Title: Twisted Fairytale

Genre: Romance / Drama

Rating: M

Parings: Suzaku X Lelouch

Summary: Because love moves in mysterious ways, flirtatious playboy, Suzaku Kururugi, found himself captivated not by a woman, but by the pretty man who turns his perfect life upside down. AU

Author's Note: Cases, legal jargon and name references used are ABSOLUTELY not mine. Thank google(.)com for that. (See endnotes for details).

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass. All rights reserved to CLAMP.

At fourteen, Suzaku Kururugi experienced sex for the first time.

It was nothing remarkable, really. They met at a party through common friends. The introductions were awkward. He was a naive boy, a baptized Christian, who thought that kissing was only for people blessed in front of the altar. But then, innocence aside, he was young. At his teens. An age where hormones ruled and explorations abound.

And Suzaku, despite his pure beliefs and strict upbringing, did just that.

They were intoxicated, definitely not used to drinking. Both were sitting so close to each other, her exposed thighs making wonders to his alcohol-induced mind. They were talking about pets. Then about baking. Then about cakes, movies, toys, candies and then clothes...and how they would look without them on. Playful slaps turned to groping. Groping resulted to kissing. And the next thing they knew, they were exploring a forbidden territory with the enthusiasm of child having his first candy.

Suzaku woke up alone in the morning, with the smell of fluids less innocent than sweat.

But he remembered nothing.

Not the gentleness of a caress.

Not the sweet touch of a kiss.

Not the feeling of being inside a hot cavern meant to bring bliss.

Then finally realizing the truth, of him ruining the sanctity of consummation reserved for only matrimony, Suzaku cried.

Because of guilt.

Because of fear.

Because of losing something that will never be returned.

Something that, at one night, was suddenly left behind.

Because with all things considered, Suzaku Kururugi was only fourteen.





All and nothing, but an innocent little child.

Both inside and outside.

*****Chapter 1: The Lawyer*****


Ashford, Hawthorne & Associates

December 18, 2017; Monday, 10:30 am

His life was like clockwork.

So perfectly in routine.

Morning: assessing details of his next case during breakfast, giving orders to his secretary, and then doing paperwork in the office. Afternoon: meeting with the clients, attending trials, briefing lawyers—(Did he eat lunch yet? Couldn't remember.) Evening: more paperwork, keeping tabs on his father, answering questions, checking emails, dinner....? What dinner?

With a call from C.C. that woke him up at five o'clock in the morning—

("I have something to tell you. It's urgent!"

"Witch, do you know what time it is?!"

"It's five o'clock, silly. Don't you have a watch?"

"Exactly! It's five o'clock! In the morning, damn it!"

"Duh. I know that, dummy. Oh well, anyway, hear this out. Pizza Hut has opened a new branch at—"

That did it.

"C.C., I'm hanging up. Goodbye.")

—Lelouch vi Britannia was in a brilliantly dark mood when he arrived at the office on a beautiful Monday morning. (He couldn't go back to sleep in fear of medieval witches hunting his dreams.) Now, halfway through his second briefing, his temper only got worse at his head's terrible pounding.

That and his cranky observation of—("Isn't the room a little colder than usual today?")

Needless to say, if looks could kill, he would be a murderer by now.

...the attendees of the meeting suddenly felt a chill.

"Defendant: Frederick Meisner, 22 years old. Place of residence: Alexander Street, Pendragon. He graduated from college in 2002, single and is currently unemployed," Lelouch read out loud for everyone to hear. Amethyst eyes scanned the rest of the report, noting details of birth, education, work experience and hobbies, and then coming to a stop at the small photograph attached to the thick file.

'He looks frightened' he commented mentally, gaze settling down on the man's clouded brown eyes.

Lelouch continued. "The defendant is charged with the murder of his sister, Elizabeth Thatcher. Frederick and Elizabeth became siblings when their parents remarried in 1998." He paused, looking at the gentlemen present in the room. "And as I'm aware, the District Attorney's Office has already obtained strong evidences, including the murderer's motive."

"So what is the motive?" Guildroy Ashford, the head for litigation practice of Ashford, Hawthorne & Associates, asked, levelling him with an inquiring stare.

Lelouch answered, "It appears to be a relationship problem."

Guildroy heaved a sigh, looking down at his own set of papers. "This case has become rather sticky."

"Does the client have any requests?" someone from Lelouch's left side inquired.

"Well, the client has requested as much as possible, not to let the glass cup get involved."

Apparently, the glaring evidence happened to be just that one.

Guildroy nodded, then addressed everyone present in the room, "Gentlemen, you may need to put in some extra effort on this one. Everything, I repeat, everything must be done as the client wants this time."

The chorus of agreement confirmed his request.

"And even if that isn't the case, to prevent any unnecessary misunderstanding, I will instruct all related sections to be activated, and ensure full preparation for this coming trial," Lelouch added with finality in his eyes.

"Alright," Guildroy replied. "Nevertheless, gentlemen, the messy relationship of these young people had better not implicate our client too much."

At the murmur of positive replies, Guildroy continued, holding another file, "Next will be P & Co International's merger case..."

Ashford, Hawthorne and Associates was a Britannian law firm with its principal office at Saint Darwin Street in Pendragon. It was one of Britannia's "Magic Circle" of leading law firms and was one of the largest law firms in the world, both by number of lawyers and revenue, up to 2015. (1)

In 2014, it registered a 'record' revenue of $3.405 billion, with partners sharing a profit of $ 720 million. In the same year, Ashford, Hawthorne and Associates topped three tables for worldwide Mergers & Acquisitions, advising on 444 deals globally which were valued at a total of $490 billion, and was thus named "Law Firm of the Year" at The Lawyer Awards held in Pendragon on December 27, 2014. (2)

With its presiding heads, Guildroy Ashford and Alfred Hawthorne, Ashford, Hawthorne & Associates had remained as Britannia's most prestigious law firm for the past thirty years, and was voted as the 'Employer of Choice' at the recently concluded poll in February 2017 among more than 3,000 law students at Rosenthal Group Universities and Graduate Diploma in Law.

But of course.

That, and all other things mentioned, was definitely not the reason why one Lelouch vi Britannia was there, attending meetings, getting stressed and working in the first place.

It's a long story.

"So who is the judge presiding over Frederick Meisner's case?" Guildroy asked Lelouch when it was finally just the two of them within the confines of his office.

Guildroy Ashford, or Guild, as what he preferred to be called, was a man in his middle sixties with undeniably good looks that failed to be marred away by old age. A gentleman with a kind heart, Lelouch not just twice found himself wondering as to how such man had survived the cruel and deceitful world of law and politics till now. Albeit admittedly, not just twice was he proven wrong, when Lelouch witnessed a court trial that exposed Guildroy's silver tongue, influential voice and powerful wit. Nevertheless, Guildroy was definitely someone most people wouldn't want to be against with.

Clearing his throat, Lelouch replied, "I heard that it will be Justice Alicia Lohmeyer." (3)

Guildroy shook his head good naturedly. "That person is rather meticulous," he commented, stifling a laugh at the reminder of the boorish old woman.

Lelouch regarded him with interest.

'He's just like his daughter,' he thought, picturing the cheerful blond woman that was his saving grace all this time.

Face finally turning serious, Guildroy turned to the other man. "How about the meeting with prosecutor Bismarck Waldstein?"

"We agreed to meet tomorrow afternoon, after lunch."

"Good. Well then, how—"

The knock on the office door put their conversation to a halt. Both men looked at the source of interruption.

"Come in," Guildroy called out.

The door opened to reveal Guildroy's secretary.

"Excuse me sir," she said, walking cautiously towards the young lawyer who looked like he would attack something at any minute, which he did. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Lelouch, but you have a very persistent visitor demanding to see you."

Lelouch glared at her, not the slightest bit pleased at being disrupted. "Well, tell whoever it is to make an appointment and get lost." the silent 'or else' lingering in the air caused her to gulp visibly.

"I'm sorry, sir, I tried. But apparently, the lady in question is a lawyer and has threatened to take legal action if you did not comply (4). And she said that (I quote) 'Lelouch will definitely regret it'."

Lelouch paused, then looked at Guildroy in confusion. Heaving a sigh, he replied, "Very well. I will go and meet this person." Amethyst eyes narrowed. "Perhaps she could use a bit of lawsuit herself for interrupting an important meeting."

He then turned to the other man, "I'm sorry, Guildroy. It seems like someone needs a piece of my mind."

Guildroy waved a hand, apparently done with him anyway. "It's alright," then he added with a wink, "Go now. It's rude to keep a lady waiting."

With a glare and an indignant huff, Lelouch was finally gone.

The secretary heaved a relieved sigh.

"Well?" Guildroy, leaning on his desk, with knuckles supporting his chin, implored at the woman still standing by his office door. "Who's the visitor?"

At those words, she cringed at the absurdity of it all. "It was your daughter, sir."

Blue eyes twinkled in amusement.

'Oh, that explains it,' Guildroy thought with good humour.

Of course.

Of all people, it just had to be Milly.

Guildroy paused for a moment of foreboding.

'God bless his soul.'

Upon opening his office door, the sight that greeted Lelouch made him eternally regretful that murder was such a heavy crime.

His so-called visitor was absolutely born with no shame, seeing that she was sitting on his (emphasis on 'his') chair while reading an awfully girlish looking magazine without care in the world (like towards him, the owner of said chair) per se.

It was Milly Ashford.

"Milly!" he hissed, voice laced with venom.

At the sound of her name, Milly looked up from her magazine and then brightened at the sight of him. "Well, well, well. Look who's finally here," she gushed, blue eyes gleaming. "So, how are you, my little muse?" Milly asked as if nothing else was wrong in the world.

Like her being there.

In his office.

And on his chair.

His eyebrow twitched.

"I can't believe you told her that you're a lawyer (and she honestly believed it!)," Lelouch retorted while massaging his temples.

Milly grinned, bounced to where Lelouch was standing and wagged a finger at him. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. My innocent little muse. So naive!" she laughed, thwacking his nose. "A little lie wouldn't hurt now, would it? Besides, you always had your share of lying, so why can't I join in?"

Lelouch glared at her while rubbing his abused nose, about to retort that 'most lawyers (like him) did not lie knowingly', when he realized that this was Milly. Whatever explanation he had in mind would be a lost cause to this lady.

Instead he asked bluntly, "So, what brings you here?"

She shrugged, then settled for sitting on one of the more comfortable chairs ("Thank god.") inside his office. "C.C. called me this morning and insisted along the lines of 'Lelouch's such an ass, someone kill him!'. I rather got the impression that someone is needed to be here to make sure you're not yet dead."

Lelouch snorted. "Glad to know so many people are concerned for my well being."

Milly clucked her tongue at him. "But of course! You're my darling little stray, after all."

Lelouch grunted.

"And besides, I'm running out of ideas! It's terrible, I tell you. My characters are not behaving the way I want them to. Lelouch keeps on avoiding Tristan's advances like the coy—"

"Milly!" Lelouch cut in with the very intention of stopping further humiliation to his name by her uncouth mouth.

"—little French man he is! But that will not do, my muse," she insisted. "My readers need the sex! The sex, I tell you. You know, with Lelouch writhing beneath Tristan with his gasps of—"

"MILLY!" Lelouch shouted, absolutely horrified at the mental images about to scar him forever.

But, alas, ignorance 'is' a bliss.

Lelouch vaguely heard his soul saying goodbyes to his lifeless body.

It's definite.

If overworking wouldn't kill him, this one probably would.

But who was he to stop her?

Lelouch was not some evil tyrant who would dare separate Milly from the fantasies that made her happy.

He cringed.

It's just too painful to know that it was him that fulfilled said sick fantasies.

Being a writer was something Lelouch never expected for one Milly Ashford to become. Coming from a long line of lawyers and politicians, he had always thought that the blond would end up as either of the two, or if not, a media reporter, considering her chirpy nature. Sure, she studied Political Science in college and graduated with flying colors, but she abandoned all of that just to pursue something she really loved ever since a child.


Guildroy was never a problem, of course. That man would absolutely do everything to make his only daughter happy. And he was forever a proud daddy.

(Lelouch could just picture both father and daughter reading one of Milly's BL novels with much fervor and passion.

He shuddered.)

"—and he shouted for more, mo—" Milly halted to frown at him, eyes slanted suspiciously. "Lelouch, are you listening to me?"

Lelouch nodded. "Absolutely." 'Not," he added mentally.

Then, finally realizing (at last) the true nature of her visit, Milly softened her eyes and commented offhandedly, "You look tired."

"Do I now?" Lelouch inquired mildly, raising an eyebrow.

Of course, the sarcasm wasn't missed.

Milly stood up from her seat and walked towards him to take a closer look at his visage. She noted (with disapproval) the more pallid color of his cheeks, the bags under his eyes and the exhausted ghost of his smile. Cradling his head in her arms (he actually let her), she murmured, "As a matter of fact, you do." Then she frowned at him, eyes obviously scolding, "What time did you sleep last night?"

Lelouch shrugged. "When I slept."

Milly glared.

Then deciding that she wouldn't be getting a sane answer from him, Milly pulled a paper cup half-filled with water from his side table (when and how it got there, Lelouch didn't know) and dug a couple pills from her coat pocket, handing them to him. "Whatever you say, Lelouch. But I bet it's sometime between three and four," she admonished motioning for him to take the aspirin. When he didn't move, Milly slapped a hand at his back. "Well, what are you waiting for? Drink it up."

Once again, Lelouch raised an eyebrow at her, then reasoned that anybody within ten meters could probably tell he had a freaking migraine to the nth degree. He popped two of the pills into his mouth and washed it down with water.

'Sometimes,' Lelouch thought, amused, 'Milly can be such a mother hen.'

"Lelouch, you should really take care of your health. I won't be always here to take care of you, you know?" Then putting a hand to her forehead and using a more desperate voice, she exclaimed, "What would happen to my muse if you suddenly collapsed or worse, disappeared? That wouldn't do at all!" By now, Milly already left the surface of the earth. "Think about my readers, depraved of homoerotic love! Think about me! Think about my fans! Oh, Lelouch, the cruelty of it all just brings tears to my eyes!"

Lelouch took it all back.

Whatever good things he thought about Milly (particularly around five milliseconds ago) disappeared completely.

It's all gone.

Off to a far, far away place called oblivion.

"—you can take the rest of the afternoon off, right? Cancel the rest of your appointments. You need food."

Snapping back to reality, Lelouch glanced at his watch furtively. "No, thank you. I have another important meeting in about ten minutes."

Milly sighed, "Can you make it through the day with no energy? You're obviously sick and tired. It doesn't even look as if you've had a decent meal in ages. And you're planning to go through another day in your condition?"


She groaned. "Lelouch! What on earth is—"

Lelouch held up a hand, and then huffed, tone indignant. "Milly, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. Besides, I'm not sick. I've never been sick since I was twelve. Now, at twenty-seven, I believe I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Milly snorted. "Right. Tell that to the pounding veins on your forehead."

Lelouch crossed his arms in retaliation. "Hey!"

She grinned good-naturedly. Then, adapting a softer tone, she asked, "Is it because of her again?" At Lelouch's affirmative nod, she resigned, "Fine. I'll let you off the hook this time. But—"Milly looked at him directly in the eyes,—"if you collapsed of exhaustion one day, don't blame me for the things I would do, ok?"

Lelouch nodded, completely unaware of what he was subjecting himself into. "I'm fine, Milly. Fainting in public will be the last thing on earth that I will ever do."

At Milly's devious smirk, he suddenly had an ominous feeling seeping through.

"Of course, my little muse," she exclaimed cheerfully, wagging a finger at him. "Or else, I'm sure a fangirl's wrath won't be something you'd want to go through."

Lelouch visibly paled at those words.

It was like Milly saying, 'Mark my words, my little muse.'

It was absolutely not a simple threat.

It was a promise.

Or a curse.

That's for sure.


Ashford, Hawthorne & Associates

Same day, 3:00 pm

After the episode with Milly, Lelouch found himself falling easily again into his routine.




...and more work.

And the meeting that afternoon was just one testament to that.

The room was silent aside from the sound of shuffling papers.

Lelouch sat at one end of the long wooden table, chin resting atop his raised hands while eyeing the middle-aged woman talking in hushed whispers to the lawyers by her side.

Apparently, she was loaded enough to hire two.

'From our rival firm, no less,' he added coolly.

Lelouch had known those faces even before he started practicing law. They were almost all over the news and papers for handling several cases of famous celebrities and noted officials of the government. It was usually a smooth win for the both of them. Together or separate, the public saw them as eloquent speakers who only spoke nothing but the truth in the face of justice. And coincidently enough, the truth always sided with the wealthy breeds of society.

But Lelouch knew better.

'Andreas Darlton and Luciano Bradley,' he noted, highly amused. 'What an interesting pair.'

And interesting they were, undoubtedly.

Andreas Darlton was an extremely tall, well-built man with a diagonal scar running across his face. If it weren't for the suit and tie, that visage and those eyes could easily place him as a mafia boss, or if not, the Yamaguchi-gumi heir (5). It's evident that he held no interest on the concerns of the client, with the look he was giving the woman trying to explain her case. Whatever it was, Darlton deemed it unnecessary. For him, the whole thing was pretty much in the bag.

Especially after seeing his person.



And clearly with no client in sight.

Darlton could practically taste the win thriving inside.

Luciano Bradley, on the other hand, was a no different story. Bradley was a lanky, violent, orange-haired fellow. Widely known as the confrontational type, antagonizing others was like second nature to this extremely hot-headed man. He would attack without provocation, completely devoid of care to its repercussions. And as long as the results favoured him, any feasible methods, underhanded or not, would be done by his men in any means necessary.

Hero of justice, indeed.

Lelouch stared at the wall clock, bored.

Apparently, his client was running late, but he didn't seem the slightest bit unfazed. It was quite understandable, really. Mao had been through a lot lately. The loss of his job. The death of his wife. The sickness of his daughter. And now, the assets not being handed over by his lawful mother.

Lelouch felt a chill.

Not due to the graveness of the situation, but to the freezing air.

Lelouch glared at the offending contraption that broke his line of thinking. For him, its presence was absolutely unnecessary. ("The room was small and cool enough, thank you very much.")

But maybe, it's not the machine's fault.

'Perhaps,' his eyes narrowed, 'it was the pills wearing off.'

Not good.

Definitely not good.

Lelouch could already feel the headache coming.

The sound of frantic footsteps approaching signalled Mao's decision to finally attend that afternoon's meeting.

A hurried "Sorry, I'm late" graced the room's occupants, before Mao took the seat beside him.

Lelouch blinked.

The Chinese man definitely looked harassed, in more ways than possible.

"Well, then, since you're already here, let's try to settle the issue regarding your wife's assets under her estate," Darlton started, immediately aiming for the gun.

After some shuffling, Bradley hoisted up a piece of paper containing a name Mao knew very well. Bradley explained, "Although most of the assets are under your wife, Yvette Simmons, the ownership in fact belongs to Madam Melanie Simmons, her mother."

Mao stiffened visibly on his seat.

Pretending not to notice, Lelouch nodded gravely. "We're unable to assess the whole of Yvette's assets accurately. With that, we will never be able to distribute her assets properly," he paused to look at the room's sole female occupant."Although it might upset you, madam, but please let us have the accurate details of Yvette's estate as soon you can."

Melanie looked enraged at the insinuation of his words. She hissed, "Are you implying that my daughter has concealed some of her properties? Do you have proof? With no proof whatsoever, how dare you—"


Mao's outburst definitely failed to diffuse the situation.

"Who are you calling mother now, you bastard!"

Mao whimpered.

Lelouch held up a hand. "Please be careful with your words, madam. This is a conference room, not a marketplace. Please, if you dare utter another vulgar word to my client, I will have no choice but to take legal action against you for verbal assault."

At the furious glare fired at him, Lelouch already knew he just furthered the Britannian woman's ire.

But he would have none of that.

Instead, he addressed the other men. "Well, if you gentlemen must know, from Melanie's Real Estate, we have managed to release 5,000 square feet of property in Birmingham." Eyeing the other's reactions, Lelouch continued, "And we can very much do the same with the rest of her seemingly carefully hidden assets."

Bradley didn't seem the slightest bit pleased. "Why are you bringing this up now? The land in Birmingham has nothing to do with us."

Lelouch grinned, definitely onto something. "Why, Mr. Bradley? Do you think we're that easy?" He fixed the Britannian woman with a level stare. "You made false accounts and kept a big plot of land partitioned out from the estate, didn't you?" At the lack of response, he added with a smirk, "You do know that this amounts to coercion, don't you?"

"You're not being discreet here, are you," Darlton's deep voice echoed within the small confines of the room.

Lelouch sneered in reply. "A mother using her daughter's name to cover up actual ownership? If you must know, Mr. Darlton, this is against the rules of actual property rights and ownership."

"Coercion, fraud, infringement of ownership rules...," Darlton droned on, obviously not impressed, "all of these require evidence, young lad. Do you have any?" he implored with a critical stare. Darlton snorted. "Making conclusions based on assumptions, I think only rookies do such things," he exclaimed, glancing at his form meaningfully.

But Lelouch made no move to acknowledge the insult, instead he replied calmly, "Finding evidence will definitely be difficult, but—"he paused for emphasis, amethyst eyes dancing mirthfully—"the process will nevertheless be an interesting one. In the process, we will be checking on the company's floating assets. Who knows—"he said with a smirk—"we might find something of immense disadvantage to you. Even so, do you still want to give it a shot?

Bradley snapped, obviously livid, "I don't see why we should not."

'Got you.' Lelouch grinned inwardly.

"Oh, is that so? You still want to hang on until the end, huh? Maybe, if you back off in time, perhaps we'd consider letting you go. To prevent humiliation to the firm you represent, you know?"

"You dare threaten me? You little—"

"Bradley," Darlton intoned, preventing an episode that would further complicate their situation. A quick glance at his client only confirmed his suspicion.

Melanie Simmons was sweating bullets, clenched fists shaking horribly.

This was not good.

Darlton was torn.

Of course, the whole exchange was not missed by Lelouch's observant eyes. Riling up Bradley was a piece of cake, but baiting Darlton was a completely different matter, altogether.

'So what are you going to do, Darlton? To play or not to play? Hesitate once, and you're out of the game.'

Perhaps, Darlton finally realized that whatever decision he had, in here, in court or in front of the jury, the result would just be the same.

Then, at the uncertain look on the lawyer's eyes, Lelouch already knew the answer.

He smirked at the feeling of victory.

'I win.'

The episode that followed that meeting had been ugly.

Melanie was throwing curses at his Chinese client who could definitely use a break from all these folly. Mao was obviously tired and weary, and the ominous presence of his mother-in-law did nothing to alleviate his worries.

(His daughter was sick, for god's sake!)

Bradley and Darlton, on the other hand, were busy drilling holes at the back of his head.

Their silence was enough.

Apparently, voicing their thoughts would just be overkill.

Nevertheless, whatever happened outside the office was no longer Lelouch's responsibility.

His job was done.


Besides, the results of today's case was just another addition to his 'Mind Victory Collection.'

Cool name, huh.

'Ah, life is good.' he thought.

But then, suddenly, the completely unexpected (but somehow definitely expected) finally happened.

Lelouch was just walking halfway through the hallway when the spasms started.

Leaning on the wall for support, Lelouch clutched his head with both hands, amethyst eyes definitely showing tremendous amount of pain.


He vaguely heard a voice calling for his name and saw a blurry figure of a woman running towards him.

But he had no time to react.

Because the next thing Lelouch knew, he was already seeing nothing but black.


Calvin Clarkland Hospital

December 20, 2017; 9:00 am

Lelouch awoke at the smell of burning incense and candles.

'Where am I?'

The expanse of the room, the sheets of the bed he's occupying and the present state of his being answered his question.

'A hospital.' He noted with understanding. After all, no other place could be so disgustingly white and smell of incens-

Wait. Hold that thought.

Hospitals, as far as he knew, were sanctuaries full of sick people and machineries with flashy lights that would go "ping" at any given opportunity. Said hospitals were also filled with doctors that wore white coats to symbolize the purity of their souls, untouched by such human feelings as sympathy, compassion, or mercy (particularly towards ailing patients). And since hospitals were indeed full of aforementioned ill individuals, they must therefore adhere to the highest standards of cleanliness and sanitation necessary.

And it was against this argument that hospitals would not, under any circumstances, smell of incense and burning candles, (especially scented ones). In fact, they were supposed to reek of drugs and disinfectant (and all other things that only God knows what).

That's when he noticed (with a look of horror) the piled flowers, gifts, fruits and candles on the tiled floor beside his hospital bed. And the thick ribbon tied around the funeral flowers, which seemed quite expensive if one took a closer look (and Lelouch absolutely didn't), was just the icing on the cake.

In loving memory of

Lelouch vi Britannia

(December 5, 1990 – December 18, 2017)

Beloved son, devoted brother

A man of honor, advocate of--

Amethyst eyes narrowed. 'What's the meaning of this?!' With no one around to grace him with an answer, several possibilities echoed back to his pretty little head. One of which, Lelouch was very much not inclined to admit (and whoever God present up there forbid).

Of course. Who would even believe?

Lelouch vi Britannia could not possibly be dead.

("I'm still breathing, damn it!")

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his reverie. But the sight that greeted him brought him no glee.

"C.C.," he growled menacingly.

As if noticing for the first time that the room's sole occupant was wide awake and glaring daggers at the back of her skull, C.C. turned to him, faked a gasp, golden eyes twinkling, "Lelouch.. you're alive."

Cue eyebrow twitch.

"I was hospitalized, not dead, you witch," Lelouch hissed at the green-haired woman, currently pre-occupied with plucking the petals off a freshly bloomed rose. From where she got it, he refused to know.

C.C. smirked, tone clearly mocking him, "Of course, you're not. Silly."

(Insert wicked laughter, please.)

Lelouch glared, irritation expressed full force.

Unfazed, C.C. just gave an innocent but-definitely-not-so-innocent grin.

At the sight of that 'she-devil' smile (which awfully reminded him of a Medieval witch that replaced his peaceful childhood slumbers with horrible nightmares—don't ask), Lelouch was then flooded with a distinct memory of the episode that landed him on the hospital bed in the first place.

Like a broken record from a cheaply-funded movie, he could hear Milly's constant nagging (about his health), Shirley's unwavering incompetence (at work), Rivalz's incessant chatter (about Milly), and Mao's—

Oh, god no.

(Feeling of dread seeping through.)

Once again, Lelouch heard the wonderful conversation he had with the hallway's marbled floor.

(Floor, meet Lelouch.

Lelouch, meet Floor.

"Hey buddy, what's up?"

"I'm great! How about you?"

"Oh, absolutely wonderful! Did you know that I have a case today?"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, but I'm sick, so—"

And there was darkness.)

Lelouch groaned.

The resounding smack delivered to his forehead was by no means enough to hide his shame.

'Milly's never going to live this down,' he thought, absolutely horrified.

Because all hail Lelouch vi Britannia (the person who claimed to have never gotten sick in the past, at the present and absolutely not in the near future) fainted after a case (which he won of course) due to some teething fever.


Just great.

(With sarcasm to the nth power)

Well, at least it was after.

'But still,' his mind insisted.

He fainted.


Another smack.

Suddenly, the idea of death seemed tempting.

C.C., completely oblivious to the demeaning battle going on within Lelouch's head, took fancy on the gifts next to his bed. It was an awesome batch, really. Branded suits, watches, get-well-soon cards, chocolates ('Oh, I'll definitely have this.'), scented candles, herbal medicines, various food items...and finally ('...oohhh'), a very suspicious-looking, featherweight pink box.

'The Pleasure Pack:

Ultra fine and mega sensitive.

Your ticket to heaven, guaranteed!'

C.C. grinned.

'Now, that's interesting.'

Obviously, she needed not second guess who would even think of giving such gift.

C.C. could just hear the shrill laughter of a certain blond woman in the background (and Lelouch's hissy fit).

"—you here?"

Blink. "...hmm?"

Lelouch glared, irritated. Then, trying to salvage the dignity he still had left, Lelouch cleared his throat, fixed C.C. a nonchalant stare and asked, "So, why are you here?"

A pregnant pause.


Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Four sec-

That did it.

"C.C., just answer the question, damn it!"

After deep consideration (one that involved counting the non-existent dirt on the pristine white wall opposite Lelouch's bed, then multiplying it to the estimated number of ebony strands sitting atop his head), C.C. finally looked at him in the eyes and replied casually, "I'm getting married."

Lelouch was about to say 'that does not answer my question' when the meaning of those words dawned on him. Amethyst eyes widened in disbelief. "Schneizel actually proposed?" 'To you?' he added mentally.

Don't get him wrong. C.C., no matter how much Lelouch hated to admit, was an amazing woman. Beautiful, witty and definitely wealthy, with her coming from a family of doctors who owned several private hospitals within the country (the one Lelouch was in included), C.C. was more than enough to make Schneizel's previous lovers come running home for their money. (Please note Lelouch's blatant refusal to mention anything about C.C.'s personality).

But this was Schneizel they were talking about.

That withstanding, no one can blame him for not handing over the benefit of the doubt.


Just one of the anomalies of modern society.

The idea itself was absurd, assuming that such feat was actually even possible (again with Schneizel).

Schneizel vi Britannia was the epitome of a perfect man. A cold-hearted business mogul whose charm on the board could bring any man into throes of woe, misery and passion, all rolled into one. Sure, he had his fair share of women, but marriage was very farfetched, particularly for the seemingly mismatched pair of Schneizel and C.C.

Sorry to say, but they just don't fit.

Mismatch made in heaven, indeed.

'And this is Schneizel,' Lelouch's subconscious mind insisted yet again vehemently.

That itself and all other things considered. Period.

For one, Schneizel's love for money rivalled Milly's addiction to anything crazy (Lelouch shuddered at one memory). He would not look at any person twice without calculating the number of zeroes attached to you and your family. Or, to put it bluntly, Schneizel would not even spare you a glance if you're not a dollar sign with green eyes and a body.

(Lelouch was not defaming his brother. At all.)

(Mind you, he called it 'stating facts.' Absolutely nothing personal. Amen.)


Lelouch blinked and turned to the woman now sitting on his bed. "Sorry. What was that?"

C.C. rolled her eyes and replied monotonously, "I said, Schneizel didn't propose to me. Did you hit your head again or something?" She finished with a smirk.

Lelouch frowned, deciding not to grace her question with an answer. Instead, he asked, "How could you get married if he hasn't even propo-"

Lelouch stopped mid sentence, eyes turning darker at his conclusion. Burning anger surged to his veins as Lelouch turned to her, growling threateningly, "Cecilia," C.C. noted the use of her full name (a rare feat), "if you must know, we, vi Britannia, tolerate no form of filth or adultery. Such a disgrace! Honestly, if you even dare sully the Britannian name, I swear I'll-"

Lelouch broke off at the sound of C.C. laughing. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Lelouch regarded her, tone not the slightest bit pleased, "You find this funny, witch?"

C.C. looked back at him, highly amused. "I mentioned nothing about cheating on him, Lelouch. It's just you jumping to conclusions." She snorted for good measure. "Really, you and your brother complex"—he gave an annoyed grunt—"are just too much sometimes." She paused to glance at the reeling man. "Besides, sorry to burst your bubble, but Schneizel won't be the one proposing."

Lelouch blinked. 'Huh?'

Stop. Rewind. Play.


C.C. grinned wolfishly as if Christmas came early.

"I am."


(1) & (2) – Yep, like many of you have guessed, Ashford, Hawthorne and Associates was based on a real life law firm. The name was actually Clifford Chance, located at Canary Wharf in London. All the details included in this fic about Ashford, Hawthorne and Associates were theirs, not mine.

(3) Alicia Lohmeyer was an original character of Code Geass R2. She was Nunnally's advisor. Haha, again not mine.

(4) That wonderful line was not mine. It came from another fanfic that I've read in the past, entitled "Postcard Worthy."

(5) Lelouch was referring to Japan's largest criminal organization: The Yamaguchi-gumi.

Author's Note: That awfully long piece of writing is the first chapter of 'Twisted Fairytale.' As you've observed, it's practically much about Lelouch and all those jargon present in his life as a lawyer.

To those who got confused at the stuff I was saying, I'm terribly sorry, but I believe that they were absolutely needed for the readers to have a 'feel' as to how Lelouch would be as a lawyer. I hope I managed to pull that off though.

Don't worry, most of the legal jargon ends here. Up next would deal mostly with business terminologies.

Now, where could this ridiculous thing be going? I've dropped a lot of hints here and there, but the clear vision of the plot will appear on the next chapter.

Ok, now to answer some anticipated questions.

This story will run up to 16 to 17 chapters.

It's definitely YAOI, considering the main pairing of SUZAKU X LELOUCH.

This is AU so some of CG's original characters might seem a bit off so they could fit into the role assigned to them in this fic.

Hmm... what else?? *thinks hard*

Well, that's all the stuff I think people usually tend to ask.

But if you have more questions feel free to ask me! I'm more than willing to answer them.

Ok, so that's it, guys.

What are you waiting for?

Reviews/ Comments/ Flames/ Criticisms are highly appreciated.

See you in the next chapter!

'Twisted Fairytale, Second Chapter: The Charge

(Introducing Suzaku Kururugi)

PS: Do you like my Milly? How about C.C.? ... and oh yeah, Who could guess what Milly got for Lelouch as a gift? The winner gets a cookie!