Fandom: Code GEASS
Characters/Pairing: Gino/Suzaku, some Lelouch/Suzaku, a little past Gino/Anya
Rating: PG-13 at most
Warning: Humour, crack, excessive fluff, whirlwind romance, not-crippled!Nunnally, Lelouch being jealously possessive (and the author making fun of him to her utmost enjoyment), Gino extensively quoting Shakespeare, and silliness in general. And, uh, wordiness.
Word Count: 5748
Summary: ‘Romeo and Juliet’ gone horribly wrong. Total AU.
A/N: Basically I took the plot of this great work of Shakespeare and butchered it into… well, this. Enjoy, everyone.
For request: Gino and Lelouch, by assoil; prompt: fighting over Suzaku
JULIET: My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! 
When his mother called him to her quarters one summer afternoon, Gino knew at once that it had something to do with the party.
She did not disappoint. As soon as he had set both feet inside her room, tears started to flow from the corner of her eyes, which she affectedly dabbed with a dainty handkerchief. Gino found himself torn between strong filial duty and an even stronger impulse to run away.
“Mother?” he inquired uneasily, opting to stay as close as possible to the door in case circumstances necessitated him to execute a swift escape.
“My son,” Lady Weinberg gracefully held out a hand toward him. “My wonderful, handsome little boy. How good of you to come.”
Gino smothered a wince. He was familiar with his mother’s dramatic flair, but getting used to it was an altogether different matter. He took a deep breath to fortify himself and approached her, his footsteps low and muffled on the finely woven Persian rug which covered the floor. His mother was seated in a velvet armchair by the window, surrounded by an assortment of colourful embroideries she had been working on. She made a striking picture of a beautiful, highborn lady in her equally elegant chamber, her golden hair arranged in an elaborate knot at the top of her head, and her blue eyes, as bright as the summer sky, looking expectantly at him.
“Come, sit by my side,” she beckoned toward the chair next to hers. Gino seated himself down gingerly, suspicion multiplying by the second. This was going to be awful.
“I believe you have been made aware of the most recent incident involving your eldest brother and the Britannia heir,” she started, her voice quivering slightly. Gino nodded but refrained from offering a comment, even the most perfunctory. He had heard about it from one of the pageboys. Apparently, his eldest brother had taken a walk into the town this morning and acquired himself the most unfortunate meeting with the heir of the Britannia family. Quite unsurprisingly, the chance meeting had quickly escalated to a contest of insults.
And – again, quite unsurprisingly – his brother, who irrefutably possessed a much inferior aptitude in the field of public debate compared to that of the Britannia’s heir, had decided to turn the dispute into a contest of strength. With five men to support him, his victory had been as certain as the rising of the sun on the morrow – against two teenage boys no more than seventeen no less.
And then the element of surprise entered the story. The servant of Britannia, that boy of no more than seventeen, had proceeded to single-handedly defeat his brother and the rest of the Weinberg entourage. For the rest of the day, Gino had heard various names, many of which quite unutterable in public, directed to ‘that boy’ from his siblings. Such disgrace to the hallowed name of their family. Such infamy.
To be perfectly honest, he was more amused than anything. He had never taken much interest in these feuds, this long-standing enmity between the noble house of Weinberg and the noble house of Britannia which origin no one could tell anymore – it had been lost forever in the ocean of time, between its rippling waves. He was much more interested in beauty and the simple marvels of the world. Why spill blood and spread hate if one could share smile and harvest love?
“I simply cannot understand,” his mother was speaking, still immersed in her tale of woe. Gino found himself stealing wistful glances at the door. “Such meaningless hatred, and for what? Nothing. Only more hatred, more suffering for we must live day by day under its treacherous shadow. What shall I do if it eventually takes my children from me?”
Ever the devoted son, Gino reached for her trembling hands. “Please calm yourself, Mother. Your sons are all extensively trained in the skill of the blade and the art of fighting. We assure you that we cannot be struck down so easily.”
“But you have heard about this servant with the terrible, inhuman skill, have you not?” She was quite hysterical by now, voice trembling, tears flowing. “If Britannia wants, he can simply order this… this fiend to murder you all and I shall be left alone to tend the rest of my days in misery and utter solitude.”
Gino bit down an urge to make his feelings on the matter known and only took a deep breath. He was perfectly aware that he was walking into a trap, but there seemed to be no other choice. “If there is anything I could do to alleviate this anxiety from your mind, Mother,” he said solemnly, “I shall do it gladly.”
“Oh, my wonderful son.” She was now smiling radiantly, a touch of maternal pride in her eyes. “How noble you are, how devoted. I shall never forget your love and kindness toward your mother. And yes, I do, as a matter of fact, have an idea. Only a little one, but it is most delicate in situation and difficult in execution. And not to mention, you may be risking your father’s wrath as well if this plan by any chance succeeds. Are you still willing to do it for me?”
“I shall try everything within my capacity, dearest mother,” he heard himself saying bravely.
It was now her who was holding his hands. “I cannot ask for more,” she replied earnestly. “I have the utmost confidence in you, my dear child. Now let us speak of the details. You are aware, are you not, that the Britannia family will hold a ball tonight to celebrate the coming of age of their only daughter?”
“How can I not? The news spread in the city like a wildfire,” he answered with an uncertain laugh, still wary about the direction of this conversation.
“Indeed,” his mother nodded. “They are obviously not one for modesty. And do you not agree, that so powerful a hate which has ravaged our two great families for far too long can only be appeased by a passion as much powerful if not more?”
Gino blinked. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, Mother.”
“Love, my dear,” she said breathlessly, “is the most powerful of all.”
His expression must have been that of a total loss since his mother then spoke again. “Have you ever seen this young lady of the Britannia family?” she asked, a curious light in her eyes.
“Nunnally vi Britannia? Well, yes, but only from afar,” Gino answered carefully. He could not yet perceive his mother’s intentions, but he could tell that they were far from good, at least for him.
“Is she not a handsome lady?”
“Very handsome, Mother, but what–?”
“Splendid,” she sounded ecstatic. “You may just be the saviour our family has been hoping for, my good son.”
“I still cannot see how or why–”
“Let me tell you how,” she pulled him closer, her voice lowering into a secretive whisper. “You will go tonight to the ball – masquerade, as a matter of fact – and meet this young lady. It may have been by chance, a meeting orchestrated by the Lady Fate herself, and isn’t it a most romantic notion? And of course it is entirely possible that the two of you will fall in love with each other – such grand passion upon the young is unstoppable! And then you will be able to join our two great families in holy matrimony and thus ends hundreds of years of enmity.” She clapped her hands together, eyes glittering with excitement. “Oh, it will be the most wonderful thing! A great fortune indeed for both families, not to mention immeasurable happiness for our two children! You must not let this chance go by!”
“But that is not possible, Mother.”
His swift refusal seemed to crush her heart. “But why not?” she whispered anxiously, her lips quivering. “Oh, my dear child, you are not implying that you have given your heart to someone else, are you?”
Gino felt his lips thinning. “No, that is not the case,” he said flatly. He had never considered what he felt for Anya as love – or at least that grand passion his mother was so fond of going into rhapsodies over. She was a best friend, an absolutely wonderful one, and now that she had been proposed to by the nephew of the King himself, there seemed to be no point of letting this feeling to linger. His family might be very influential, but to go against the Crown was simply the quintessence of madness.
He had gotten over her, at least reasonably. This was he had been desperately telling himself in the past two months.
“Then pray tell me, what is it?” Clearly his mother still refused to give up.
“Because it is impossible, Mother,” he replied firmly, now getting upset himself. “I have never heard of something so ludicrous. Two strangers who have never met before falling in love at first sight? Even if I manage to commit such inane silliness, I dare say any sensible young lady will not.”
“But you are an exceptionally handsome, delightfully charming young man, my son,” she encouraged. “Why, if I were the young lady myself, I would have fallen in love with you in a heartbeat.”
Gino smothered a wince. It was not something one would want to hear from one’s parent, but his mother had always been much too free – and unguarded – in her speech, one thing which his father regretted every now and then but continued to turn a blind eye upon in the name of affection.
“A considerable problem still stands,” he pointed out, a final, desperate attempt to disentangle himself from his mother carefully-woven traps. “Neither of us has been invited to the ball, Mother, and to procure an invitation now when the hour is so late is without doubt out of the question. And that is if they are willing to consider inviting us in the first place, which given the state of history between our families is even more out of the question.”
“Ah yes, the invitation.” She folded her hands neatly, one atop the other on her lap, an enigmatic smile curving her lips. “A considerable problem, yes, but I happen to know that Lady Earlstreim has received one.”
Gino stared at her. “Mother,” he whispered, a nauseous feeling rising in his stomach, “you did not.”
“But her fiancée is not here to escort her, Gino,” she said innocently. “Do you think it is wise for a young lady of such high rank to attend a ball alone?”
“Well, do you think it is wise for an engaged young lady of such high rank to be seen in public in the company of another man?” he retaliated, irritation for the first time slipping into his voice.
“But you are a good friend of hers,” she reasoned. “I am sure the amiable earl will not mind.”
Gino found himself unable to retaliate in front of this tremendous, perhaps somewhat misplaced determination infusing every word coming from her lips, every expression shifting on her face. He slumped even deeper in his chair and regretted, more than ever, his decision not to leave when he still had had the chance. “These are all so incredibly absurd,” he murmured, deliberately avoiding her eyes in hope that she would take pity on him. Surely a mother’s heart was not made of stone, above all before her son’s profound suffering.
“You have promised me that you will try,” she reminded him gently. There was a beseeching look in her eyes and suddenly he discovered that it was his heart which was not made out of stone. “That is all I ask, my dearest. One try, and who knows, by the will of the gods or others, perchance you will set eyes upon your true love at tonight’s ball.”
He could not help a dry laugh. “My true love.”
“Fate is whimsical and capricious,” his mother said, in a voice which held many secrets and wonders of the world. “She may decide to give you a chance, but you must be there to take it from her hand.”
Unhappy as he was with the entire arrangement, Gino still could not help a little smile. “Was that a line from another book?”
Lady Weinberg’s expression was solemn when she replied, “Books are my only consolation now that my days are so closely intertwined with fear for my sons’ life.” She sniffled softly, once more on the verge of tears, and gave him a look so utterly heartbreaking that it was impossible to be anything but an exaggeration. “Will you not listen to your mother’s request? Just this once?”
Gino sighed deeply and resigned himself to fate. At this stage, it was already less painful than trying to prolong this conversation – in which he had lost regardless. “I shall try, Mother,” he said at last, the knowledge that he had practically thrown himself over the proverbial cliff a heavy shade in his voice, “but I can promise nothing if Fate is indeed as whimsical and capricious as you said.”
He was rewarded with a sweet, grateful smile. “That, my dear, is all I ask,” she said warmly.
Lelouch vi Britannia was not happy. He sat on a chair near a wide open door leading to the balcony, frowning every time the sound of cheer and delight from the merriment downstairs reached his ears.
Merriment. He scoffed, twirling a chess pawn between his long fingers. As if this cacophony ever deserved such a name. He knew of the custom, of course, but there was no rule to say that he was required to be happy about it. And why would one be happy to see one’s dearest sister entering adulthood and having too many uncouth, horribly unsuitable suitors in her vicinity, impatient to take her away from one’s side? Upset would have been a better expression.
He glanced toward his sister who was still seated in front of the vanity, adding the last touch of powder and rouge to her pretty face with the aid of her maid. Nunnally, to his utmost disappointment, did not seem to mind this entire coming-of-age business. True, it allowed her to appear in public socially, but Lelouch felt that its less pleasant sides were rather overwhelming compared to what she – and he, in that matter – gained in return.
“What do you think, Brother?”
Nunnally stood up and twirled around once, her pink silk dress flaring out magnificently down to the floor. It shimmered in the candlelight, laces and tulles and seed pearls, every inch beautifully embroidered. Above the scalloped neckline, she wore a silvery necklace of three exquisite pearls as its centre. His expression softened for a moment – why, she looked like an angel, pure, beautiful, perfect – and then he remembered those so-called gentlemen waiting downstairs like wild lions ready to pounce a deer and it reverted back to a frown.
“Do you really have to come down all dressed up like this?” he voiced his disagreement.
A little pout curved her – god forbid, they were red – lips. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Lelouch inwardly sighed. He did not have the heart to ruin her day, even if he found it to be thoroughly unbearable. “You are beautiful,” he said truthfully, allowing just the barest hint of longing to touch his voice. “Too beautiful in fact, that I fear you will not return to your brother once you have descended these stairs, for you have no sooner arrested the attention of a noble prince who before the night grows old will have demanded for your hand in marriage.” He closed his eyes, an expression of pain twisting his face. “Tell me if my fears are unfounded.”
“Your fears are unfounded, dear brother,” she said placidly.
“I happen to disagree.”
Nunnally’s laughter was as clear as the tinkling of a silver bell as she took his hands in hers, pulling him to his feet. “Let me assure you that I have no intention of leaving this family – and most certainly not you, Brother – so soon,” she solemnly promised and slipped her arm around his.
Lelouch was not willing to be appeased. “I still do not understand the purpose of this party,” he said petulantly but let her lead him to the balcony, brother and sister arm-in-arm.
“Well, a young woman of fifteen–“
“I know that we need to celebrate your debut,” he interrupted her, his eyes sweeping across the vast night sky and the garden down below where a celebration of music and laughter was going on. A carnival of colours, shifting and glimmering between little flickers of fire from elevated torches and brightly burning candles. Breathtaking as the sight might be, it could not mislead him from despising its true nature. “But what is the purpose of inviting a band of loud, insufferable misfits such as them?” He waved a hand toward the male population of the guests in general
“I believe our mother’s intention is to attract suitors,” his sister answered with a marked lack of abashment.
Lelouch glowered. “I absolutely loathe that idea,” he declared stiffly, clasping her fingers between his even more tightly. “Never speak of it again in my presence.”
Nunnally tried to hide a smile behind a lacy sleeve but failed. “Yes, Brother.”
“Every man who tries to court you are required to seek and win my approval first before he can proceed,” Lelouch continued, plans already forming in his head. “Without exception, even those who claimed to be princes and nobles of high rank. Be sure to let them know about this.” And hopefully it can discourage them from trying ever again, he silently added to himself.
Nunnally raised a pair of perfectly shaped eyebrows. “But how will you determine any of them to be worthy of your approval?”
Lelouch did not bother to contain his smile as he tilted his head slightly to whisper in her ear. “I shall tell them to cross blade with Suzaku and see if any can win against him.”
“Oh, Brother!” she exclaimed, horrified but amused at the same time. “That is too wicked! No one will be able to earn your approval if such is the demand you exact!”
“My point precisely,” he deadpanned and looked around for the young man in question. “Where is he, by the way? He is supposed to escort you down with me right now – not that I mind if you stay here all night and do not come down at all.”
Nunnally rolled her eyes, as unladylike the action was. “Father summoned him on a matter of security earlier,” she explained. “He said it would not be long.”
Lelouch frowned. “Security? I thought we had agreed that he could enjoy the party as a normal guest.” That the news turned out to upset him was not surprising, at least for him. He had found himself growing unusually protective toward his friend of late, and while this discovery had perplexed him at first, now he simply embraced it as a part of him which he could not deny.
“I reminded him about it, but he said that he did not mind,” Nunnally replied with a sigh.
“Did he ever mind anything?” Lelouch said dryly. As much as he and Nunnally tried to ensure the other boy that they were in no way above him despite the distinguished status of their family or his foreign origin, Suzaku continued to regard himself as a servant. Lelouch was very willing to blame his father’s notoriety if he had not discovered that this determination mostly came from his friend’s own humble nature.
“Why do you not mind him, Brother?” his sister’s soft, melodious voice suddenly asked.
He shifted his eyes away from a couple who seemed to be engaged more than just dancing near a row of tall rosebushes and looked at his sister oddly. “Why would I mind him?”
“Well,” there was a deliberate pause and the expression on her face became slightly more coquettish than what he was comfortable with, “he is an exceedingly attractive young man, and as far as I am concerned, may become a fine suitor too one day,”
Lelouch decided that he despised the theory with all of his heart. “No, he will not,” he answered stiffly.
Nunnally gave him a look of utter surprise. “Brother, are you saying that you think of him as one of a lower status and therefore is unsuitable to ask for your sister’s hand? After everything we have been through together all these years?”
“I am saying that any affection between you and Suzaku is surely much deeper than this fickle thing these young men have the nerve to offer you,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument – only enough for him to make his escape.
“Well, if you put it that way,” she admitted with a sigh. “I do regard him as a brother, at least for now.”
His eyes focused on hers, a blue colour as deep as the sea on a clear summer day. “What exactly are you implying?” he asked slowly, cautious now since this might prove to be a vulnerable terrain for them both. Was it possible that his sister harboured a certain secret affection toward Suzaku? He found the thought disconcerting, and more than a little daunting for he had absolutely no intention to hurt her in any way, on any level.
“Nothing, my honoured elder brother,” Nunnally answered innocently, but the twinkle in her eyes spoke of much less innocent things. “Pray do not trouble your mind. I am sure there is someone else far more suitable to give our dearest friend happiness than I can ever hope to.”
She smiled and Lelouch cleared his throat, looking away from her knowing eyes. There was, indeed, someone else. He was just not entirely sure how to tell Suzaku that.
“Have you seen her?”
“No,” Anya answered, sounding completely indifferent as per usual. Her voice always had a certain detached, far-away quality that Gino found rather endearing. He sent a furtive glance in her direction – she was stunning in her silvery white gown, almost aglow like the moon itself. Her pink hair was elaborately arranged on top of her head with many small wreaths of flowers and her normally half-lidded eyes seemed larger now that they were framed by a glittery, butterfly-shaped mask. So beautiful and so cold, he reflected with a quiet sigh, and so untouchable like a northern star as the shadows of the night faded away to a pale winter morning.
It was with great willpower that Gino forced himself to return to the task at hand. The night was deepening and he had yet to catch a glimpse of his target. He once more swept his gaze across the dancing crowd but immediately became deeply discouraged. The ball was quite a magnificent sight beneath the shroud of cloudless night sky, but all this beauty and splendour made it even difficult for him to distinguish one lady from the other. It did not help that he had only ever seen Nunnally vi Britannia a few times and from quite a distance at that.
“Are you serious about this?” Anya suddenly spoke again. Her voice was devoid of any curiosity despite the enquiring nature of the sentence, but she was now looking at him with a pair of eyes equally devoid of any emotion. Gino thought of how like a doll she was sometimes.
“My mother was quite adamant,” he said plainly, for honesty came all too easily to him in her company. “She was entirely without doubt that once a proper meeting had firmly taken place, we will fall in love with each other in a matter of heartbeats.”
“And supposedly you do not?”
Gino released a dramatic sigh. “Then I suppose I shall have to continue my search for true love elsewhere and leave these two great families to carry on with their time-honoured feud in peace.”
Anya said nothing in return. He cast another sidelong glance toward her, but her eyes remained inscrutable in their opaque colour – always a barrier, never a window. She would forever remain a mystery to him.
An excited murmur from a group of young noblemen conversing nearby pulled his attention toward the balcony. Gino blinked, holding his breath. There she was, a beautiful young woman dressed in pink, standing aloft like an angel who had just descended from the heavens above to grace this lowly earth with her presence. She was talking quietly to a dark-haired young man whom he secretly hoped was not her brother, for it would provide him with a perfectly reasonable explanation to placate his mother on the face of his failure – other than the whimsicality of Fate.
But then the young man disappeared into the mansion and the lady was left standing alone, looking into the faraway distance beyond these lofty walls. Gino found himself standing before a forked path, filial duty and common sense once more engaging in a skirmish of an epic proportion.
“There are stairs at the back of the mansion,” Anya said all of a sudden, eyes briefly flickering toward him before continuing their impassive scrutiny on an indiscriminate spot among the crowd, “if there is still a plan to follow.”
Duty won, all bloodied and tattered, and Gino sighed deeply. “I cannot turn a blind eye to my mother’s wish,” he said mournfully and adjusted his mask. “It is only for that reason that I now shall see if tonight Lady Fate has decided to smile upon my poor soul and take me to my true love. Wish me luck, dear friend.”
She only acknowledged his words with an expressionless look. Gino fortified himself with a deep breath before joining the crowd, wading his way through dancing pairs and chattering groups. A few times he took a surreptitious look toward the balcony, to make sure that the lady was still there – or the exact opposite, he couldn’t say for sure. Once he also cautiously looked around, to make sure that he had not roused anyone’s suspicion.
And that was when he saw him.
A young man, or perhaps even a boy in the bloom of his adolescence, with brown hair and the most beautiful pair of green eyes he had ever seen. He was alone, walking – nay, gliding – across the dance floor, not three paces away from him. A golden mask rested just beneath curly bangs, a beautiful complement to his white-green outfit and the sharp eyes which were intent on their observation to a small gate leading out of the garden. But they strayed off once, flashing toward the crowd, and – was it his own imagination? – lingered on his person one or two seconds longer than a mere professional inspection required that Gino was certain his heart had ceased to beat for a few moments.
One. And then two. Perhaps three. A breadth of eternity between two hearts as they beat as one.
Gino realised that he was staring, but he could not tear his gaze away from this breathtaking creature Fate led him to. Not exactly what his mother had in mind when she had devised the plan perhaps, but then again, what did it matter? He had found his true love and love was love in all its imperfections and deformities. Love was power in and for itself, blinding and overwhelming and greater than life itself. Love was invincible.
Then those eyes turned away, and along with their possessor disappeared through the gate. The gate. Which led toward the back of the mansion.
Gino’s heart raced. Well, was it not convenient. After all, it was his intention to go to the mansion and seduce the young lady of Britannia. In his opinion, there was no significant harm in adding another objective – even if the new one happened to have arrogated the throne of importance from the original as had been assigned to him by his mother.
The hinges yielded with a small groan when he pushed the iron door to provide him entry. Beyond the gate was dark and deserted save for a pair of guards who was sitting around near a low hedge of Cape jasmine, sharing a plate of food they had probably acquired from the party table. He slipped past them easily and spotted the stairs Anya had mentioned earlier at the west side of the mansion, two flights of stone steps leading to the second storey.
But his love was nowhere to be seen.
Gino tried to contain his disappointment. He had to find that young man again, the holder of his heart since the moment they had laid eyes on each other. He must, before everything was too late for his destiny might be sealed once he ascended these steps. He bit his lips, looking around frantically, praying for one more miracle, until he felt something hard and cold on the base of his neck.
And then there was a voice, low, firm, and dangerous.
“Stop right there.”
His hand was steady when he held the sword, its deadly tip aimed toward the intruder’s neck. Suzaku felt his face tightened with disgust. These stairs would take one directly to Lady Nunnally’s quarters. There was no doubt in him as to what the intentions of this man were.
“Turn around slowly,” he continued, his voice shifting slightly into the sharper margin he had learnt to be quite effective in these situations. “Do not try anything or this blade may cut your throat by mistake.”
Suzaku took one step back and watched as his order was followed with a defeated air. The man was very tall, with blond hair and three little braids at its end, and a pair of bright-coloured eyes that widened slightly when they had acquired a good look at him. The night was too dark to distinguish his features clearly, but even with the mask, Suzaku was absolutely certain that this man was not a member of the Britannia household. Anyone of consequence – and more importantly, with a rightful claim to enter her ladyship’s chamber – he would have recognised in an instant.
But he did recognise this man. His eyes narrowed when he realised that the intruder was the same young man who had been staring at him mere seconds ago in the party. No doubt it was a part of some reconnoitre plan – the man must have recognised him one way or another as a servant of Lord Lelouch and Lady Nunnally – although he could only comment on how poor the endeavour was. Outright staring could hardly be called furtive, which defeated the entire purpose of attempting reconnoitre in the first place.
“Who are you?” he asked coldly, sword once again poised and carefully aimed to the stranger’s neck. “And please state your business here.”
“Who are you?” the echo came softly, a loving, deferential whisper. “And please allow me to kiss your rosy lips.”
The words sank in like a series of gigantic boulders falling from a great height onto the unsuspecting ground. Suzaku stared, stunned into utter incoherence as a hand reached past his sword and secured gloved fingers around his wrist. He made a small noise of surprise when the stranger proved himself to be as good as his words and kissed him fully on the mouth, another hand slipping behind his neck to pull him closer.
It took him a few breathless moments to recover from the moment of immobility, but even when he had, it was still the other man who took the initiative to break the kiss. It left them staring at each other, one in massive shock and the other in rapturous wonders. Suzaku swallowed, and realised with a flash of panic that he had his back against the ivy-grown wall of the mansion.
“You…” he breathed out, shakily, “what in the name of–”
“Love,” the stranger cut him off, sounding as breathless as he was. “It is the greatest passion, the law which governs all, and the essence of life itself. It is the song my heart sings for you, o fair one, since it yearns for the sweet taste of your lips and the feel of your warm skin upon mine.”
To say that he was dumbfounded would be a severe understatement. His understandings on these matters had been so far limited to small, demure hints from one of the maids or town girls with whom he often associated. None of them had ever approached him in this fashion and most certainly never this passionate. It seemed that this man, whatever his true intentions were, had discarded manners and decorum in favour of a greater impact.
And it was working, as mortified as Suzaku was to admit it. His grip on the hilt of his sword loosened and the blade clattered to the stone floor when the stranger hooked an arm around his waist and once more leant in, his intent as clear as day. Their lips brushed against each other, but no sooner had the kiss deepened, a shrill shout pierced the night.
He broke away from the kiss and whipped his head up toward the source of the voice. His heart sank when he realised, with uncontainable horror, that Lelouch was looking down at the scene from the top of the stairs, his face lined with angry astonishment. The stranger seemed to notice this as well, for he released Suzaku from his arm and proceeded to bring his hand to his lips, kissing the back admiringly.
“This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet ,” he whispered, blue eyes promising things Suzaku did not dare to name at the moment. Another kiss was delivered most ardently to his hand. “I shall see you again, my love,” he promised and then hastily made his escape toward the gate as Lelouch’s voice came again, issuing angry orders.
“Capture that impertinent scoundrel and bring him to me!”
Two guards rushed past him in a hurry to carry out the mandate, leaving Suzaku standing against the ivy-grown wall, still robbed of both the power of speech and action.
End Part One
: Romeo and Juliet Act I Scene 5
: Romeo and Juliet Act II Scene 2