Author's Note: Yeah, so this is a one-shot of C.C. and Lelouch. You know the drill, I don't own Code Geass.

I was actually thinking of making this into a little chapter series thingy, but to tell you the truth, I can't think up of a story for it. I just wanted to capture this in one chapter, but if I can think up of anything, I might add some more chapters on (probably not, though). Reviews are luffed! ;3

By the way, for people reading my other story, Britannia's Elementary Primer...yeah...it's put on hiatus for now until I can gather my plot. Thanks for reading it, guys; you are the best, and I won't fail you (hopefully)! Anywho, enjoy. =3

She watched as they screamed, shrieked, and yelled for her life's end, her eyes hazy with smoke and unshed tears. "Witch," they screamed, "the devil's mistress."

"Die."

How she wished she could.

Green hair swirled madly around in the sweltering air, lashing out against the wooden frame and redden flames, like Medusa with her hair of snakes, ready to strike out, ready to freeze with a single glare. But C.C.'s glare was not filled with hatred, and it could not turn to stone those who dared gaze into it. However, no one knew because no one dared gaze.

Hungry eyes, frenzied with fear and blood lust, stared at the fire that threatened to engulf the petite form of a battered girl and eagerly entreated it to continue. The wind coaxed the embers to blaze, the fire to spout heavenward and cleanse her soul of wickedness...or so they thought.

C.C. struggled at the ironclad chains that bound her hands and whipped her head this way and that as the pain came on, terrible and burning, burning into her flesh and boiling away her blood. Inaudible screams escaped her lips as her throat dried with the onslaught of unbearable heat. The pain never lasted, though, only for a few excruciating moments before a cloud of darkness descended upon her and lifted her away from the mortal world. Of course, that never lasted either.

Her eyes had dried long ago; her tears evaporated and remained unshed. How she wished to escape, to take away the coldness that forever plagued her heart.

She was dying.

Again.

And again forever until she found that one person who could grant her one wish for everlasting death.

And she knew. Poor witch, she knew.

She could feel it now, the heavy sleepiness that was dragging on her body, pulling her down into black unconsciousness. The pain had slowed, the flames also. Or was it just her?

C.C. blinked and stared down at the crowd through bleary, amber eyes. No one looked. No one cared. And so what? No one should.

...

Oh. Poor boy.

A pair of amethyst eyes stared back, full of fear and pity.

Did he care?

They were set in a very young and potentially handsome face, characterized by a tuft of black hair. He seemed sad.

If he did, it would be his undoing, C.C. would make sure of it.

They had already died, those beside her accused of the same wretched crime, and now their fires were dying as well. They had died crying for their children and husbands, and now it was C.C.'s turn, but she cried out for neither.

Three words graced the fiery air, unheard and unnoticed, but said anyways.

"My black prince." A smile - a rare, unsettling smile - finished her speech, and she was at peace.

Two lavender eyes watched two golden eyes close.

My Black Prince...

Black Prince...

Prince...

With the crowd dissipated and the night settled, it was silent in the little square. No mouse disturbed the quiet, no light illuminated the gray ground but the eerie moonlight by which, supposedly, gray witches casted their binding spells.

Lingering lights in nearby homes slowly disappeared as the night grew longer. Their inhabitants were happy, snuggled in warm beds alongside loved ones with the knowledge that another few witches had met their rightful graves. A husband and a wife fell to their nightly rituals; their children already in a pleasant slumber. A few streets away, an elderly man and woman had placed out flowers and cheap scents in an attempt to ward away the smell of smoke that always permeated the streets after a burning.

Otherwise, the town was relatively silent, that is, with the exception of a little boy.

He wandered the streets back to the place he had watched her die, feeling afraid, tired and most of all, fascinated. He was fascinated by her emerald locks, fascinated by her emotionless glare as she lay fettered and dying, fascinated by her piercing, honeyed eyes that called to them all life.

Strange, how a witch of death called forth the youth of life.

He rummaged through the ashes, his small fingers digging past the burned wood as he fervently searched. She was alive; he knew it, and though he did not know how, he could hear her calling to him.

Suddenly, he stopped, staring with wide eyes at the pale, limp hand he had struck upon.

Then, gradually, he reached forth, his thin fingers groping the empty air, and as he neared, he could have sworn he'd seen movement. 'How absurd,' he'd thought, but he did not stop. He wanted to know her, to see her...and most of all, to save her...

"Lelouch!" A shriek cut through the still air, and like that, he was saved. A black-haired woman careened around the corner. Her eyes were filled with anxiety, and cold sweat dotted her unblemished forehead. With a hand placed in awe against her mouth, she rushed forward and ripped him away. Like two star-crossed lovers, they were seperated.

The hand had fallen still again; day was coming on, but beneath the ash and rubble, she who had been scorned was very much alive.

C.C. watched from afar as he grew, not unlike an estranged mother. She watched silently with smiling eyes as he matured from a playful, foolish boy into an indifferent, almost detached, youth. She watched as the group of girls slowly expanded, following him to market and following him home. One day a red-head, the next a blonde, another day a girl with orange tresses. But he, Lelouch, neither sought nor rejected love.

'What a strange boy,' she had originally thought.

He had a sister too, a sweet, little girl with a cheery disposition who was secretly harboring a heavy heart. She, who could neither see nor walk, had impeccable instincts as C.C. had witnessed one lazy, humid afternoon...

"Nunnally, I have to go work now. Be careful, and do not allow any visitors. Mother is resting in the other room. I will be back before sunset."

He bustled about, making the room tidy for his absence while his sister sat motionless in a nearby chair. She was frowning, her hands folded neatly in her lap. With a sigh, she questioned innocently, "Brother, must you go? I never seem to see you anymore..."

Eyeing her warmly, he gently knelt beside her and caressed her hands. "Nunnally...with mother sick as she is, I must work to support this family."

Planting a fatherly kiss atop her head, he murmured, "I love you, Nunnally. After I come back, we can talk a bit, okay?"

Nunnally nodded her consent obediently, and Lelouch took his leave.

A cloaked woman watched as the young man left, only to be immediately accompanied by a green-eyed, orange-haired girl. He greeted her warmly, and before the door shut, C.C. silently slipped in.

"Brother?" Nunnally echoed. She had moved to the decaying, wooden table on which Lelouch had placed a chipped cup of light green tea. It was a small house with what seemed to be only two rooms, and currently, C.C. had entered the dining area. Pieces of wood and ashes littered the small hearth over which hung thin slices of pork and chicken. Nearby sat a basket of vegetables - cabbages, peppers, olives, and such. Other than that, the room was quite bare.

C.C. raised an eyebrow curiously at the girl's intuition but remained silent.

"Brother?" Nunnally called again. Biting her bottom lip, she fell quiet, and her brow furrowed in thought. Then, "Please, take anything you want, but don't hurt my mother. We don't have much but-"

"Rest assured, Nunnally, I am not a thief." C.C.'s cool voice rang clearly throughout the dingy hovel, and at the sound, Nunnally immediately relaxed. A bright smile washed over her smooth features.

"Oh! You must be one of Brother's female friends! He never brings anybody home to meet me; I think it is because he is embarressed..." Her voice fell a little at the notion but picked up again in mirth when she heard C.C. shuffle closer. "But I suppose that is beside the point. Please, sit down!"

She scooted to the side in her chair and attempted to pull a nearby stool towards the table. In her condition, it was a struggle, so C.C. relieved her of the duty and pulled the chair over herself. As C.C. took a seat, Nunnally pushed the cup of tea towards her. "I am really sorry that I cannot make you a new cup of tea, but I did not drink out of this one yet, so please, take it."

She smiled brightly at C.C. who seemed quite unaffected by the girl's generosity. "Thank you," she murmured, but she made no indication of drinking.

Nunnally sensed her reluctance and spoke again. "Well, it seems Brother has already told you of my name. Can I ask for yours?" She leaned forward eagerly.

C.C. pulled the hood of her cloak back, and green hair cascaded down her shoulders. "C.C.," she answered. "I am afraid I am in a hurry, Nunna-"

"Oh, of course...I suppose you were only here to see Brother..." She smiled again but less cheerfully than before. "...C.C.? What a strange name you have...to only go by your initials..."

The girl mused over the concept for a few seconds before speaking again. She began fidgeting with her fingers as she turned her head down. "Miss C.C....if you are to wed my brother...please, do not take him from us..."

Tears pricked the young girl's eyes as she bit harder on her lower lip. C.C. stared impassively at Nunnally and made no comment to either disprove nor prove her allegation, so naturally, Nunnally assumed she had made the correct assumption. After all, why else would a girl come into their home when her brother was absent?

"He is all we have..."

C.C. cocked her head to one side and took a sip of the lukewarm tea. Was she supposed to pity her? Grant her wish? No, she couldn't; after all, she had her own wish. Setting the cup down, she placed her hand within her lap and waited for Nunnally's sobs to die down.

"I-" Nunnally gave a light, surprised gasp as arms wrapped around her shoulders in a hug. It was not a warm hug nor a fake hug like the one enemies must give each other in public. No, but it connected the two girls who were both trapped, one helpless and the other helpless to die. Perhaps Nunnally sensed it, the cold way in which C.C. brought her to her chest or the dispassionate effort by which she held the crippled girl. That one embrace, so fleeting, transferred between the two years of sadness, and as Nunnally received the brunt of this attack, her forlornness reached a peak and burst. Unrestrained tears fell in streams down her cheeks as her grip upon the elder girl's shoulders tightened, and she wept out all the sorrows and frustrations her brother refused to acknowledge.

C.C. pushed away the useless memory as Lelouch emerged from the neatly-kept hutch he shared with the two important women in his life and walked away to market.

Tucking a few loose green strands behind her ear, C.C. followed closely behind.

One day, Lelouch simply disappeared. His cabin fell into disuse for a few months before being bought up by a poor couple in search of a home in which to raise a small family. C.C. stopped expecting to see him at market or at the butcher's shop where he had worked. Gossip over his mysterious departure escalated a week after he left; supposedly, he was a Prince.

"Wha-! Lulu? A prince?" The green-eyed girl threw on an indignant face as she walked alongside the two others that had chased after Lelouch.

"Ai-ya! Shirley! Don't be so loud!" reprimanded the one with flaxen hair as the three strolled down the bustling street. Stalls littered the sides, their vendors thrusting their products forward in an attempt to get them sold. "Fish! Get yer fish!" "Fresh fruits, fresh fruits for a low price!" "Beautiful jewelry for the beautiful ladies!"

C.C. roughly brushed past these grubby men trying to barter their goods and continued following the three girls, unbeknownest to them.

"W-Well, m-maybe it's all j-just a mistake..." Kallen uttered before giving a small cough.

C.C. smirked; the girl wasn't so feeble when she forced herself upon Lelouch.

"Nope, no mistake. I saw him; he was dressed in white silk and such fit for a King!" Heaving a dramatic sigh, Milly asked, "Do you think he'll pay attention to us now that he is so rich and famous?"

Shirley pouted, "He'd better, Milly!"

C.C. never did hear the end to their conversation. A hand clamped down upon her shoulder, and as she calmly swiveled her head about to see her captor, a booming voice cried, "Witch."

C.C. passively scanned the hateful crowd with her cat-like eyes, eyes like Medusa - cold and calculating. But C.C.'s stare was not filled with hatred, and they could not turn to stone those who dared gaze into them. However, no one knew because no one dared gaze.

The wood crackled, and the hay snapped as the fire blazed about her feet, uncontrollably flaming towards the darkening sky within just a few minutes.

"Witch," they screamed, "the devil's mistress."

"Die."

How she wished she could, and this time...

She turned her gaze up and lingered upon a raven-haired youth whose shocked eyes were locked upon her own. They stared at her with horror as though he wanted to look away but could not. His lips were parted as though he were about to spill forth with words, but no sounds came from them.

Beside him on their elegant thrones sat his two brothers, both his elder and both with pale, blond hair that fell to the cheek. They seemed disinterested and, with heads turned, talked together in amused whispers. How out-of-place Lelouch looked.

The ghost of a smile graced her pale, pink lips as the fire began eating away her limbs. It melted her flesh but not her heart and boiled her blood but not her soul (if she even had one). She tugged half-heartedly at the chains that bound her hands to the wooden stake and parted her lips to scream, but no scream came. The heat had dried her throat, and all she could utter was a weak wheeze.

Pain pierced her body as once more, she died.

My Black Prince

Two lavender eyes watched two golden eyes close.

A lithe figure fell down on his knees into the ash. The crowd had gone long ago including his brothers; all he had to do was make a simple lie, and he was allowed his privacy. His mind was whirling; he didn't know what to think. All these years, and this girl...she appeared before him again? Surely, it could not be the same person? Apprehension gripped him as he dug through the rubble. This woman had to be dead. She was burned in front of all to see! She had to be-

His breath hitched in his throat as his hand touched upon cool skin. Not ash, but flesh, flesh of one who was very much alive. Lelouch stumbled back on his hands in surprise as the hand flinched at his touch. He watched it critically, but it did not move again.

With an exasperated sigh and a shake of his head, Lelouch crept forward once more. Who was she? How could she be alive? Was she alive? Was his mind playing tricks on him? His mother had told him the girl was a dream, but...

Tentatively, Lelouch brushed aside the ash on the girl, revealing silky, green locks of hair, ashen skin...closed eyes...a scar just beneath her left breast...

No, she wasn't a dream. She was a nightmare.

Averting his eyes, Lelouch unclasped the black cloak around his neck and covered her naked body. As he did so, he felt her hot breath on his bare hand; she seemed to be in but a deep sleep.

Lelouch started when he heard her mutter something. With an unsure grimace, he leaned closer. "What?" he asked, turning his ear to her mouth.

"...My black prince...you are finally here..."

A strange shudder ran down his spine, but he ignored it. Worming his slender arms beneath her cool body, he picked her up, and still, she slept.

Sighing again, he stared at her face which seemed so peaceful unlike a few moments before when it was contorted in agony. "You are a witch," he murmured, and at saying that, he seemed to relax slightly.

Lelouch pivoted on his right foot and started away from the square.

"If you are a witch, then I'll become a warlock."