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Aaaahhh sorry to request again, and feel free to ignore it or toss it in the very bottom of your requests pile, but do you have any grief headcanons for Clavis and Chev as part of your series? Thank you so much and keep up the sterling work!

This is the original ask for this series of reactions:

I did one for the new princes, here.

And then received another ask for the same prompt with Jin/ Luke, here.

And now here is Clavis and Chevalier

TW: Grief / Death (writing after the cut)

Clavis Lelouch

You had his attention from the moment he saw you. He watched every reaction of yours to each joke he made, every sly comment that slid from his lips like an oil slick. He saw the way you covered your mouth with your hand, hiding a smile he knew would be deadly if directed at him in full force. In meeting after meeting he listened to his brothers, spoke up, throwing his words into the ring as he always did, casually, breezily. But where he once did it to get a rile out of them, he now spoke to see what pleasure he could summon from you. Would it be a stifled laugh, a flash of merriment in your bright eyes, or would you look across the room and hold not only his gaze, but the strings of his heart as well?

He turned up like a bad penny, you would joke, teasing him. When you left your room, he was casually by your door, tossing an apple in the air, story cocked and loaded. When you left your lessons, mind spinning with facts and figures, he was there and he just so happened to be walking where you had to go, regaling you with tales of the palace, the staff and when you were lucky, the other princes. When you were tired and worn, he was there to lift your spirits. When you were happy, he smiled and shared in your joy. The other princes rolled their eyes at him but not you. You had a smile, bright as sunflowers, sweet as honeycomb every time you spotted him. 

When you walked together, you touched his arm and his heart sang your name, over and over. You laughed at his jokes and it was birdsong to his ears. After one prank gone wrong, you removed bits and pieces of twigs from his soft hair and all he saw was the sunrise of your face. All he felt was the brush of your fingers on his scalp. And he was happy.

He walks the garden path, bouquet of black-eyed Susans in his hand, but it feels as if his feet don’t touch the ground. Because last night, under the cover of the gazebo during a sudden downpour of soft, summer rain, he kissed you and you kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his waist, his heart dropping into your hands. He can still taste your raspberry lips, sweet and tart and lingering. He spots the gazebo and his pace quickens, eager to reunite, but then his feet slow, everything slows, as he spots the body lying prone across the gazebo steps.

His feet carry him forward until he is beside you. He sinks to his knees, for once at a loss, no words, no thoughts, nothing at all except a blank void in his mind as his heart begins raging in his chest, fury stealing his breath. His shaking hand reaches down, gently pulling a bit of twig from your hair, your soft, beautiful hair. He lays the black-eyed Susans against your motionless body and he weeps. The tears of a clown were never as heartbreaking as this.

Chevalier Michel

He took notice of you the way one would a fly buzzing around a dining room table. Annoyance. Perhaps unavoidable. Flies are drawn to the scent of meat and Rhodolite requires a Belle to choose its king. But he knew it would be him. You were a sidenote, a formality to be crossed off a list and forgotten.

He found you in the library, so lost in a book you did not hear him enter. Whatever you were reading had sunk its hooks into your mind, drawn you so deeply into story that even his footsteps towards you were ignored. His blue eyes narrowed at the offense and he snapped at you, words clipped and fully intent on startling you.

What he got instead were cheeks flushed with emotion, eyes luminous with unshed tears. You were embarrassed at being caught in such a state but once you found out the book you were reading was his, you couldn’t hold back your excitement. He was bombarded with earnestness, with sincerity, with so much warm emotion flowing freely from you that he was thrown off-kilter. For every curt response, you had more explanations, more questions, more honesty. You were the small dandelion, ignoring the cracked stone around it, blossoming in the face of his cold, grave adversity. 

You began invading the corners of his mind. He would read something and wonder what you would think of it. He would listen in on your conversations with the others at dinner, before the start of a meeting, his expression never changing but his mind a sponge, soaking in your dulcet voice. He learned you loved romance and epic tales of dashing heroes and heroines. Your favorite flavor was caramel. To you, stormy nights were best passed with a candle, a blanket, and a book.

This would not do. He could not have all the things he held in his mind colored by the remembrance of your laughter, the shape of your smile. He would have to do something about this, as ignoring it was becoming as effective as a tiger ignoring a thorn in its paw.

He knows you take a stroll through the palace gardens at sunset, has heard you wax poetic about the colors of the sky and the beauty of the clouds. He plans on confronting you, asking you how long much longer you will need before you choose him to rule so that you can finally leave and take the distraction of your warmth and your luminous eyes with you. 

And if….if….the conversation takes longer and he is forced to spend time with you in the rose-scented garden, under a rose-colored sky, then so be it. So be it.

Then he spots you, curled up on the dirt path next to the lavender, your body as still as the illustrations in your favorite books. His steps never slow. They are resigned to the what is about to be revealed to him. Chevalier kneels down in one perfectly controlled motion, his hand lifting your wrist. It is the first time he has ever touched you. 

There is no pulse under the delicate skin. Slowly he places your hand back by your side and stands. The quicksand of regret pours in, filling up the small hole you had inadvertently chiseled into the armored walls of his heart. Now the barricade is back in place. The steel as thick as ever. He will not come close to letting anyone in again. He turns on his heel, heading back to the palace, leaving your body on the path, bathed in sunset’s fading light.

*

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @atelier-maroron