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“Is it true that you're going to make your debut today?” Lelouch's voice cut the quietness of the bedroom where Schneizel was getting dressed up.
The young man, who was tying his imperial cravat in front of his full-length mirror, stopped himself and looked at the reflection of his little brother, hugging a gigantic plush toy, settled on his bed.
“It is.” And his heart tightened at the defeated pout on the boy's face.
“But weren't you supposed to graduate first? Cornelia graduated from highschool and finished her military formation before making her debut. But you started a course at university and you're far from graduating…”
Indeed, unlike Cornelia, he had chosen the slower way. A path to knowledge took time. Forging the right advisor for the future Emperor demanded resources and patience, and Schneizel possessed both, moved by a desire to not let the Empire crumble under the mediocrity of the rightful heir.
“Father has required my presence in political matters, and the sooner the better, or so he said.”
Schneizel fetched the pin that would keep his cravat tidy and right-looking, then stared at the way he could put it, as it was his first time doing this.
“But uni—”
He glanced at the reflection again. “My course will be longer than most. Odysseus went not to university, and Cornelia chose a short path that will lead her to the top of the military. I preferred an education in political sciences, so that I can make educated decisions for our people. But the Empire can not afford to wait for as long as I'll need to complete my studies, so my debut, and career beginning, are happening earlier than anticipated.”
The kid's grip on his plush toy tightened, his face half hidden against it, as if trying to make his pout invisible. A sigh escaped Schneizel as he came closer and gently stroked his brother's back, both to coax his head up and reassure him.
“I'm not disappearing, I'll still make time for our chess matches.”
Lelouch's eyes, big and shimmering with hope he tried his best to conceal by looking away, peaked from behind the stuffed toy.
“Will you?”
Schneizel offered him a soft — however calculated — smile. “Of course.” His hand shifted from the boy's back to his hair he ruffled gently. “Who else will teach you new strategies if not me? Clovis? Odysseus?”
The child cracked a laugh, before shaking his head. “Of course it's you…” The warmth in his voice didn't go unnoticed and Schneizel wished he had grown closed off enough for it to not reach his chest — alas it wrapped him whole, like a soft blanket too heavy to go away by itself, too comfortable to let go of.
I'll have to work on that.
Schneizel straightened, flattened his clothes before they could crumple, and finished adjusting his cravat in front of the mirror. Lelouch shifted just slightly from his plushie, as if trying to look at something — him, if he had to guess.
“Why aren't you wearing your ribbon?” The boy asked, a well of questions today it seemed.
The young man took his new jacket off its hanger — a long ceremonial purple coat with golden lining and a high collar kissing the cravat wrapped around his neck — and put it on, adjusting the rigid collar to his liking.
“Ah…I can't use the ribbon with the cravat. And this specific attire expects a cravat. It's…more proper for a man my age, let's say.”
Lelouch pouted. Ah, really. This boy's mood was so easy to affect…
“But you love that ribbon…”
His eyes checked on the ribbon he had left on his dressing table. Purple, made of soft velvet, a little worn out in the middle, where the bow knot was usually tied. He had had it for over a decade and half now… Maybe it was time for it to find a new home, as chances were he wouldn't wear it anymore. Spinning around with the ribbon in hand, he sat by his brother's side, wrapped the ribbon around his collar and tied it into a bow, while Lelouch was staring at him, lips parting and eyes wide.
“There. Now I can see it on the person I love the most.”
Lelouch blinked, looked down at the ribbon, then back at Schneizel before throwing himself in his arms, holding him at the waist. His face nestled against his older brother's chest, who didn't recoil despite the fact it might crumple his shirt. Instead, Schneizel gave back the hug, his chin resting atop Lelouch's head, and his hand stroking his back at a slow pace, as if they were in a bubble suspended over the flow of time. And Schneizel, for a second, wished time would stop for them, that they'd remain as such forever — just two brothers, hugging and enjoying a moment together, a last moment of simplicity, of complicity, before the world around them would shift to a more complicated state. A world of politics, of schemes, of dangers Schneizel must protect his brother from, so that his eyes could rival the early night sky's beauty and steal its stars, for his gaze to never tarnish.