A/N:

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Even my OC is borrowed from Allora Gale :)

Warnings: Mental Illness, BDSM, Rape, Incest, possible gore, attempted suicide, and a lot of Religious Stuff, including Geass Order... Probably more too as the fic gets longer

As much as I did not want this to turn into a stand-alone side story, it seems like I didn't get my way, like always. This fic is a prequel/parallel to it's sister story (har-har) Checkmate: Schemes and Subjugation. Now, I'm not going to say you can read it without prior knowledge of the events of the other fic, and I'm not going to say it's required either. My goal is to have it be where if someone wants hardcore pr0n for 5 chapters they can read Checkmate, or choose not to and read this one... but I'm a dirty fucking liar so don't believe a word I say. Plus shameless promotion time... Read my other fic :) I've categorized it as "Complete." When I decide to continue that plotline I may or may not open up and continue writing in that one or I may do the same as here, and start a new fic since it will, essentially, be a new book in a series too. Let's see if this Author's note makes sense. Shoot me a PM if it does not. Spoiler warnings to the other fic too and also in my footnotes, where I make note to references. CM=Checkmate.

Oh yes. To readers finding this fic first, besides "Zero's Legacy," all of my CG fics are within a fem!Lelouch universe. However, Feminine Rebellion has little to do with this series. Any references made to that book is purely out of fun or laziness.

Ghost Stories

The commonly used definition for the verb "obsess," is to "preoccupy or fill the mind of (someone) continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent." This context came about within the last century or two, and did not accurately depict the situation. A more proper analysis, going back to the root of said word, and tracing its usage throughout history, is a much more practical. Without a proper understanding, it was easy to be confused, and take things out of context.

The first part comes from the Latin word obsidere. Ob, which meant opposite, and sidere, meaning to sit were the origins of the word. It literally meant to sit upon something. This later formed into obsession, and in English translated to "obsess" meaning to be sieged, taken hold of by an entity. A few centuries later, it meant to be "haunted." Some accounts say it meant "hostile actions by evil spirits," and that was Schneizel's favorite usage, considering his situation. With the invent of psychology the word expanded to eventually mean the bastardized version of the modern day.

There was a distinct possibility if fate arranged events differently this deviation wouldn't have frustrated him. If he enrolled in his language studies course before the invasion of Area 11, and the subsequent 'death' of his half siblings, he wouldn't have found the Middle English version so applicable to his situation. He wasn't so much constantly thinking of Lelouch as he was haunted by Lulu. She was his favorite sister, and arguably the only one that mattered.

The first time he noticed an attraction to her audacity was when she was four. Lelouch snuck into his room because of some mundane childish reason: he broke a promise. [1] Humans always break promises; it was a fact of life, and one she could have benefited in learning. He was fuming when he found his room in a giant mess. Schneizel yelled at her, the cracking of his immature voice only made his fury even more ferocious. Rage wasn't something uncommon for him at the time. It was the abnormal ability to feel calmed by her crying that was different.

The way her large dark lavender eyes sparkled was mesmerizing. Her wails sent shivers down his spine and a heat to his baby faced cheeks. He attributed the sensation to his sadistic nature, and not the notion that her childish behavior excited him. She was a child. Only someone completely and utterly unstable could look at one with lust. Schneizel wasn't that deranged. The tantrum only brought a smile to his lips, and a desire to play chess with her. He wasn't disappointed by the eccentric emotions she displayed. It was quite the contrary.

The idea of her as an adult haunted him.

For that intensity to be contained within a form with long legs that could wrap around his waist, it was too much. He did the only thing that made sense, given the situation. Schneizel separated Lelouch and Lulu, creating two similar personalities. Whenever Lelouch would do something that fascinated him, it would translate into his fantasies, usually a more mature version of the act. He cycled through fleeting emotions of both ecstasy, and anger of the prospect of her aging. As Schneizel grew, so did his tastes, often to more niche urges. It would be hypocritical to judge similar actions. He was hypocritical by nature, but he didn't want to be with Lulu.

2006:

"Isn't role-playing something that comes when a relationship is stale? I mean. I will do what you ask, obviously; you are the second Prince… I just." She looked down at the small case. Two silicone hydrogel lenses looked back. The dark lavender, almost amethyst shade of the iris was a stark difference to her own greyish blue hue. "I just always thought my eye color was my best feature considering it is so rare."

"They are quite wonderful." Schneizel said, lovingly caressing her temple. "It's just -"

He scooted closer on the bench, and kissed the corner of her eyelid. They were alone. The lampposts of the quad were becoming aglow as the setting changed to dusk; the rest of the students were mostly in their respective dorms, preparing for midterms. Her hideous blue-grey eyes seemed luminescent against the sunset. They were desirable only due to the lack of melatonin present. The pigment would make less of an impact beneath the contact.

Schneizel sighed, and averted his gaze. To the upperclassman such a gesture appeared bashful, innocent, and adorable. Her gaze followed his, surely not seeing the splendor that caught the young prince's attention.

The hot sun caused most of the environment to dry despite the afternoon downpour, and yet the lone flower, crowded by differing blossoms of red, yellow, and orange, retained liquid. It seeped through the individual petals like teardrops. The leftover moisture caused the purple to sparkle in the most mesmerizing fashion. Haunting. Those eyes haunted him, drawing a reaction from nothing, a flower. He bit his lip at the memory, disguising his flush as something more fitting towards the situation.

She gave him a weak smile, clearly offended, but unable to deny his request. Her lustrous black hair fell forward when she turned to face him. Her face blushed to match his, and she handed the small case back with nervousness.

"Um. I've never put contacts in so if you want me to wear them now... You're going to have to do it."

He nodded, holding her eyelid open when she instinctively fought to blink against the invasion. The false iris floated against the whites of her eye, and Schneizel kept his position longer than necessary. His cool, uninterested aura shook with barely contained excitement. She was the only thing that could do that to him. He was dead otherwise. That lid was released, and he moved on to her left eye.

The amount of time it took for her to press the heels of her hands against the area, and shake away minor discomfort was torture. Then again, the few tears, shed due to the foreign object and prolonged exposure to air, were fitting. When she eventually opened her eyes his disappointment should have been evident. What looked right floating against clear saline solution, and the sclera, became sullied over Northern European taint. His stare contained an intensity near unheard of from Schneizel. The teenager girl didn't read between the lines correctly, given her coy flirting.

She pouted, and twirled the ends of her long strands around her pointer finger. "What do you-"

"Close." He interrupted, trailing his fingers from her jawline to the hem of her blouse. The tie of her school uniform was undone, and the blouse was unbuttoned enough to reveal ample cleavage and a black lace bra. "Near ideal. However, for now; Lulu."

"Lulu? Is that a pet name?" She giggled.

Throughout the years, Schneizel found himself spending an absurd amount of money on the manufacturing of perfectly shaded contacts for every eye color. It was never enough.

hThe idea of Lelouch changing, of becoming less pure - using the old French meaning of the word, was intolerable. His dearest sister could never be less simple, absolute, or unalloyed. The idea of her acting in reservation, of poise, to wall off her intensity, seemed wrong. It could be considered sinful even, if he believed in such things. He began devoting more and more time away at school, distancing himself from disappointment, of the day she became dull. At least it proved Kanon wrong; his infatuations weren't fleeting considering he felt immense dread over the idea of Lelouch becoming like him for years. She would become reserved. He knew she could never actually be like him. His mother noticed a lack of passion as young as grade school. Still, it was a paranoia that never ceased.

The reason Lelouch was exiled was the same reason he loved her, and the instance that incited such an epiphany. Illusion and fantasy morphed into one pint sized form; he couldn't separate them. Hearing of her irrational, self-righteous behavior caused Schneizel heart to skip a beat, and become arrhythmic. At least, it felt that way at the time. He clutched the lapel of his blazer and his face became flushed. For the first time in his memory, he was at a loss for words. For a moment he wondered if it was a heart attack, despite his young age.

When Guinevere, that gossiping bitch, gave the news of Lelouch's outburst he knew she would never change. The staged death of Marianne, a life shattering event that would leave other children docile, and thinking to please, made Lelouch, no, Lulu, even more of a firecracker. That day his fantasy became a reality: he admitted his desire for her, and not simply a figment of his imagination.

Patience was a virtue.

It's funny, really, that such a person never came to be. His idea of her adult self was nothing like the real Lulu. The physical attributes he envisioned were closer to Euphie, or Cornelia. Neither of the Li Britannia sisters interested him, nor any other member of the family. His incestuous urges were limited to her. Schneizel breathed a sigh of relief after the shock of Lulu's exile wore off. It was better that way. It afforded him a few years to be in Pendragon without seeing her. Even if their father shipped her off to boarding school in a different colony, she would still be home for the holidays. Life as a political hostage was the best way to ensure she would go through puberty, becoming the woman of his dreams, without being defiled ahead of time. She would be a present, neatly wrapped under the tree, waiting for him to become powerful enough to bring back, and open.

Her hauntings became worse once she died, or Schneizel believed that she died.

Nunnally was nothing more than a footnote compared to the bold black letters on crisp eggshell paper. The words seemed to jump off the page. "The Vi Britiannia children were missing." Lulu was lost somewhere in a warzone. Clearly she thought herself abandoned, discarded due to dwindled status and favor. Schneizel wasn't even afforded a chance; it wasn't supposed to be like this. He clutched the note in his fist, shaking with rage. Toward whom such wrath should be directed, he wasn't certain.

Genbu Kururugi, the obvious culprit if he were to believe such propaganda, was already deceased. "He stabbed himself with a knife," Kanon had said. The international media was making it look like Honor Suicide. "In order avoid defeat in battle, and dishonor the Japanese people, the Prime Minister took his own life. It was all to show his resolve in the stance of absolute surrender." The headlines were openly skewed.

If that man had any honor he would have adhered to the deal. He would have called for an all-out resistance, and then wait until the Britannia forces ran out of sakuradite needed to power the prototype Knightmare frames. The clunky, cumbersome method of extracting the mineral would not be fast enough to keep up with demand. The Britannian military wouldn't have been able to keep up a war on so many fronts with only the Chapman mines, and minor other locations, to supply the ore.

This was the reason the invasion was orchestrated in such a fashion: to limit the last remaining member of that household from gaining power again. When the Emperor allowed the family to keep a small plot of land, he never expected it to be hiding enough wealth to expand. Within a generation the cast offs acquired enough land and esteem to once again rule over the Oregon duchy. No good deed goes unpunished. Charles ZI Britannia was punished for sparing the bastard son of his uncle. Unbeknownst to most who did not act as the man's shadow, this was what sparked the cold exterior. The gentle, loving father Schneizel could barely recall was locked away, shown only secretly, after the coronation.

It was only Schneizel's wit that allows him to see the real reason why the children were sent away. Lulu and Nunnally were given as a measure of good faith, the latter offered in political marriage. The armistice was supposed to be signed after a stalemate. Genbu would grant unlimited mining rights, and Japan would be spared. It was a dirty deal. Sill, it was better than the alternative. Most importantly the children should have been kept safe. Instead those Japanese dogs were slaughtered, and turned into Numbers. The Prime Minister of Japan had to be a cruel man to choose such an action.

He wasn't as cruel as Schneizel's own father, the Emperor. The man was admired before the happening provided a lackluster search for his children. As a boy, Schneizel wanted to be just like him, except he never would have sacrificed Lulu for sakuradite. Even with a fascination with technology, he couldn't understand. Charles sent the Vi Britannia children away because he claimed to love them. However, he clearly didn't know what love meant. Otherwise he would have called off the invasion until his children were found, or, at least, searched for them with longing afterwards. They were both claimed dead near instantly after the end of the war. It didn't make any sense, unless Charles knew something he didn't.

Perhaps it was so.

Perhaps their father murdered Lulu to preserve his love for her. Schneizel did enjoy slitting the throats of lovers before he got to know them too well, making them real, and not a fantasy. He too wanted Lulu to remain constant, like the love in Shakespeare's sonnet 116. Truly such a state cannot be attained by mortals, meaning, "No man ever loved."[2] Schneizel wouldn't admit that it was one in the same. The sense of betrayal was too deep for such petty reasons for forgiveness.

The similarities were dutifully overlooked, spoken only to Kanon. Kanon was his only lover whom was kept. The man was the opposite of Schneizel, empathetic to a fault. He appeared to be able to feel the emotions in Schneizel that the young adult lacked, suggesting new ways to find entertainment, a rush, or to pay homage to Lulu. Throughout the years Schneizel tried many methods of creation and destruction. Many of his fetishes were discovered during college; however, he never discovered a way to turn a look alike into Lulu. No matter how much he manipulated, it was never enough.

2012:

"What should I do, Kanon?" Schneizel inquired, not bothering to assist in cleaning the room. He spread out on the black silk sheets of the king sized bed, similar to how the other man was positioned mere moments prior. Except Schneizel remained unbound, and he faced the ceiling, searching for the answers to his question within subtly patterned plaster ceiling.

Privacy wasn't the only perk of moving off campus. Space for a larger mattress was the deciding factor. He didn't care to keep his sexual interests private; his whips, chains, and spreader bars were often left out in the dorms. Only Kanon cared to put them away in the cherry stained chest. That habit of his remained after the two settled into the Victorian row house their sophomore year. It continued to thrive years later too.

Pastel purple eyes peeled away from the, possibly, imaginary designs to meet concerned oceanic blue. A small smile accentuated Schneizel's newly squared jaw, having grown into his figure later than most. With surprisingly swift movement but not surprisingly strength, he pulled the smaller man back down, running his finger over the trail of bite marks and welts on his slender back. The answers were not there either, however, the sight was much more aesthetically pleasing.

Schneizel enjoyed fucking, but had no intentions of being the one whom was fucked. He was more masculine, with sculpted muscles thanks to an affinity towards exercising. It was a slightly more productive means of alleviating his antsy nature. Needless to say, Schneizel was also of higher social standing. He was barely older, but pederasty [3] wasn't a fetish, or a lifestyle he wished to pursue.

"Try dating other men?" Kanon suggested after a pregnant pause. He didn't mean it. His body, which was usually left limp and sated, became rigid under Schneizel's tender touch. The action was not in the setting that he was ready for another round either. "Maybe you just don't like women."

"No. It's not that." Schneizel mused, brushing the bangs away from Kanon's forehead. "I adore women, although none have captivated me enough to remain interesting. Even ones who are the complete opposite become stale and boring after too long. They all give in; it is not just women. Perhaps you are right, that I simply put her on too much of a pedestal. Humans always want what they cannot have, and what is more unattainable than the deceased? Besides, I meant what I said that you are the only man I want, Kanon. No one other than you could understand me."

He thumbed the white leather around his lover's neck. The jewelry was normally hidden from view by the younger man's shirt collar, revealed only to him. Its significance was deeper than that of a wedding ring, as it was actually voluntary for both parties. His betrothal was anything but; a political marriage meant to buy favor over Odysseus, not that the older sibling needed much convincing to abdicate the throne when the time came. It was of little consequence. He pined over the ghost of a dead woman - a dead girl, really. It seemed fitting for him to marry someone experiencing the fate he wanted to save Lulu from. If nothing else, it would keep the Lady Chapman alive. She was boring from the beginning, and positively predictable. There was no luster to preserve. At least, none that she showed him. Perhaps it was a perfect match.

That conversation was an omen for the future. Right when he was about to sign the marriage papers, someone, or rather, something sparked Schneizel's curiosity: The death of his younger brother, Clovis, by terrorists. He didn't watch the broadcast live, but the vibrations of the vigilante's announcement caught his attention. For Cornelia to be so enraged that she lost all control, calling him to complain, like old times, spoke volumes. He couldn't help but dig through recordings to see this "Zero."

It was an odd sensation; there a slight rise in blood pressure seeing Kururugi's escape on the screen. There was something about that sylphlike form that brought a sense of déjà vu. Schneizel could practically feel the smug satisfied smirk radiating through computer monitor. The desire to pause and analyze the mannerisms was pushed back in lieu of watching the most recent development. Zero's announcement of the Black Knights brought about something he didn't feel in almost a decade.

Euphoria.

Schneizel held onto the arms of his velvet reclining chair with white knuckles as the camera panned from a mass rafts, filled with freed hostages, floating in the lake to the newly formed Black Knights. He watched that scene several times, each instance focusing on a different quirk: a slight fidget of the fingers when Zero thrust her arms out, forcing the cape of that black king piece inspired costume to billow outward, the tone of the voice, hidden behind a program mimicking Carl Kassel; the fact that it was the radio announcer's voice in the first place. His suspicions only became worse with each time the video was replayed. That character...

"I will return them to you now. People of the world! Fear us, and seek us out! We are the Order of the Black Knights! We Black Knights are allies of all those who are unarmed! Be they Elevens, or Britannians! The cowardly Japan Liberation Front took Britannian civilians as hostages, and murdered them cruelly. It was a meaningless act. Thus I have punished them.

The former Viceroy, Clovis, was the same. He ordered the slaughter of unarmed Elevens. I cannot ignore such atrocities. Thus I punished him. I do not refuse to fight. However, I will never allow the strong to bully the weak! The only ones who can shoot are those who are prepared to be shot by others.

When the powerful attack the powerless, we will appear again! No matter how powerful our enemy may be. You with power fear me! You without power, seek me! We, the Black Knights, will judge the sins of the world!"

This person was audacious. If Schneizel held any superstitious beliefs he would have said the masked terrorist was a phantom. It was impossible, and a mere coincidence. There was no way that Lulu lived. He would have known. It was all just wishful thinking. Still, the similarities of speech, and likeness to the variation of cops and robbers Lulu loved to play in the courtyard was indeed haunting.

It was Kanon who took the remote out of his hands hours later. Schneizel missed his afternoon appointments, locked up in the study of his newly built Avalon. His normally composed features remained ashen. Those pastel eyes, on the other hand, were bloodshot. Slightly shaking, Schneizel ran his right hand through his hair, muttering a dishonest apology for concerning his mate.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Kanon said, not realizing the gravity of that statement.

"If only such things existed." Schneizel mused, lifting himself up onto dead legs. The feeling of pins and needles shot through the extremities as he stood. "These last seven years it's as if I were a corpse pretending to be alive. [3]" He clutched the fabric over his beating heart. Had it always been beating? Of course. It was just never noticed. "Only a ghost could change that."

A/N:

Footnotes:

[1] Reference to flashback in chapter 13, CM

[2] Quote from the sonnet. I seriously wanted to add the whole thing. I adore it.

[3] Reference to R1 episode 7, when Lelouch is arguing with C.C.

Fun fact/foreshadowing (because I love it) Anyone notice that the only time Schneizel called Lulu "Lelouch" was when he was scary mad in chapter 7(?), CM