped him once, gently on the nose.

“On the contrary,” Schneizel murmured, “You’ll find, Lelouch, that I have little to no expectations of you at all.”

The anger in Lelouch’s eyes dimmed into heated, nearly veiled suspicion. Nearly. Schneizel felt his heart jump suddenly as that look dulled into placid, flat regard.

Looking down the barrel of a loaded gun didn’t make Schneizel’s blood so much as stutter and he was never chilled by cold iron around his wrists, but those magnificent eyes… Schneizel felt as if he was in a perpetual state of waiting, his breath caught on the potential in that tantalizing mixture of intelligence and understanding. It was a liquid, slow feeling to look in those eyes and see nothing of himself, just Lelouch and Lelouch’s regard.

“After all, you’ve proven yourself to be quite ordinary.” Schneizel stood straight and peered down, smiling. “Below average grades in your classes, little ambition, regular and sedentary habits. In fact, I’m surprised that someone so dull would even have the wherewithal to be depressed by his lot in life, though I have to admit that most self-respecting human beings would have killed themselves rather than allowing themselves to wallow in such a state.”

“Why are you here, Schneizel?” Lelouch was giving Schneizel his full attention and it felt better than Schneizel had thought it would. “It’s obvious you’re not here for moral support.”

“Morality is such a tender subject.” Schneizel made his way to the door. “One which I will happily discuss if you manage to shake off your mediocrity.”

Lelouch didn’t reply and Schneizel hadn’t expected him to, would have been disappointed if he had, but he gave him such a look that Schneizel understood exactly where they were headed: suspicion, distrust, anger…and hope. Schneizel could only imagine what it felt like to hide such intellect under a façade, how careful Lelouch must have been to culture such a lie in order to keep himself safe, to not be perceived as competition in a den of thieves.

“What will it take?” Lelouch’s face was a waiting mask, but his hands were trembling, anxious.

“Ahhh…” Schneizel smiled. “That’s an entirely different conversation. Take care of yourself first, brother, and then maybe-”

Schneizel took one last look at him, at Lelouch and those eyes, that face looking up, pale and perfect like a mask, and shut the door behind himself with a low, comfortable laugh.

Seeing Lelouch again, talking to him, just felt good.

It felt even better to know that Lelouch, in search of independence, would soon be following behind.

Schneizel thought, Maybe I’ll take care of you.

“Your transportation is here.” Schneizel watched as Lelouch startled, his head jerking, hair swinging as they made eye contact in his bedroom mirror. Lelouch blushed and looked away, pulling at the hem of his uniform again with a small sigh.

“That’s understandable,” Lelouch murmured, straightening his collar. “The question is why you’re here, Schneizel.”

“It’s your first day of public school.” Schneizel stepped forward to stand just behind him, rested a hand lightly on Lelouch’s shoulder and leaned in to say, “Isn’t that what older brothers do?”

Lelouch raised an eyebrow in a delicate arch, but didn’t shrug Schneizel’s hand away, instead saying, “I wouldn’t know, and neither would you unless there’s a side to Odysseus that he’s very cleverly hidden away from the rest of us.”

“I’ll pass on the anticipated comment concerning Odysseus and cleverness.” Schneizel fell away, feeling and reveling in Lelouch’s sting. It was like watching something beautiful unfurl as Lelouch allowed himself to peek through his armor of nonchalance. Schneizel had given him a new armor, a stronger shield of protection, but Lelouch had yet to don those guards as he fought against the inevitable.

“…And it’s hardly public school,” Lelouch muttered, pulling at the knot of his tie. “I wouldn’t have to wear this ridiculous outfit to public school.”

“The price of a superior education, unfortunately.” Schneizel turned Lelouch and straightened the tie himself, loosening the tight knot Lelouch had cinched against his own throat. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of things.” Lelouch stared back, looking grim. “What are you doing here, Schneizel?”

Schneizel gripped the knot with the tips of his fingers, looked down and smiled. “I told you. It’s what brothers do.”

“Care?” Lelouch asked, his face twisted in disbelief. “Is this you caring?”

“God forbid.” Schneizel tugged his tie with a smirk. “Whatever would you do if someone cared, Lelouch?”

Lelouch didn’t answer, but his stare began to form into a glare of truly epic proportions.

“Teenagers.” Schneizel tapped him on the nose. “Perhaps you should change your electives. Drama instead of chess? Both talents are equally splendid-”

“Yes, and you can best me at both, can’t you, brother?”

“That remains to be seen.” Schneizel turned away so that Lelouch couldn’t see his grin. “Better hurry, Lelouch, or you’ll be late on your first day.”

“I’ll be late if I want,” Lelouch snapped, clearly about to huff his way out of the room. Instead, Schneizel turned sharply, snatching him by the shoulder and jerking him back. Lelouch’s scowl slipped in surprise and they were left staring at each other as Schneizel tried to understand how it was so easy to move from fond, teasing affection to cutting anger in only a breath.

Schneizel only let Lelouch go when the boy looked away, unsettled and compliant as he tried to rub the pain of Schneizel’s grip out of his shoulder.

Then Lelouch laughed and it was a horrible, despondent sound as he shook his head in understanding.

“I won’t be late,” Lelouch said, his eyes turned resolutely to the floor. “…I’ll stick to chess.”

Schneizel stood tall and murmured, “I think that’s best.”

Lelouch only nodded and it was clear to them both at that moment that if he had fought back Schneizel never would have let him leave, let alone be late to this new school. But Schneizel did allow Lelouch to leave. He wondered if he would be able to allow himself to do as much again. Now that he had Lelouch under his protection, his watchful eye, and following his orders…

Nothing but taking his father’s place had ever been more thrilling.

Lelouch grew up too fast. One moment Schneizel was watching him walk studiously into his car for school, straight-backed and thinking great thoughts, no doubt, and the next Lelouch was grinning fiercely, bruised and bloody with the hulk of what had been a motorcycle spilling oil all over the concrete only a few yards away.

For the first time in his adulthood Schneizel experienced a moment of great, yawning terror. He was only there by chance, had stopped by at Lloyd’s insistence only to be presented with something that resembled true fear, the smile of a dead woman on a boy too young to die. Lelouch was laughing, blood dripping from a shallow cut on his temple, scratched and bruised but spectacularly unharmed as he allowed himself to be rescued by a few wide-eyed knights. Schneizel observed silently, standing very still as another bike raced around the corner.

Jeremiah looked almost as terrified as Schneizel felt and for a moment Schneizel had to wonder if they were both making up for Lelouch’s lack. It only took a moment.

“Break his arm,” Schneizel ordered, shoving them away and hauling Lelouch up by the shoulder. The men around him, the knights, stared with wide eyes and growing horror, but still Lelouch seemed unafraid. It was that obstinacy that turned Schneizel’s mind from fear and towards rage.

Then Jeremiah stepped forward, pushing the others out of the way, grasped Lelouch by the wrist and did as he was told. Schneizel felt a single sharp pang of regret at the pitch of Lelouch’s scream and held the boy up as his knees buckled with one arm wrapped firmly around his slim waist. The other knights looked away, pale, as Jeremiah stepped back with a short bow.

After a few moments Schneizel let Lelouch fall, thinking that he had perhaps been holding Lelouch up for too long.

“You’re very lucky to walk away from a crash like that with only a broken arm,” Schneizel said, never once turning his gaze away from Lelouch’s furious, agonized glare. He bent over and grabbed the boy by the jaw, blood and tears warm under his fingers and whispered, “I would advise you to not be so reckless again.”

Lelouch went very still and Schneizel could see it building behind those eyes but he still flinched when Lelouch erupted into a sudden fit of hysterical laughter.

Schneizel didn’t slap him but it was a close thing.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Lelouch grinned, a wide and wild thing. “Schneizel, you- You think you know, but you don’t. You don’t know me. You can’t break me, you crazy fuck.”

Lelouch was fourteen years old and his words were a truth Schneizel had only quietly desired.

Lelouch was fourteen years old and for the first time in years Schneizel really smiled, looked into that ordered madness, and saw himself as he had once been, pushing as hard as could just to find out where the consequences would lead him.

Now that he was grown Schneizel knew the distinction between breaking and collaring and that would make all the difference in the years to come. He watched avidly as Lelouch’s curses began to slur into the pain, becoming more vehement and inventive with every moment he spent grasping for consciousness. Eventually that all subsided into the harsh pants of pain but every word was sharp in Lelouch’s eyes even when he gave up his glare for a simple grimace of misery and despair.

That was just enough.

One of the things Schneizel had never been capable of truly understanding was his brother: not Lelouch, but instead Clovis. Lelouch was something different, because Schneizel couldn’t bear to put the two into the same category. Schneizel didn’t understand Clovis, didn’t like him, but was fully capable of controlling the man utterly. Fear was always powerful motivation and Clovis had excellent instincts when it came to interacting with powerful people, if nothing else.

Well, Schneizel decided, Clovis had more talents than he gave the man credit for. They just weren’t the useful kinds.

“Schneizel,” Clovis swallowed and jerked forward in a quick step. “This is unexpected.”

Schneizel ignored him in favor of looking at the painting on the wall. It was of Clovis’s mother, a frail but elegant thing that became captivating when formed by Clovis’ brush. She was hideous as a person but none of that showed in the image of her gazing down at an opera from her private box. She looked wistful, in an unguarded moment, and Schneizel began to wonder if he’d overlooked Clovis’ usefulness. Schneizel said nothing to the nervous figure at his side and moved on to the next painting. It was of their father and flattering. Schneizel wondered if that was because Clovis had never seen him in an unguarded moment and wondered idly if such a thing could ever occur.

Clovis would never glimpse Schneizel in an unguarded moment. He knew, because Lelouch had proven that much. He pretended to go on gazing at the various paintings but while his eyes roved Schneizel began to alter his previous plans. Cutting off Clovis might actually be an inadvisable venture after all. He wasn’t actually useless, but the convincing act had nearly been his downfall instead of his shield. It was all very ironic and Schneizel told him so. Then, while the fear of abandonment was still in Clovis’s eyes, Schneizel offered him a job. Clovis took it, was actually grateful for it, and it was just that easy to turn a person into a tool. Effortless.

It wouldn’t be effortless with Lelouch. Just as he had professed, Lelouch would never be broken because while the expression on Clovis’s face was gratifying, Schneizel knew he’d kill Lelouch before he made him grovel in fear and there was simply no other way to make the boy break.

Lelouch, Schneizel inwardly sighed. He was spending too much time pondering Lelouch. He could easily compare his fascination to a functional alcoholic, able to work but not without the object of his fascination’s silent presence in his mind.

Schneizel would tell himself later that it was this addiction that made him overlook the spark of hatred in Clovis’s eyes before he went to his knee and bowed.

Instead Schneizel walked out wondering if he could slip Lelouch into a painting or if he would hoard every unguarded moment for himself.

There was something gratifying about the fact that when Lelouch showed up covered in blood and clutching a knife in the middle of the night, it was Schneizel’s doorstep he stood on. Schneizel had come to the door after recognizing Lelouch’s shape in the shadows and felt a little underdressed in his nightclothes. Eventually Schneizel had realized he hadn’t actually managed to drive the boy into a killing frenzy and that Lelouch was instead vehemently terrified, his eyes wild and bright in the porch light. But it had taken a moment, because Schneizel had been distracted by Lelouch’s wide, wide eyes.

The fact that Lelouch had come to Schneizel was in its own way satisfying but less so than the thought that Schneizel himself had been able to penetrate his self-control. Lelouch had spent his months nursing his self-will and independence along with his broken arm. Looking at his bloodied forearms and ashen face Schneizel had to wonder how much it had cost him to break away from his shielding presence in search of freedom.

“I think it’s about time for you to learn how to use a gun,” Schneizel said, beckoning him into the hall. “You’re not suited for close-quarter conflicts, Lelouch.”

Schneizel flipped on the kitchen light and poured tap water into the kettle, surveying the road outside just in time to see the legs of the knight standing guard get dragged into the shadows of the neighbor’s yard. A dog barked once and then went silent with a yelp. Schneizel sighed and set the kettle on the stove. It was always tiresome to have to deal with amateurs. They made sloppy mistakes and were difficult to predict beyond the general scope of idiocy and lack of professionalism that was rampant beyond Britannia’s reach.

Xing-ke needed to recruit more capable subordinates, he mused. Accurate reconnaissance was nullified by incompetent backup and the gesture of attack was fumbling and awkward, nothing like the man’s own personal elegance. Schneizel began to consider the possibility of an inner-conflict in the Chinese Federation as he prepared himself for the upcoming conflict. That sort of chaos would certainly confuse the morale and ranks and they were likely to pick up extra man-power from the streets as their own people died off and make desperate grabs for leverage leaving their small army inexperienced and untested.

The front door slammed shut and the single lock on the door was put in place. Schneizel listened with a smile as Lelouch raced through the house in a series of adorable, frantic crashes to lock all the doors and windows. He watched the stove in anticipation and grinned when Lelouch yelped at the sound of the shrieking kettle. When the boy stumbled into the kitchen he was panting but visibly composed when he turned the lights off, hissing, “They can see you.”

Schneizel flicked the light back on from his side of the kitchen and murmured, “Yes, and it would be rather convenient to see them as well.”

Schneizel glanced over his shoulder to catch Lelouch’s blush and pulled his backup weapon out of the empty take-out carton in the trash can. He tossed it to Lelouch along with the extra clip and then removed his primary weapon from the small of his back. Lelouch had been standing there with a knife after all and Schneizel hadn’t survived being a prince so long only to be stabbed by his younger brother.

Lelouch missed the catch and had to stick his hand under the stove to get the gun out again, cursing with a bewildered, “The trash?!”

And the toilet tank, the linen closet, his closet in a pair of boots, the pocket of his jacket in the laundry room, the old VHS under the TV, the stove, a vase, a flower pot, a light fixture, and not to mention the rather varied arsenal in his comfortable den-like panic room that had yet to be used. Schneizel had learned the power of blood and dead bodies and began to feel a little unsettled when he hadn’t gotten blood on his hands after a prolonged period of time. Besides, he reasoned while admiring the creeping bloodlust in Lelouch’s eyes, a little firefight was always a wonderful bonding experience. You never really knew a man until you had witnessed him taking a life. Schneizel counted himself fortunate when said man was performing under his direct orders and did so with efficiency and an attitude appropriate to the situation.

“Where are your knights?” Lelouch at least knew how to remove the safety and held the weapon like he had actually used one, which Schneizel doubted. Schneizel pulled out two mugs and Lelouch added, “You crazy goddamned bastard. What the fuck are you doing?”

“I distaste stating the obvious,” Schneizel replied, amused. “Chamomile will settle your nerves but I have a general assortment if you’d prefer something more elaborate.”

Schneizel observed Lelouch’s expression in the reflection of his bullet-proofed window and added, “Kindly close your mouth, that’s a particularly unattractive look for you.”

Lelouch snapped his mouth shut and gestured rudely. Schneizel forgave him his frustration and said, “The chamomile then.”

The lights flickered before going dark. Schneizel picked out a pair of prongs and let it hover over the gas flame as he dropped the tea bags and picked up his weapon, staying in the shadows as Lelouch ducked down and pressed himself into the cupboards by Schneizel’s legs. The press of his body was a long, warm line that seeped through Schneizel’s thin pants and made his calm falter a little. All at once his certainty was dissolved as he looked down at Lelouch’s waiting crouch. He was very small but not cowering and the sight, the feel of his body stiff and not trembling made Schneizel … sentimental.

Schneizel shoved Lelouch away with his leg and turned the stove off, the red-hot prongs in his left hand and his gun in the right. He made a mental note to buy new prongs and whispered, “You go right. Stay low and wait for them to come down the stairs.” A window upstairs opened with a creak. “Either stay in the shadow of the coat hanger or climb up into the top shelf of the closet.”

Lelouch’s eyes were wide and rimmed in white but he only stared for a moment before nodding and silently moving into position. It was a little startling for Schneizel to observe that absolute silence and Lelouch’s easy grace. He was forced to alter his plans. He had been counting on Lelouch to be a distraction. Instead of following behind he decided to move into the guest bathroom. Apparently Xing-ke’s men liked climbing through the windows instead of using doors like civil human beings.

There was another soft creak, a brief tap against porcelain, and Schneizel had shoved the prongs through the man’s eye and into his brain before he had a chance to round the corner. He used the hold to keep the corpse upright long enough to snatch his weapon from the jerking hand. It was easy to shoot the second man crouching outside as he was distracted by a series of gunshots from the hall. Schneizel counted two thumps in the initial volley and another after a short curse followed by an exclamation that was surely, “Where is it coming from,” which meant Lelouch had taken the correct option of the closet rather than sitting on the ground in their eye-line and waiting to be killed.

Lelouch really had the most wonderful mind for tactical analysis. All those hours of chess had translated into actual combat, just as Schneizel had hoped they would. He moved into the front room and shot the two men ducked in the hallway, adding a round into the wounded man they were clutching for good measure.

The front door slammed open and Schneizel realized that he hadn’t checked to see if Lelouch knew how to reload. If he didn’t… Schneizel swallowed his sudden apprehension and concentrated, ducking back into the shadows of the dining room as yelling and shots being fired in the street ruined his ability to hear tell-tale creaks inside.

Lelouch stayed quiet and kept his single round to himself as two men charged through the house firing in sprays of bullets. The only choice was to duck back into the kitchen and grab his own machine gun out of the oven before stepping nimbly into the hall and firing a few rounds, slipping the weapon through the slit in the closet door as the men ducked out of sight.

There was a moment in between a silence and the returning fire flashing from Lelouch’s revealed hiding space that Schneizel realized that he was probably very close to having fun. It was an odd sensation but not objectionable and certainly didn’t alter the thrill when he finally moved forward in the deathly silence and almost got shot in the face.

Lelouch didn’t give up his weapon when Schneizel held out his hand but grabbed it fiercely with his own, desperately pulling Schneizel forward as he made small, sharp and anxious noises that he eventually silenced by shoving his face into Schneizel’s neck. He grasped Schneizel hard as he allowed himself to be pulled down to the ground and to safety. The sound of knights clamoring inside startled him into grasping Schneizel even tighter still, his fingers leaving a scatter of painful bruises.

Schneizel palmed his neck tentatively, touching the slim column and feeling the race of Lelouch’s heart against his splayed fingers. The flickering lights, the chaos of discovery and anger slipped into nothing as Schneizel lost sense of his surroundings, ignoring it all in favor of wondering what he should do with his second hand, the hand that had dropped his own gun in lieu of pulling Lelouch safely from his perch.

In the end Schneizel let his hand slip down Lelouch’s back to reinforce the embrace. The move unexpectedly turned Lelouch’s gasps into choking sobs, but Schneizel didn’t feel worry for it or pity.

No, what Schneizel felt while holding Lelouch in his arms was something entirely different.

Only one man survived the assault on Britannia and that miracle was facilitated by three hours of surgery for the unfortunate’s gouged eye, his severed genitals, and a stab wound that would have, given a little extra force, bisected the man’s liver. Lelouch had trouble with a gun but someone had clearly taught him how to wield a blade.

It was somewhat of a surprise to be told that the man’s body had been found in a nearby alley next to Lelouch’s new motorcycle along with two others; a knight and another assailant. Jeremiah had managed to stagger into a very surprised young lady’s bedroom to call for backup before passing out from blood loss. While they set up the last man for interrogation, Schneizel was in his front room with Lelouch, peeling off his shirt to remove the tacky blood that was drying underneath. He was very quiet and unusually subdued, only hissing a little when Schneizel rubbed at the sticky red stain covering the impressive bruise blooming on his shoulder. It seemed he hadn’t been expecting the kickback from the submachine gun.

“We haven’t had a chess match for some time now,” Schneizel murmured as he slid an alcohol wipe against a shallow cut on Lelouch’s back. Lelouch gave him a single glance before staring back down at the blood-stained carpet.

“That’s because I loathe you,” he said simply, eyes closing.

Schneizel, amused, returned, “Do you?”

“Passionately,” Lelouch whispered, his head dipping lower as his shoulders went slack.

“Passion, at such a young age?” Schneizel slid a damp finger down his spine and smirked when Lelouch’s posture straightened in reflex and he turned back to glare fiercely. “I doubt that very much. And loathing?”

Schneizel tilted Lelouch’s head up until his hair fell away to look into his narrowed eyes.

“Loathing implies a degree of disgust.” Schneizel wiped a speck of blood with his thumb, smearing a dark line of burgundy over Lelouch’s cheekbone. It stood out like a gash on his pale skin. “You don’t know me well enough to be disgusted, Lelouch.”

Lelouch jerked his face out of Schneizel’s grip and stood to leave. He didn’t make it far, stopping in the middle of the front room to put his hands over his eyes and sigh deeply, weariness making his limbs slack as he said, “Tell me you didn’t plan this.”

“I didn’t plan this,” Schneizel leaned back and watched, arms crossed. “But you already know that. Your real question,” Schneizel smiled up at the ceiling, musing, “is regarding a similar issue, but not that one particularly.”

“I think I hate you,” Lelouch said after a long pause. “I’ve never hated someone before.”

Schneizel’s fondness for Lelouch felt like it was trying to push out of his chest, a sharp, full feeling that was alien and a strange relief. It was as if the sensation of his fingers sliding against the soft line of Lelouch’s neck had turned liquid and made the world warm, the air thick and yielding. He didn’t understand, but he wanted to understand. For Schneizel it had been an interminably long time since he felt something new, and a longer time since he wanted to feel anything at all.

He was drunk on it, but there was only sharpness as Lelouch turned on him with despairing eyes and said, “I’m tired of being your fucking toy, Schneizel. I’m tired of the manipulation. I’m tired of-” Lelouch’s hands fisted and he looked, god, so desperate.

“I’m sick of having to think about you!” Lelouch took a step forward and Schneizel knew that if he still had a gun it would be in his hand and pointed at Schneizel’s blank, watching expression. “Of having to wonder… But that’s what you want and I know it you fucking bastard.”

And that knowledge was why Schneizel kept his presence in Lelouch’s life, but that fact was irrelevant as the situation turned tenuous. He knew Lelouch’s mind and Lelouch’s moods, but he couldn’t comprehend what Lelouch felt, could never know for sure. The confusion of his age and station was only a kinetic surface but underneath-

The underneath was what Schneizel itched to see, was desperate to see. He wanted to see the person who would form from the mix of fierce understanding, relentless survival instinct, and a mind that could build and deconstruct in a breath only to do it again and again. Schneizel was desperate to see Lelouch become his equal in everything that mattered, and some things that didn’t. He wanted Lelouch to look at him and feel the same pressure of fascination, the same sharp attachment, and was euphoric at the sight of his own relentless need for understanding reflected back in Lelouch’s desperateness. But Lelouch lacked the necessary control to turn those tools on anyone but himself and was very likely about to say something unforgivable.

Before Lelouch could yell, I want you to leave me alone, Schneizel looked him in the eyes and said, “I am the only person who will never lie to you.”

Lelouch flinched back, his expression twisting with fear that he hadn’t displayed even at the thought of death.

“That is why you came to my doorstep tonight, instead of to Cornelia and Guilford who were closest to the scene or the Rounds safe house only two doors down, littlest prince. You came here for protection because no matter how much you might hate me, you trust me more.”

Schneizel stood and Lelouch took a step back, his eyes full of a grief Schneizel couldn’t understand. He stood, hand splayed in the air as if to shield himself from Schneizel’s words.

They were standing in Schneizel’s front room, bloodied, dead bodies still resting around them under white streets, when Schneizel realized what that sharp feeling was. He grabbed Lelouch by the wrist, jerked him forward and nearly kissed him with a sentiment that was leagues away from brotherly fondness. Instead he brought Lelouch close with a tight grip and murmured, “It’s why you let me see you cry.”

“I-” Lelouch wanted to cry again, Schneizel could see it in the lines of his denial across his face. “I don’t-”

Schneizel did kiss him then. He palmed the back of his neck, fingers slipping up into his hair and pressed his lips against Lelouch’s forehead like he’d seen mothers do as they said, “Hush.”

He wanted to lick the blood from Lelouch’s cheek, thread both hands into his soft hair and take his mouth when it was surprised and slack. He wanted to slip his tongue against Lelouch’s lips and open his own to catch Lelouch’s gasp.

Schneizel relived his memories in a series of single moments: holding Guinevere’s cat and wondering if he had the strength; slipping his hand into a cradle; watching Odysseus’s house from the street; smiling at Cornelia from his desk; staring at a string of paintings; and now, in his living room, caught in between what he knew was supposed to be the right thing to do and what he wanted. There were no lines left to cross, and Schneizel knew he was capable of doing anything, but then there was Lelouch and some terrible thing that might be love or conscience or reason that commanded, wait.

It was the first time in his life that Schneizel decided not to do as he wished and it made him very angry. There was no control to grasp in the purgatory between yes and no.

“Now,” Schneizel said, dropping his hands with a smile, “I’m going to start a war. Would you like to come along?”

Lelouch pulled himself together by letting his mind consider what suddenly seemed a more important subject but wasn’t. His features solidified as he thought for a moment, nodded slightly (bowed, a part of Schneizel amended) and said, “Yes.”

The next time Schneizel touched Lelouch, it was to press one hand hard against his thigh as he pulled his own belt free with the other.

“It’s okay,” Lelouch murmured, pale and sprawled bonelessly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Schneizel looked down at the ground where a large puddle of blood was quickly spreading, turning the sidewalk red. He sighed, looped the belt around Lelouch’s upper thigh and pulled hard.

“I can’t even feel anything.” Lelouch tried to sit up and rebounded against the pavement with a groan when Schneizel shoved a hand against his sternum. “Ow.”

A bullet slid through Schneizel’s hair and buried itself into a nearby motorcycle, perilously close to the gasoline tank.

“Did you just swear?” Lelouch pulled himself together long enough to be delighted. “You did! You said fuck.”

Next to him Nonette returned fire, taking cover behind the abused bike as Schneizel attempted to take care of his dying brother. He didn’t know if her smile was borne of amusement or the joy of a proper gunfight.

“The only reason I’m not beating you,” Schneizel snapped back, “Is because one of my hands is on your femoral artery, you little fool.”

“Prince Schneizel.” Nonnete’s voice took on a worrying edge. “You need to find cover, your highness. You’ve done all you can for Prince Lelouch. We can take care of the rest.”

Schneizel knew it was the truth and the rational action to take, and it was in that moment that he decided he was going to give in to what he wanted, all of what he wanted, because he would rather die than watch Lelouch die. There had to be a balance, even if only in his own mind. Another round of bullets went off and Schneizel was forced to sling Lelouch over his shoulder and use his bloodied hand to return fire as he ducked back behind the car with Cornelia. She was grinning more brightly than Nonette.

“You do realize that we’re effectively facilitating a coup.” She made a few hand signals to Guilford and he darted into the street, not even bothering to return fire as he threw what appeared to be a grenade into the Chinese Federation’s base of operation. Schneizel waited for the explosion but was rewarded with a series of shrieking screams. He understood why the knights had barricaded the building and positioned themselves on the roof when one of the painted elite of the Chinese Federation threw himself out of the window, falling three stories down with a sickening crunch.

Someone shot out a second window and Guilford put on a gas mask before throwing another grenade into the next level. It landed neatly through the shattered glass and another two men fell from the building. On the second level one man never made it past the sill as his throat was instantly slit by a sharp remnant of the window. He was pushed out and the second man landed on the corpse. He managed to stand, clawing at his throat, but was dropped by a neat head-shot care of Cornelia’s rifle.

“Viva la revolution.” Lelouch laughed without reservation, his shoulders shaking. Schneizel blamed the blood loss. “Heartless bitch. Shooting helpless people.”

Cornelia dropped another body up on the roof and grinned. “Mouthy little shit.”

Xing-ke and his young charge raced out of the front door surrounded by Round’s White with masks already on their faces. The girl kept looking up at the house and then back to Xing-ke with wide, bewildered eyes. But, Xing-ke was swift, orderly, and so indebted to Britannia that Lelouch’s injury was almost worth the risk.

“You’ve got no room calling anyone heartless,” Cornelia shot off another round with a smirk. “Does big brother know that this was your idea?”

Schneizel paused, his worry turning into astonishment as he looked at Lelouch, watching as he tried to turn his smile into something more sedate. He kept his eyes on Cornelia, slurring, “Shhh… Um.”

“Well he does now.” She snorted. “Another Machiavellian brat-prince. There has to be something in the genes.”

Bad blood, Schneizel thought, sighing softly as Lloyd finally made it on-scene. Lloyd gave out quick orders and Schneizel could only watch as he worked, holding a bag of O- high and out of the way as Lloyd started surgery immediately, saying, “No morphine for morons,” when Lelouch finally groaned, wincing away from his touch. Schneizel reached over and put a hand around his neck, squeezing just hard enough to make Lelouch freeze, not so delirious to forget that Schneizel was fully capable of strangling him. Schneizel was ashamed then for having such a weakness as Lelouch and fully aware of the irony in that shame. Of all his feelings concerning Lelouch to be ashamed of, holding his life above Schneizel’s duty was too little, too late.

Police sirens sounded in the distance just as the screams in the house went silent. A large vehicle pulled up immediately, driven by Lloyd’s young assistant, and Schneizel took a moment to be amused at the ingenuity of acquiring an actual ambulance. Lelouch went in first, then a young Rounds member, and then the dead knight sprawled a few meters from Nonnete’s bike. The back of the man’s head was dripping grey chunks of brain, a single bullet hole between his open, glassy eyes. How Lelouch had ever imagined the man could be saved was a mystery. Schneizel and Cornelia crowded in behind them, picking up Guilford a few yards away as a chorus of motorcycle engines came to life and scattered.

They drove past the police cars with a wave and a smile, sirens blaring.

Lelouch sighed, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Perfect.”

Schneizel watched his smile all the way home.

Lelouch was nearly fifteen when Schneizel took his pawn and said, “I’m assuming you have some sort of exit strategy.”

For a moment Lelouch peered down at the board between them, a frown on his face. He was still bedbound, his leg bandaged tightly and his right hand attached to a saline drip. He was playing with his left and Schneizel found himself distracted by the care Lelouch took to move each piece as elegantly as when he used his dominant hand.

“I…” Lelouch frowned for a moment as he tried to relate the game they were playing and Schneizel’s statement. Schneizel could see the moment when he figured out the implications. Lelouch’s expression turned smooth as he moved his king and said, “I’m a prince.”

Schneizel, pleased with the non-answer, simply nodded. They were into their third game when he raised his left hand and let his fingers move against the curve of Lelouch’s wrist. He had inherited his mother’s hands, with long fingers and slim wrists, his pale skin revealing a web of blue as he fumbled his piece and started a domino effect on the board. Schneizel reached out and stabilized the set before it could tip off of Lelouch’s lap and watched as a blush rose on Lelouch’s cheeks. He righted the pieces by memory and Schneizel found himself a little disappointed that Lelouch hadn’t tried to cheat. Instead he swallowed, his hand jerking a little but not moving away from Schneizel’s light touch.

They spent a long time not looking at each other. Lelouch’s eyes settled resolutely on his king in an approximation of his usual planning stare, as if plotting his next move instead of avoiding the sweep of Schneizel’s eyes.

“Are you going to move?” Schneizel inquired softly, wanting to brush the bangs away from Lelouch’s eyes but not willing to chance startling him again. He had nowhere to retreat to and Schneizel didn’t want to scare Lelouch, he just wanted… Schneizel didn’t really know what he wanted, but he knew what he was going to get if he pushed.

After a long moment Lelouch said, “It’s not my turn.”

Schneizel leaned over and captured Lelouch’s bishop.

“Next time,” he said, “Just let the Rounds die. You say you are a prince but you do not act as one when it matters. Who would lose if you were to die? No one. There would only be gain.”

Lelouch’s hand hovered over the board and he gave Schneizel an odd, sideways stare before finally glancing down at where their skin touched.

“The Chinese Federation made a similar assumption.” Lelouch almost met Schneizel’s eyes in a casual sweep. “Look where they are now. A botched ransom attempt cost them dozens of lives and millions of dollars.”

“You belong to Britannia.” Schneizel turned his caress into a grip that made Lelouch wince. “And there are rules that cannot be crossed. I could protect you when you were a pawn, Lelouch, but now you are a player and my position in this family takes priority over your life.”

Lelouch met his eyes then, his own dark and piercing as he demanded, “And when you invited me to war, did you think of this? Isn’t this what you wanted, for me to be a player?”

They stared at each other for a long time, but Schneizel couldn’t ascertain what Lelouch was looking for, so it was a useless thing to do even if he always took pleasure in looking into Lelouch’s eyes. Schneizel reached out and Lelouch didn’t flinch away.

“When has what I desire ever been a priority for you, littlest prince?” Schneizel palmed Lelouch’s jaw and drew his thumb across the memory of blood. The skin under his hand was flushed and hot but Lelouch seemed to shiver as Schneizel drew a finger along the curve to pause against the soft, vulnerable skin beneath his chin. He felt when Lelouch finally swallowed, jerking away from his touch.

“Checkmate,” Schneizel said, turning away with that shiver running through his blood. He stood and shrugged into his coat, before adding, “In five moves.”

He was out of the door with his blackberry already in hand when Lelouch started to curse.

Schneizel faced his day, heart racing, but his mind already moving on to less important things. Above all things Schneizel was still a prince, and there wasn’t anything more he could do for Lelouch now that he had taken a life pre-meditatively for his own gain, even if only in a peripheral sense. Lelouch was grown. Schneizel could see that age in his eyes, bright and hard. He had slipped it there himself in a half-breath while standing amidst corpses with Lelouch close enough to whisper.

At the end of the drive Schneizel looked up at the little house dusted with the first brush of winter snow. He could see a single pale face in the window, a little girl with a frown in between her eyes. He fisted the black king from Lelouch’s board in his hand until the edge bit in deeply to the thin skin of his palm. For a moment he considered that cat and felt the moment of decision swelling in his chest. She was a weakness, one Lelouch insisted on baring to the world, right over his heart. It would only help Lelouch to remove that weakness, but… Schneizel sighed and turned back to the car waiting at the curb, exhaust steaming into the air. The warmth in the car was an unsettling pleasure, automatic and instinctive in the way his life used to be before he had slipped his own armor into Lelouch’s hands. He wouldn’t kill her simply because it would paint him a hypocrite even if he was the only one to ever know. Nunnally was Lelouch’s weakness and Lelouch…well, Schneizel wasn’t about to kill off his own weakness even if he should. And besides, Schneizel had promised to be honest with Lelouch and Lelouch would surely suspect, would surely ask if his sister suddenly turned up dead.

And of course Schneizel never broke his promises. For a moment he froze at the absent musing, and catching a glimpse of the rearview mirror he saw himself wide-eyed and startled, mouth open in a ridiculous manner as the thought twisted around his spine and pulled. Over his life it was very likely that he’d broken more promises than he’d kept.

Schneizel locked the car doors, leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, and laughed himself into grinning silence, the wave of humor hitting him harder than the moment he had looked into Lelouch’s crib and realized he was still capable of affection.

Lying to himself had never been so effortless.

Or obvious.

Cornelia was lucky that she was so useful or Schneizel would have killed her the moment he opened the invitation and accompanying bribery threat. It took him five minutes to calm the sudden rage before taking himself to be fitted for an appropriate suit. Neither he nor the tailor enjoyed the experience and the proprietor swallowed nervously as Schneizel’s credit card was processed, tapping the card against the counter until Schneizel glared him into silence.

Guinevere hosted the event, Cornelia blackmailed Schneizel into attending, and all Euphy had to do was show up and smile like her birthday hadn’t interrupted a conference between Britannia and five prominent gang leaders from the west coast, a meeting that had taken six months and Schneizel’s considerable talent in deception tactics to organize. As it was the five would show up to find each other in an empty warehouse, and Schneizel suspected that without outside influence a bloody battle was inevitable. At best he would have to start the process over again with the new leaders produced by a reformation of ranks. And all of it was because Euphemia had lived long enough to turn sixteen which, Schneizel agreed reluctantly as he dressed, was probably a legitimate reason to celebrate.

Schneizel picked up the latest FBI agent posing as his significant other and kissed her in the limo, running his fingers through her short, slick hair with his eyes closed. He touched her everywhere he could, her waist, her inner thighs, running his fingers against soft skin as he murmured, “I thought I told you not to wear any underwear.”

Cornelia had proven at an early age how many dangerous things a woman could hide in a c-cup brassiere.

“I must have forgotten,” the woman murmured back, stretching under him with teasing touches. “Besides, I thought you liked a challenge.”

“Only when the game is worth the outcome.” Schneizel watched, amused, as she tried and failed to conceal her anger. Still, he needed to string her along a little longer. She froze when he reached into his pocket, and relaxed only slightly when Schneizel revealed a pair of earrings: beautiful, disgustingly large diamonds to match the solitaire on her left ring finger.

“I would prefer if you wore these instead,” he said, reaching up to remove what she was already wearing, and smiling when she went stiff and said, “I’ll take those.”

“No need.” Schneizel settled the wiretapped monstrosities safely into the empty box. “They’re too large for your face anyways.” Schneizel inserted the diamonds, stroking the curve of her cheek as he slipped her clutch bag under the seat. She gave him a coy, heated look as she removed her underwear, a silky red affair to match her dress.

It was time for the lovely lady to disappear. Schneizel could no longer take the risk that she was bugged or being tracked and he was tired of having to play espionage with someone who was so poor at her job. The spark of intrigue had faded and Schneizel had his own reasons to be single, reasons that he thought about as he stretched the woman over the seats and lifted her dress up to take her from behind, his hands digging into her slim hips as he thrust inside.

The idea of being single, giving in to his craving with a gesture of absolute finality, was enough to get Schneizel off with quick efficiency. Thankfully the woman didn’t even bother pretending to orgasm. Instead she began to pull herself together with a bewildered expression as she said, “That was different. Is there something bothering you, Schneizel?”

Schneizel had been composed before she ever stopped panting and was pouring himself a glass of wine with a smile on his face.

“Prince Schneizel,” he said, offering up a second glass, laced with something exotic from a small clear bottle. “While dining with royalty you must adhere to protocol.”

Because in the end appearances were almost all that mattered.

Lelouch Lamperouge came to the celebration as the escort of one of Britannia’s younger princesses. He brought a small gift, wore an adequate but not entirely impressive ensemble, and was introduced to Euphemia with a small, polite smile. He bowed only to kiss Euphemia’s proffered hand and though the bow was graceful it seemed practiced. After being offered one of Euphemia’s brilliant smiles in return he joined the milling group of guests, just another attractive face attending the event to even out the female to male ratio. Guinevere was notorious for inviting pretty young men to parties so no one had any reason to suspect otherwise even when every Britannian immediately parted from the route he decided to travel.

The few reporters invited to the function watched the exchange with impatience, holding their cameras in anticipation as Schneizel approached. The function was impressively attended and slightly raucous but the world seemed to pause even as the camera flashes lit up the room when Schneizel bowed deeply to Euphemia and received a deeper curtsey from his sister. After a few murmured words Schneizel held his hand out to receive the black velvet box from his date who was standing awkwardly at his side, already looking uncomfortable and flushed.

“From our esteemed father,” Schneizel lied, making sure that the press could see the view as he opened the lid to expose a tiara of diamonds and pearls. His sister’s eyes widened and she held up one gloved hand to hide her gasp as Cornelia stepped forward with a small bow and plucked the tiara from the box to settle it into Euphemia’s hair.

Euphemia curtsied to her sister before embracing him enthusiastically, as was expected, but the society pages would feature a photo of Schneizel with his hands raised slightly in the air, looking down with raised eyebrows and a bemused smirk as his younger sister bestowed a crushing hug around his middle.

Schneizel could hear Lelouch’s laughter even through the multitude of ridiculous, sentimental coos. It was the same sound he had made as he was bleeding out on the ground, so Schneizel couldn’t help recognizing the delighted tone.

For a few hours Schneizel danced to the sounds of the orchestra. First with Euphemia, then with the undercover agent, Cornelia and Guinevere, and a few young knights who looked at him with eyes full of light and weak hands. In the corner he could see his date drinking yet another glass of champagne as the heat in her intensified, making her desperately thirsty and irrevocably drunk. He caught Nonette’s eye and nodded, watching as she followed the woman into the restroom.

Check, Schneizel thought, and when he finally caught sight of Lelouch dancing gracefully with a smile, he amended, Checkmate.

His sense of accomplishment didn’t last very long. As Schneizel’s fiancée disappeared he began to grow restless, frowning as he waited for the police to arrive. It wasn’t as if the corpse had been carefully hidden and the other FBI agents should have become concerned the moment they lost contact with her. Schneizel grew tired of waiting and dancing, instead going to make concerned inquiries of where his date might have run off to. No one knew. No one had seen her leave.

Schneizel wandered into the darker corners and rooms, his hands in his pockets as he made a cursory show of checking for his wayward companion with a worried frown on his face. What he found, finally, was something far more shocking than a corpse.

Standing behind a column, out of the way and hidden by the shadow in a quiet room there were two bodies pressed closely together and moving. Lelouch looked comfortable pressed between the column and a young man, who had their lips pressed together, one hand cupping his jaw as he opened Lelouch’s mouth and deepened the gentle kiss.

Schneizel felt the blood rush from his face, faint and hollow as he froze, in full view if one of the two happened to glance away, but that didn’t seem likely. Lelouch had a hand clenched in the fabric of the man’s cheap suit, and was exposing the long line of his pale neck with a quiet hum. Sickness fell quickly to rage and Schneizel was striding forward, his hands fisted when Lelouch shifted his body slightly to twine their legs together, pulling hard on the man’s jacket with a small groan of pleasure.

Even in the dark Schneizel caught the brief flash of gold clipped to the man’s belt, the shield, and his rage turned into a feeling of ecstatic satisfaction. He was grinning long before he had pulled out his phone and activated the recording device while simply standing there, plain as day, as the agent clutched Lelouch closer and rubbed against him slightly, pulling at Lelouch’s shirt to slip his hand up underneath.

With every degree of silence, Schneizel moved to capture an alternate angle, just close enough that the zoom feature caught the gleam of Lelouch’s eyes as he smirked against the man’s mouth.

Schneizel felt himself began to stir, passion rousing with breathless insistence in a hot flush, and switched to the camera function to capture the image with a satisfying flash. The man froze, his head jerking to stare in surprise and then horror as he realized who was watching, who had seen. Schneizel sent the information to his sister and his father and felt that passion begin to rage as Lelouch continued to mouth the man’s neck, to slide one hand through his dark hair with a flushed desire that wasn’t in any way feigned.

And then Schneizel froze, his satisfaction going cold as he realized what he had just sent to his father: a picture of his favored, underage son in the midst of kissing a much older law enforcement official. There was no way Charles could ever think that Schneizel hadn’t used Lelouch as bait.

It was at that moment that Lelouch’s left hand came up over the man’s shoulder to expose a slim, black phone. There was no flash, no tell-tale noise, but Lelouch’s fingers worked quickly over the pad before Schneizel could even hope to snatch it out of his hand. Schneizel could picture the image in his mind: himself standing, eyes wide as he stood exposed, his hand still raised in the air holding his blackberry. Caught.

The sound of Lelouch’s phone snapping shut made the agent startle, staring down at Lelouch in horror until Lelouch reached up on the balls of his feet, threaded his hand’s through the man’s hair and began to whisper, Lelouch’s kiss-reddened lips pressed against the shell of his ear. After a moment the man looked to Schneizel and then back to Lelouch with an expression of awe and undeniable respect.

For the first time in his life Schneizel looked upon Lelouch with a deep, silent killing urge, fueled four-fold by a sudden, relentless erection. His cock grew hard as he envisioned his hands around Lelouch’s slim neck, fisted viciously in Lelouch’s hair, digging deep into Lelouch’s chest to shred his heart, his lungs, his spine and kissing his mouth as burning, hot blood slid out.

And then there was nothing because Lelouch only watched him in return, his expression mild and waiting, without a shadow of triumph on his pale face. While confronting Schneizel he wasn’t flushed from anger or passion.

Lelouch said, “Look at your call log,” turned on his heel and strode away with the FBI agent glancing back once and then following like a trained dog.

Schneizel did as he was told, that same calm settling into himself as he scrolled through the two numbers. Cornelia was in her place but instead of the usual speed dial one, Charles vi Britannia, there were the words, ‘Black King’ over a familiar phone number. Schneizel was still staring, speechless, ignoring the sudden, piercing screams to answer an incoming text. It said;

‘In one move’

Schneizel couldn’t stop smiling, helplessly charmed, even when they told him his fiancée had been found in the coat closet, raped and dead.

There was something meditative about being interrogated by two hostile men in a small, cold, mirrored room.

“You don’t seem very upset about your fiancée’s death,” a young man with sharp, dark eyes observed. “In fact, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Why is that, Schneizel?”

“I’d just received an amusing message,” Schneizel leaned against his hand and let his shoulders slump in weariness, but he didn’t attempt to mourn when all he could think of was Lelouch. His mind had become feverish, obsessive, and he wanted nothing more than to be with his brother. But, he owed a duty to the dead.

“Your fiancée had been killed.” The second man leaned over, slamming the flat of his palms against the table. “What kind of sick fuck finds that amusing?”

“Perhaps I have a different method of mourning.” Schneizel watched curiously, meeting the man’s eyes with taunting nonchalance. “What would you have me do, collapse and wail in grief? Or perhaps I should don sackcloth and cover my face in ashes.” Schneizel hummed softly, looking at his own reflection in boredom. “But if I did that every time someone close to me died I’d never get any work done, and I have a responsibility to my living relatives.”

Schneizel’s attention snapped up when the other man hissed. He stared into the quiet one’s eyes, and said, “Or perhaps, Agent Todoh, I should be wondering why the FBI has taken interest in the death of my soon-to-be wife.”

Todoh said nothing. He simply stood without another word, leaving with a swift gait as the door slammed closed. The second man looked trapped suddenly, as if being left alone with Schneizel seemed to shift in significance when he was the only one left in the room.

“If we are done with this inappropriately invasive thread of interrogation, I’d like to leave.” Schneizel leaned back. “If we’re not, then I’d like my attorney.”

When Schneizel finally got his phone call, the first number he dialed was the Press. The society pages opened with Schneizel looking awkward, but the front page left him walking out of the J. Edgar Hoover building with an expression of deep, unquestionable sorrow.

They’d never know that it was only the scheming of a single brat-prince who kept them all from being sued within an inch of their lives.

It wasn’t the first time one of Schneizel’s schemes had gone awry but it was certainly the first time it hurt.

Schneizel didn’t speak to or look at Lelouch for nearly two weeks.

He knew himself well enough to know he had no idea what he might do with the memory of Lelouch’s eyes, clouded in pleasure, his hands gripping… How had Lelouch seduced the man? Schneizel could imagine Lelouch, his fingers running down a line of buttons flirtatiously, smiling and standing too close with promise in his voice.

Schneizel couldn’t blame the man for accepting an invitation, couldn’t blame him for being distracted by Lelouch’s slim body, couldn’t throw Lelouch’s age out with a chastising, disgusted glare.

But Schneizel wanted to.

In the end it was Lelouch who came to Schneizel, casually standing in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning as they stared at each other. The sight of him, the sharp turn of his cheekbones, the slightness of his body, tense in preparation of attack, settled all of Schneizel’s wonderings. Schneizel looked at Lelouch, awkward, waiting, and what he felt was pride.

Pride and fury.

Lelouch looked at him with an expression of placid calm and tilted his head to rest on the doorframe.

“If you’re not careful your face will stick like that,” Lelouch murmured, his eyes liquid, soft, “and everyone will know you’re a spoiled brat.”

After a moment of silent staring, Schneizel’s mind caught in the irony and fond amusement, Lelouch asked, “Are we good?”

Schneizel gestured him forward and Lelouch came. He was pale and wary, but he came. Standing, Lelouch was a little taller than Schneizel while he was still sitting at his desk. Schneizel reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. Lelouch’s hand twitched but didn’t move to wherever he had hidden his own weapon and he sighed heavily when Schneizel put the gun away in a nearby drawer instead of shoving it under his chin and firing.

Instead Schneizel grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

One of Lelouch’s hands, the strongest, automatically went to Schneizel’s wrist, and Schneizel smacked away the other, slipping his hand into his waistband and pulling out the automatic there. Schneizel shoved the barrel directly against Lelouch’s knee and said, “Be still.”

Lelouch settled, his eyes glassy and his face beginning to redden. It was only when he had completely stopped moving that Schneizel relaxed his grip and let his brother gasp for air.

“You cost the family millions of dollars with your little stunt.” Schneizel shifted his hand to grip Lelouch by the jaw so that he could make proper eye contact. “It doesn’t matter if we’re fine. What matters is that I strung that agent along for the last nine months, curtailing many of my activities in the process which has resulted in a loss. This means I don’t have the money to get into business with the West coast. The contract will instead go to Xing-ke, who has family ties, which will certainly result in a drug war sooner rather than later.”

Lelouch’s mouth had opened slightly and his eyes were wide when Schneizel finally allowed him to withdraw.

“We’re fine,” Schneizel said, tossing the second pistol in with the first. “But when the bodies start dropping I’m sending the widows to you, Lelouch.”

For the first time in their long history together Lelouch dropped to his knee in a bow that wasn’t demanded by manners or protocol. Lelouch stayed there silently until Schneizel leaned forward and tentatively rested his fingers on his neck, pulling forward to slide them along the slope of his jaw. The feel of soft skin over bone was entrancing and Schneizel only had to think for a moment, trying to decide what to do with Lelouch now that he had him, submissive and fragile.

Schneizel leaned forward while tilting Lelouch’s head up and remembered the sight, the most enviable moment of the whole affair, as he pressed his lips close to Lelouch’s ear and whispered, “I’ll take care of it.”

“I want to help. I need to help fix this.” Lelouch, his voice weak, murmured, “If I had known what you were actually doing-”

“Alright.” Schneizel nodded and brushed a length of hair from Lelouch’s face. Lelouch’s eyes were still diverted to the ground as Schneizel tilted his head up. “I’ll let you find a way to help. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Thank you, brother.” Lelouch didn’t sigh, but went tense as he stood fluidly. “I’ll come to you when I have an alternate source of revenue.”

Then Lelouch left the room, head high as he slammed the door behind himself, leaving Schneizel to wonder what he had thought Schneizel was doing in the first place, and who had informed him of the plot. It seemed that Lelouch had become involved with something else while he wasn’t looking, had been drawn in by someone’s quick tongue.

Schneizel had to wonder which issue Lelouch would address first: recompense or revenge?

He went back to work then, staring at his computer screen and touching his lips.

The chance had been worth millions.

In one night three knights killed themselves, two were executed, and a Rounds member was rushed to the hospital.

Schneizel checked up on the knight of three and pretended that he didn’t see Lelouch waiting in the hallway, a bloody rag pressed to his own shoulder and an impressive bruise blossoming up on his cheek.

“Sure, go ahead,” Lelouch snapped, scowling at a young man with a clipboard. “Report the gunshot wound to the police and this minor will be out on the streets dripping blood all over your parking lot before the phone stops ringing. Sew me up or fuck off.”

The man frowned and looked down at his clipboard.

“Then I’ll have to call our children’s advocate. Her name is Caitlin and she’s very underst- Okay, fine. Just take a seat and I’ll finish up. I have to ask though, do you have insurance?”

Schneizel missed the curses as he turned down the hall but he could certainly feel their buzz as the rowdy reception room went silent in awe.

Lelouch’s public persona was not wildly different from his everyday act but it was many degrees less extreme than the young man Schneizel interacted with on a regular basis. The reports he received annually informed Schneizel that while Lelouch kept to himself, he had a group of friends, an upbeat outlook on life in general, and was unerringly polite in every sense of the word. Physical education seemed to be the only subject in which he was lapsing but all in all he managed to pull a solid 3.5 for the quarter.

That was usually the part where Schneizel started grinning.

Despite all this Lelouch’s personal councilor was beginning to be concerned. When asked, Lelouch had no plans for his life out of high school. He wasn’t even bothering to browse colleges, and instead concentrated on his extracurricular activities. Chess seemed to be the ultimate focus of his life and despite this he had outright refused to represent his school during the annual competitions. The woman wanted to meet with Lelouch’s parents.

Schneizel had Cornelia send a pair of knights, but wasn’t particularly worried about the outcome of the meeting. Lelouch had proven that he was capable of taking care of his own messes.

That was why Schneizel became a little alarmed when informed that the police had called his office line to inform the nearest adult that Lelouch Lamperouge was at the local department in the process of being arrested. They weren’t supposed to be seen together in any capacity, weren’t even supposed to mention each other in public, and Lelouch was calling him for help? For a moment Schneizel considered ignoring the call, but the curiosity was just too intense to ignore.

He’d just have to figure out a way to punish Lelouch for insubordination later.

The police had left Lelouch alone on a bench near one of the interrogation rooms. He sat with his head bowed and his forearms braced on his knees, the chain from a pair of handcuffs dangling in a small arc. Across from Lelouch there was a young man in a padded chair holding a bag of ice to his crotch. He was not cuffed and had three adults standing at his back. Schneizel could read the spite in his eyes, the dark triumph as he stared at Lelouch from only a few feet away. Both of the boys were in identical uniforms but Lelouch was the only one with his tie still on, cinched tight, and his shirt carefully tucked into his pants as he stared down at his shoes.

The lawyer and the father were chatting with the officer, laughing uproariously before glancing at Lelouch out of the corner of their eyes. The woman was openly staring, one hand resting on the back of her son’s seat as she watched with something that looked like uninterested calm but wasn’t. Schneizel knew that face after spending a series of weeks sitting in front of it, watching her watch him with careful deliberation. Schneizel had to wonder what she was seeing in Lelouch at that moment, if what she saw was quiet resolve or silent despair.

“Judge Renault,” Schneizel stepped fully into the room, pulling off his sunglasses with a smile. “What a coincidence.”

Lelouch’s hands tightened into fists but he did not move. The judge turned to him and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow as she said, “Seeing you in a police station, Mr. Britannia, is not quite the shock it should be.”

Schneizel smiled and set his gaze on the boy and the man who had gone slightly pale as the laughter and general bustle of the bullpen turned into a murmur.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Schneizel slipped his glasses into his jacket. “I don’t believe I’ve met your family.”

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t, Mr. Britannia,” she said, stern but quiet, “And I’ll ask you kindly to go on your way. Cornelia has already been released.”

Schneizel stopped smiling.

“Cornelia,” Schneizel managed a smooth tone to cover his anger, “neglected to inform me that she’d been arrested. I’m not here for her.”

“Oh.” The judge frowned. “Then why-”

Her eyes sliding to the side was the only thing to give Schneizel any warning to turn around as Lelouch took three great strides forward, held his hands up and shoved Schneizel hard in the chest. Schneizel ended up pressed into the edge of a nearby desk, knocking over a cup of pens and assorted picture frames as the man behind him protested “Hey!” and the rest of the room held their breath in a gasp.

“You shut up,” Lelouch snarled at the man, his eyes wild and unrestrained. Schneizel had to suck in a breath at the sight of him like that, at learning, suddenly, how much Lelouch had been holding himself back.

“And you!” Lelouch lifted his hands up to point. “You’re going to stand there and you’re going to fucking listen to what I have to say. You’re not going to comment, smirk, or develop a sense of humor, Schneizel. You’re going to listen.”

Schneizel was struck, breathless, and Lelouch took that as a response in favor of his demands, even when they both knew it wasn’t. Lelouch nodded sharply and took a few steps backwards to point at the young man sitting in the chair, his eyes still hot with anger.

“This,” Lelouch introduced, “is the god of cock.”

The Judge’s mouth dropped open and the protestations on assorted tongues died a sudden death. It was amazing to Schneizel, for only a moment, that an entire room of A-type personalities could be silenced by a slim high school student.

“He introduced himself to me at the end of gym as such,” Lelouch continued, in a mockery of politeness. “He sought me out personally because apparently we have a special connection. This wonder of civilization, his highness cock, could clearly see that I was gagging for it and felt he should satisfy my insatiable need. Obviously he knew what signs to look for,” Lelouch pointed to himself with his thumbs, “considering the way I dress and the fact that I unashamedly display my bare face around school for everyone to see.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” the boy began to hiss. “I never said-”

“Unfortunately for him,” Lelouch turned his attention to his classmate, “I’m an atheist.”

Someone in the bullpen sniggered and many hands came up to their mouths as Lelouch turned his hard stare at the crowd.

“I told you he’s trying to blackmail me.” The boy looked to his mother, to Schneizel, to the nearby police officer and received blank stares in return. Everyone was riveted on Lelouch. His protestations were like the buzz of a fly in the middle of a windstorm.

“Unfortunately the god of cock forgot that we live in America and attempted to force me to worship. I would think that fighting for my rights as a citizen would be lauded but this young god,” Lelouch gestured, “has parents of good standing who actually show up when he calls. Congratulations on your status in society.” Lelouch gave a mock bow. “I’m sure your general state of idiocy will continue without comment, but that’s beside the fucking point.”

Lelouch returned his attention to Schneizel and the boy sighed a little, flushed brightly and went silent when his mother dug her fingers into his shoulder.

“Following this exalted example, I too deigned to inform my guardians of this unfortunate incident, only to find that they have died, and no one bothered to tell me.” Lelouch’s expression started to bleed into hurt. “So, I called my secondary emergency number and guess what?”

Schneizel, under the weight of so many stares finally murmured, “What.”

“One of the evidence bags starts ringing,” Lelouch hissed, “and I was informed that Cornelia Britannia has filed my cell phone number under the words ‘certified jail bait’. So, obviously,” Lelouch took a few steps back to stare the gobsmacked officer in the face, “It must be true that I’m in the process of blackmailing the great white hope. I must be a plant attempting to seduce this exalted being into a homosexual cinch for the entire world to see. It all makes perfect sense!”

Schneizel loosened his grip on the desk so very carefully as Lelouch took steps forward to get close and hiss in a half-whisper that wasn’t quiet enough in a silent room.

“I know the protocol and I know that you don’t want to be here,” Lelouch’s voice thickened slightly, “but I swear to god, Schneizel, I will kill you and myself before I call up my father to tell him I’m being arrested for attempted extortion and solicitation.”

Schneizel leaned the barest bit closer and Lelouch refused to give up ground, planted firmly with rage and hurt bare on his painfully expressive face.

“It’s too much,” Lelouch wound down. “And it’s time that I get something out of being related to you other than the need for intensive therapy. You’re going to fix this, Schneizel, and you’re going to do it now, and you are not going to be a bastard about it later because you promised-”

When Schneizel turned away Lelouch went silent, and when Schneizel turned back Lelouch’s head had dipped, one hand up covering his face as he began to deflate in disappointment and grief. Carefully, quietly, Schneizel took his hand and brushed a kiss over his whitened knuckles in acknowledgement, pressing a tissue into his grip.

It felt wrong to perform such a private act in front of a crowd, but Schneizel knew Lelouch well enough to understand what a precarious slope they were standing upon. Schneizel brushed a length of hair away and put an arm around his shoulders, his heart trembling wildly as Lelouch grabbed the front of his shirt in a vicious, desperate twist. Some enterprising officer commanded the crowd to disperse and the Judge leaned over to begin quietly whispering into her son’s ear, pushing her husband and lawyer away with two hard shoves. The young man began protesting again, gesturing to them both with a loud, “- criminals-” and the woman slapped him hard against the face.

For a moment Schneizel felt himself amazed, cocooned by emotion that had grown from its carefully cultivated seed into something strange. He had planted discretion, control, and temperance to settle the difference between the need that buzzed in the back of his mind, intolerably unforgettable and insistent: obsession.

Yet there he was, a weakness bared so that he could hold Lelouch as he pushed himself close, his face buried in Schneizel’s chest, his hands still clinging. “There were three of them, Schneizel, and I couldn’t do anything and you promised-”

“To keep you safe.” Schneizel frowned, remembering how he had looked three years before, so young and desperate to be himself. “Yes, I did, and you’ve held up your end of the bargain. Nothing like this will-” Schneizel’s mind paused his mouth with a decisive slice, reminding him of his other promise, the one that was, arguably, the most important of the two.

Lelouch looked up in a snap, his eyes wide in fear as he felt Schneizel’s body tense in realization that the statement could be a lie. It was too ambiguous because Schneizel… Schneizel wanted-

And then, as they say, the cat was out of the bag. Lelouch tried to jerk out of his arms but Schneizel intensified his hold and quickly pulled Lelouch into an empty interrogation room, turning the light off as he pulled Lelouch into a corner and manipulated his hands over his neck. The dig of the metal rings was harsh but Lelouch wasn’t tall enough to slip the cuffs over Schneizel’s head. He was forced to stay close. Lelouch was being forced into something he didn’t want to do and Schneizel had made a promise he was unable to break. That honesty was what kept Lelouch leashed to him and Schneizel… Schneizel didn’t want to have to hurt Lelouch, but he would.

Lelouch made a high, frightened noise that only escalated into panic when Schneizel picked him up by the thighs and pushed him on top of the unforgiving metal table, an appropriate location for yet another confession.

Schneizel held Lelouch in his palms, firmly but as carefully as he could as his hands learned the contours of his face so that Schneizel could unerringly find Lelouch’s lips and kiss him in a way he never once imagined in his mind; gently, carefully, as a similar sound welled from the pain in his chest and into Lelouch’s gasping mouth.

Lelouch didn’t know what to do. Even when Schneizel pressed forward with one, two, three careful presses he stayed frozen, not fighting or pulling hard at Schneizel’s neck and Schneizel knew there was no use in moving forward. Instead he ducked under Lelouch’s arms and bit down a sigh as he left the room, shutting the door to give Lelouch time to compose himself and think. When Lelouch finally emerged it was to walk over to the original officer, subtly staying as far away from Schneizel as he could. He flinched when the Judge looked him in the eyes and said, “I’d like you to file a complaint against my son.”

Lelouch looked over to where the young man was sitting, cuffed and deprived of ice. The look in his eyes was still a little glassy as he said, “Of course,” in a dull monotone. Schneizel took a moment to wonder if he had gone into shock as he signed the release forms and arranged the interview at a later date. Lelouch turned suddenly, tugging Schneizel’s sleeve like an impatient child.

“I’m going,” he said simply, pale. Schneizel nodded.

“Take my car.” Schneizel handed over the keys into Lelouch’s offered palm. “I’ll follow later.”

They all watched as Lelouch went through the door, looking stronger with every stride, clearly coming back to himself as he presented his middle finger to the father and the lawyer glaring from the side. When Schneizel turned back, it was to meet Judge Renault’s steady stare.

“He is not someone to be crossed,” she said. “He’s too much like you.”

There was no response that would have pleased Schneizel more, and it made his mind fall into a deep hum. There was something lingering there in the darkness that made Schneizel move, function, and it was in a place too deep to see.

The judge, Schneizel knew, was in her own way asking, ‘What will it take?’ Revenge was already on the tip of Schneizel’s tongue and it would be easier to achieve than leniency. But, if Schneizel took that route his punishment would certainly not stop at the boy, and the judge had more children than just that one.

“Cut him off,” Schneizel murmured. “Let him know what it means to be powerless. Leave him in a place where no one knows his name.”

After a moment the Judge nodded her acquiescence, and Schneizel learned what she looked like with true emotion in her eyes.

He liked the other way better.

Lelouch wasn’t on Britannian territory when Schneizel finally arrived at home, but he hadn’t gone far. The GPS on Schneizel’s car put Lelouch a few miles away in a place he had been before a long, long time ago. Schneizel didn’t follow. Instead he went to his front room with a mug of tea and stared at the black television screen lit only by a small lamp in the corner of the room. He settled into the leather and let himself drift into a nothing place, a trance-like state in which his mind and everything else melted away.

Schneizel was in a place free from life’s little subtleties when Lelouch knocked on the door. He walked inside after Schneizel neglected calling out to him.

Lelouch had dirt on his fingers, red eyes, and grass stains on his knees, but the most prominent piece of Lelouch was the tremble of his outstretched arm. The gun in his hand was not one that belonged to him, but one that Schneizel had seen held many times by the knight at his father’s side. Silver and pearl and perfect for a boy who was made of iron and shone more brightly because of that hidden strength. I made him, Schneizel thought while meeting Lelouch’s eyes, but not this part. She made this.

Schneizel knew then that Lelouch was there to kill him.

Lelouch swallowed once, steadied that resolve and pulled the trigger.

One shot, two shots, three shots, four-

When he was fourteen Schneizel killed his mother. It wasn’t easy like the cat.

Schneizel’s mother was much older and tall, sturdy like his father but still beautiful with wide blue eyes and long, rippling blond hair. He watched her sometimes in the morning when she brushed that hair in long strokes with her favorite silver comb. Charles likes long hair, she had told him once, and it had impressed Schneizel because no one said his father’s name like that: Charles. So he watched her and he memorized those strokes because he didn’t understand how the length of her hair gave her the permission to speak the Emperor’s name when even Schneizel, the most fearless of all the many children, wouldn’t dare.

He tried once with a pillow stuffed over his mouth but even then, alone in the dark, he couldn’t say it. His heart felt hollow and the fear made his mind bright. Schneizel marveled at his mother’s power every morning, sitting on the foot of her bed even after his sisters told him it wasn’t right for a boy to watch his mother like that. They didn’t understand his fascination with such a simple everyday act.

That’s how their abductors kept her from moving, their stained gloves marring the golden shine of her hair with something that looked like and probably was blood. And Schneizel could only watch helplessly as they used that power against her.

For the first time his mother ordered him to do something, to close his eyes and Schneizel did, clasping his hands over his ears. She said something, she said, “Charles, please!” but no one came and she screamed for a long time before Schneizel was kicked in the ribs and dragged back up to his feet. His scalp protested at the grip, the clench of rough hands, and for the first time in his life Schneizel understood what it meant to be hated and what it meant to hate.

Hate meant that your body and your mind were no longer your own. The rip of his scalp meant nothing, the blood soaking into his collar and eyes meant nothing, there was only a wild rage that clouded his mind and turned him into something less than animal. Not even instinct could slip through the red haze as he fought with tooth and nail and every ounce of strength he had been hoarding in hope of escape.

In the end the only person Schneizel had hurt was himself and afterwards he was afraid. He had no fight left and his mother was kneeling, tears streaming down her face as she was kept very still.

She was still beautiful even then. They hadn’t touched her face with anything but the tip of a gun, but her expression twisted into a horrible grimace when someone said, “We only need one.”

Schneizel was pulled up again, and though he managed to stay on his feet, he had to bite off a scream of hurt and horror at the sight of his left arm bent strangely and dripping with blood.

“He’s smaller and he’s injured. He’ll be easy to lug around,” the one standing with his mother said. “And she’s only a wife.”

“Heir and a spare,” the other said, a blade pressed up under Schneizel’s throat kept him from speaking. “There’ll be more boys.”

“It comes down to who he’ll miss most,” another said, leaning up against the basement wall, his face red with scratches.

“Might as well flip a coin,” another shrugged lazily and pointed a pistol in Schneizel’s direction.

What Schneizel realized at that moment, his fate held by strangers, was that his father wouldn’t miss either of them. He looked into his mother’s eyes and understood that she couldn’t acknowledge that truth, that she was still waiting for the young man who had grown into something else, something she didn’t understand and still called Charles. If they were lucky that man might have sent knights, if they weren’t-

“I think we can do a little better than that.” The man to his right gestured to Schneizel and said, “Give him the knife. Let’s play a game.”

When the knights finally arrived, there to save the day, it was too late. They dropped every other body, but Schneizel was still on the ground with his mother holding her warm, bloody body with a knife in one hand and that slick, beautiful blonde hair in the other. He sobbed and he hated: hated her, hated himself, hated his father. He stayed there feeling her go cold, purging himself of his curses, his tears, his screams, and every compromising emotion that had made him weak enough to lose control. Schneizel bled it all out as the stench of death began to overwhelm the delicate perfume of his mother’s hair.

And after that Schneizel pulled himself together, walked calmly up into the light, and never cared enough to cry again. He made no decision, no vow, there was just simply nothing left.

Nothing left but the blade.

The world tilted wildly as Schneizel lost his breath, a dull pain hitting and spreading from his upper torso. He tried to move, to stand, to do anything, but fell back hard when another round was fired and then another. Pain overwhelmed him as his body tried and failed to inhale, and brought him down low and helpless.

The last thing Schneizel registered was Lelouch walking out of the room with a quick stride and then…nothing else. Schneizel drifted into that white place, closed his eyes, and the world was no more.

His break didn’t last very long.

Smelling salts brought Schneizel back into consciousness along with a completely unnecessary slap to the face as Lelouch ripped his shirt open and viciously yanked the heavy vest off of his chest. He was scowling, furious, and snarled, “You fuck,” before absently giving Schneizel another blow, one more heavy-handed than the first, leaving Schneizel with a stinging cheek, red hot flesh, and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

“You fucking fuck.” Lelouch’s voice was harsh and desperate, but not so despairing as the look in his eyes, narrowed in grief. He took two handfuls of Schneizel’s hair, pulling hard enough to come away with more than a few strands, leaned forward and shoved their open mouths together in a furious, brutal, painful, perfect kiss that Schneizel could only sit and take, slipping his tongue against Lelouch’s and listening to the way anger turned into voiceless demands, the choke of aborted curses that was something vastly different than moans.

Lelouch’s furious screams could be heard in his vicious grip, the bite of nails into the sensitive skin of Schneizel’s neck, the way he bit down on Schneizel’s tongue and pushed his palms hard into the forming bruises on Schneizel’s chest. But at the same time… Schneizel was gasping, desire twisting up his spine and turning into sound as Lelouch began to move. With every angle, every deep foray, every bitten lip, Lelouch moved fluidly into the touch of body against body, into Schneizel’s hands when he slipped them under Lelouch’s t-shirt.

The feel of Lelouch’s cock hard against his abdomen was enough to make Schneizel lift his arms and dig his fingers into Lelouch’s upper thighs, alternately supporting his weight and positioning him so that Schneizel had to arch his neck painfully to keep their mouths together. Lelouch only became more vicious with a renewed degree of control but his hands shifted to grip Schneizel’s shoulders, one coming up to cup the back of Schneizel’s head, threading his fingers through his hair with terrifying care while he bit down hard on Schneizel’s jaw.

Schneizel was not ashamed to admit he was utterly overwhelmed. Lelouch was dominating him ruthlessly and there was nothing Schneizel could do to stop it; he was in too much pain to fight him off and was too engrossed by adrenaline and lust to even attempt the act of pulling away.

The loss of control was more unsettling than Schneizel thought it would be, and Lelouch… Lelouch reached down, pushing Schneizel back into the couch to bite at the soft skin of Schneizel’s throat, still cursing in growls and hard bites as he destroyed the zipper of Schneizel’s pants.

And then, with Lelouch’s bare hand wrapped around him Schneizel lost himself completely; mind and body. He lost everything.

Checkmate.