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“C.C., have you ever been married?”
C.C. looks up at Lelouch with dull golden eyes, barely startled by the question. Lelouch is always inquiring about her past life, claiming that he shouldn’t be baring his every secret to her while she remains an enigma.
Lelouch’s eyes are focused on the papers strewn over the table, his line of vision actively avoiding the entire area around her. He's straight ahead of her, seating at the head of the table, like the emperor he is. It strecthes between them in rich mahogany glory, and C.C. feels herself irked by the distance it creates. However, the room has tall windows, displaying a distractingly dazzling view of the city below. Bright strokes of light are welcomed through and paint the room clean, shining on his pristine dressing gown, its burgundy fabric glowing. She had denied him giving her a similar, always feeling more comfortable in the clothes she has had for lifetime after lifetime. Lelouch had accepted it, albeit begrudgingly. Perhaps taking the gifts would earn her less inquiring.
She doesn't mind though, deep down. There is something easy about speaking with him, despite everything they have been through. The need to hide had evaporated long ago, in a way that she had almost forgot that it had existed in the first place.
The cheese from the pizza she is eating strings from her lips and she quickly swallows it before replying. “Why the sudden interest?” she counters, watching him.
Lelouch lifts a shoulder, attempting to appear nonchalant. “I was curious. You have lived for more than ten lifetimes.” He keeps writing, but the crown of his head points towards her, looking oddly expectant.
Her mouth curves slyly. “Should I be expecting a proposal soon?”
Lelouch’s pen twists in its scrawl. C.C. suppresses a smile. He finally glances at her, violet eyes annoyed. “No,” he replies firmly, with the tone of someone who had just been asked the daftest question in the world. “Why is it when I take any interest in you, you always have to be so difficult?”
“It’s because you have an ulterior motive,” she says lightly. “You always do.”
Lelouch shakes his head and mutters under his breath, no doubt cursing her existence, but she just takes another bite of her pizza. It's a good restaurant. She quickly makes a mental note of it before looking up at Lelouch again. “So?” she presses on. “Why do you want to know?”
Lelouch has returned to surverying his paperwork, although appearing much more invested than he was before. “No reason. I just don’t want to take you anywhere and find out you have already taken your vows somewhere in another lifetime.” He makes it sound like it's a very practical thing to think, but he has always been a master of making things sound more important than they may actually be. She finds herself amused by the farce though.
“Are you planning on marrying me off? Who am I, your daughter? Here I thought I was more of an equal to you.”
He tuts his tongue. "You are."
"I expect you have a ring prepared then?"
Lelouch rolls his eyes and tosses his pen down. Her smile grows. “C.C.,” he grumbles, waving his hand in an impatient manner. “Forget I asked.”
C.C. watches him for a moment, head tilted in thought. She then explains, “You do realize I come from a time where sexual relations outside of marriage were considered taboo?”
He looks up at her, eyebrows furrowed in a perplexed way. “Are you telling me you married people for sex?”
She wants to laugh at how presumptuous his response was, but she decides to play with him some more. “Would you rather be partners with a whore?” Lelouch chokes on the sip he was taking from his teacup, and she hides her amusement. He stares at her, still baffled.
“So you did?”
C.C. shakes her head. “No.” She pauses, and her eyes wander over to the view of the clear sky outside, some strange wistfulness taking hold of her. “I do not know if I would have," she says finally. "Even things like love and settling down . . . They felt like luxuries. Perhaps . . .” She cuts off. It's a useless word. The ideas had never really occurred to her before anyways. There hadn't been time or room for such thoughts. She was more of a nomad, granting wishes to those she encountered, roaming and roaming with no real home to go to. “It was a long time ago,” she dismisses quickly, reaching for another slice of pizza, only to find the box empty. She frowns and falls back into her chair, lips pursing in disappointment. She looks up at Lelouch, expecting him to sense her distress.
But Lelouch’s eyes are soft now, studying her, lips quirking up. She raises a brow. “Who would have thought?" he replies to her wordless prompt. "The witch being a wife.”
“I wasn’t.” She bats her eyelashes prettily at him. “But I am not entirely opposed to the thought.”
Lelouch’s lips twist into a disgusted sneer and she chuckles. “Considering your history with women, I’m really all you’ve got, Lelouch. Do not take me for granted.”
A shadow passes over his face, before disappearing behind an annoyed expression. “There is always divorce, C.C.” He sighs and scans the paperwork again, pen left to the side, one hand on the papers. The other remains empty, lingering with an invitation that she might be imagining.
Her hand finds his, and he doesn’t bat it away; rather, he turns his hand over to grasps hers properly. Their fingers slow together perfectly. Her lips tip up in a small, genuine smile, content at the feeling of his hand in hers, warmth suddenly prominent in every thread of her being. This feeling is something truly remarkable, and she wonders if this is why people decide to dash to the altar.
The weight to her theory strengthens at the sight of the same smile on Lelouch's face.
“Empress C.C. has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”