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wistfulwanderingone · 23 days ago

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"Like a Blade Through Silk"

- Clavis Lelouch & Cassandra Bellerose (OC)

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Clavis Lelouch, Yves Kloss, Licht Klein, Cassandra Bellerose (OC)

Pairing: Clavis Lelouch x Cassandra OC

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Slow Burn

Word Count: ~5700

Summary:

A rain-drenched pavilion. A woman undone.

A smile that slides in like a blade through silk.

For Clavis Lelouch, every encounter is a game—until one cuts deeper than he meant to let it.

HUGE, worshipful shout out to @missaengg

who helped me-- no what's more than helped? --Saved me, rescued me, dived into the depths of my stupid, frustrated, ridiculous brain and gave me CPR and helped me to make this fic become what it is! THANK YOU @missaengg !! You are a godsend!! And I am sorry for not being better at words and actions of gratitude!

Clavis had always prided himself on his ability to read a room—or, in this case, a storm.

He had seen it coming long before the first raindrop ever kissed the earth. The clouds had gathered thick and heavy on the horizon, bruised purple and deep slate, curling over the palace grounds like a slow-approaching beast. The air had been charged with foreboding all afternoon—thick, pressing, electric—a slithering kind of weight that settled against the skin, warning of impending chaos.

And Clavis thrived in chaos.

Which was why he had been nowhere near the main courtyard when the sky finally split open.

Lightning ripped jagged veins through the heavens, illuminating the palace grounds in stark flashes of white and gold, while thunder roared so deeply it seemed to rattle the very bones of the palace itself. The first fat droplets of rain were a mere warning—then, all at once, the sky came down in sheets, a deluge so fierce it swallowed the world whole, turning polished stone paths into gleaming rivers.

Not that he particularly minded getting wet—he had, after all, orchestrated enough water-based pranks in his lifetime to accept his fair share of damp misfortunes. But spending the rest of the evening with his boots squelching beneath him like some miserable, waterlogged fool? Absolutely not.

And so, with laughter spilling from his lips, he ran.

The downpour lashed against him, sharp and biting, soaking through the layers of his clothes with wicked efficiency. He darted between panicked courtiers rushing toward the palace, weaving through the chaos with practiced ease.

He laughed. Those poor noble fools. The palace was too far. But just beyond the gardens stood a small, half-forgotten pavilion. Perfect.

He dove beneath the shelter of its ivy-wrapped beams, water streaming from his sleeves as he shook out his coat with a theatrical flick.

Except—he wasn’t alone.

At the far end of the structure, her back turned to him, stood Lady Cassandra Bellerose. Rain clung to her like a silken veil, glistening in the dim light. Her fingers twisted the soaked fabric of her gown, wringing out the excess water—a futile attempt against the downpour that had claimed her as its own. Drenched and disheveled, she looked like something out of a dream—or perhaps, a storm herself.

Clavis’ body stilled, as if the very air around him had thickened, anchoring him in place. His mind flickered back to the secret garden, to the moment he had stumbled upon her dancing barefoot in the golden light, lost in something wild and weightless. That had been a revelation—Cassandra, unbound. A fleeting enchantment slipping through his fingers like a dream—vanishing before he could even register the wonder of it.

But this? Somehow this was different.

The elegant, poised, and perfectly noble woman he had come to know—the one who, perhaps flushed at his teasing, but never fully faltered, who maintained a practiced grace no matter how thoroughly he tried to shake her, and who was secretly a butterfly enchantress—had been neatly undone by the elements.

Her typically pristine updo had unraveled, loose strands curling against the pale column of her neck—soft, unguarded. The gentle pink of her gown had darkened where the rain had kissed it, wet fabric clinging, sculpting itself to her form. It gathered in delicate folds at her waist, slipped over the curve of her hips, whispered against the length of her legs—

Clavis tilted his head, curiosity glimmering at the edges of his mind. There was something almost…pure about the way she stood there, unaware, unshielded. Something real. Something raw.

His lips curved before he even realized it.

Ah. Intriguing.

Because this time, there was no golden light. No warm, idyllic fantasy where she twirled untouched by the world. No—this time, she wasn’t some untouchable butterfly, flitting beyond his reach. This time, the storm had found her, swallowed her whole, and claimed her as its own. And this time, he was caught in it with her.

Rain streaked down his skin, curling into his lashes, the cold biting deep, stripping away the polished veneer of the gentleman-prince he pretended to be.

The same cold he’d learned long ago how to bury beneath charm and laughter—because if you smiled brightly enough, no one ever asked what shadows lurked beneath.

He wasn’t sure which of them was the more vulnerable.

All around the pavilion, the rain continued its relentless assault, hammering against the stone path, pooling in small, rippling puddles along the garden’s edge. The scent of wet earth and dewy flowers filled the air, mingling with something softer—the lingering traces of magnolias and peaches, clinging to the moist warmth of her skin.

Clavis leaned casually against one of the wooden beams, the picture of ease, idly wringing the rain from his jacket as his gaze lingered on her. Cassandra, still unaware of his presence, exhaled a quiet sigh. Fingers combed through damp curls before she wrapped her arms around herself, as if bracing against the chill.

Then, finally—she turned.

Her eyes—that shade of green, the one he found himself unnervingly captivated by—widened the moment they found him. A sharp inhale, barely audible over the storm. She stiffened, startled realization flittering in her gaze, her spine drawn taut like a bowstring—before the gates slammed shut once more.

And there she was. The formal noble woman he had come to expect.

Of course she put the mask back on. How could she not? That’s what people do. You show them something fragile, something real—and the world eats you alive.

The ache in his chest was immediate, muted but unmistakable. A disappointment he shouldn’t feel—and yet, he did.

“Prince Clavis.” Her voice was steady, but her fingers betrayed her, twitching as she tucked a damp curl behind her ear—as if that single gesture could smooth her frazzled appearance. “I didn’t realize—” She exhaled, pressing her lips together, then tried again. “I didn’t expect anyone else to seek refuge here.”

He tilted his head, a smirk ghosting at the edge of his lips. “Ah, but what kind of fool would I be if I let such a perfect opportunity for a dramatic entrance pass me by?” He swept his arms out as if presenting himself in all his sopping, bedraggled glory. “Truly, Lady Bellerose, I expected applause. Perhaps even a swoon.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I must admit, I’m terribly disappointed.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed—not quite a glare, but something keen, measuring. Almost as if she were studying a puzzle whose edges didn’t quite align. A slow, deliberate assessment. She was trying to read him. And people didn’t do that. They weren’t supposed to.

“Truly, I think the storm has done a fine enough job humbling you, Your Highness.”

Her gaze drifted over him—slow, deliberate—trailing from his head to his toes, lingering just long enough to make Clavis aware of himself in a way he rarely was. He could feel the sodden strands of ashy-lavender hair clinging stubbornly to his temples, the water tracing slow rivulets onto his tunic. His sleeves, heavy with rain, clung uncomfortably to his forearms—a far cry from his usual polished presentation.

Then—just barely—her lips quirked.

“A drowned cat.”

Not a question. Not an insult. Just a quiet, amused observation.

And Clavis froze.

Not outwardly, of course. His smirk remained, his stance just as loose, just as effortless.

But somewhere beneath it—deep, imperceptible—his mind stuttered.

This wasn’t one of her usual flustered reactions—the ones he had come to expect and savor, the ones that made his games so enticing. No, this was different. Measured. Calculated.

Intentional.

And damn him if that didn’t unsettle something deep, something old and defensive and sharp-edged. The part of him that needed to keep the upper hand. The part that learned long ago that the moment people stopped reacting the way you expected was the moment they slipped the knife between your ribs.

His proper, darling little lady had never been the one to tease first.

Had she?

She had responded, certainly—sputtered at his antics, struggled to maintain her composure, met him with carefully chosen words and narrowed glances, the occasional spark of challenge—but this?

This was new.

Something slow and warm unfurled in his chest, like a cat stretching in the sun, tail curling in lazy delight.

Delicious.

Clavis tilted his head, tapping a lazy finger against his chin. “A drowned cat, you say?” He let out a dramatic sigh, gazing at her as though she had mortally wounded his pride. “And here I thought I looked rather charming with this windswept, tragic aesthetic.” He raked his fingers through his soaked hair, tousling it further with mocked elegance, as though he were some tormented poet caught in the throes of inspiration. “The brooding hero type, don’t you think? I suppose it takes a refined eye to appreciate it.” He waved a gracious hand, as though bestowing a royal pardon. “I forgive you, of course.”

Cassandra scoffed, arching a single delicate brow—a silent challenge, a flicker of something sharp beneath her poise. “Brooding heroes don’t run from the rain, Prince Clavis.”

“Ah, but my dear Lady Bellerose—have you never considered that perhaps the rain is running from me?” His voice dipped—low, playful, edged with velvet and mischief.

And then, he caught it—the slight crinkle at the corner of her big, luminous eyes, the way her teeth pressed into her lip, struggling to cage a giggle.

“And what of you, enchantress?” Clavis stepped closer, golden eyes alight. “Are you the heroine of this tale, or merely the damsel in distress?”

A sharper gust of wind answered, swirling into the pavilion’s shelter, a misting veil of icy droplets scattering over them both.

Cassandra flinched. Just barely.

But not enough to escape his attention.

A single tremor, a ripple of movement before she forced herself still—as though sheer will alone could erase the betrayal of her body. She held herself with all the grace of a noblewoman—poised, unyielding, careful.

But there it was, quiet and undeniable.

Goosebumps, blooming along her bare skin. Fingers curling just a fraction tighter around her arms.

She was cold.

His smirk faltered—for the briefest of moments.

It would be so easy to laugh it off. Tease her, draw attention to it, turn her discomfort into another round of their game. That’s what he usually did. Keep it light. Keep it safe. Keep the upper hand.

With an easy, fluid motion, he shrugged off his coat. The fabric was still cool from the rain, but thick—far warmer than the silk clinging to her skin, far better suited to shield her from the storm’s lingering bite. A sharp flick sent droplets scattering before he stepped toward her.

“Put this on, my lady.” His voice was casual, almost lazy—just another game, another flourish of charm. But beneath it...he would make sure the little enchantress was warm. “As a gentleman I cannot let you shiver in the cold.”

Cassandra stilled.

He expected resistance—a polite refusal, a haughty tilt of her chin, some noblewoman’s nonsense about propriety. The usual huff.

But instead—

She smiled.

Then, without a word, she turned her back to him, slipping her arms into the sleeves as if they had always belonged to her. Graceful. Thoughtless. The way a woman might accept a lover’s hand in a dance. The way she might allow herself to surrender, just for a moment.

Once the fabric settled over her shoulders, once its lingering warmth wrapped around her—she turned back to face him. Her emerald eyes caught the light, framed by damp curls clinging to her cheeks. And then—she smiled up at him through dark rain-kissed lashes, a smile that slipped past careful masks and into something unguarded.

“Thank you, Clavis.”

His name. No title. No pretense.

And for one foolish, dangerous second, it felt like a knife slipping between his ribs—but not the kind meant to kill.

She hadn't hesitated. Hadn’t braced for a trick. Hadn’t met his gesture with skepticism, calculation, or doubt.

Not like most people did. Not like they should.

She had simply accepted.

She trusted him.

The realization struck sharper than it should have.

She isn’t just tolerating me.

She’s…comfortable.

And that—

That was...unexpected. Different. Strange.

The thought felt…wrong. Not in a bad way, but in a way he wasn’t sure how to hold. The thought should amuse him—delight him, even. Another game. Easy prey. An inevitable victory.

Only, it didn’t.

Because trust had never come without a price before. He'd spent too long learning that love, loyalty, kindness—those things could be twisted, tested, broken.

He should be cold, after handing his coat to her…but he wasn’t. If anything—he felt warmer than before.

Ridiculous.

He smirked. Reflexive. A mask worn so well, he almost believed it himself.

Much easier to play the fool than wonder why she hadn't hesitated. Why she hadn’t flinched.

It didn’t mean anything.

And yet—

She still gazed at him, wrapped in his warmth—

And something flickered again.

Too brief to name.

Too real to ignore.

Clavis forced out a chuckle, stepping back as if to give her space. “And you called me a cat.” His voice was smooth, teasing, sliding easily back into place. A shield. “You’re the one curling up in borrowed warmth.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. Just slightly.

And Clavis Lelouch—for once in his life—pretended not to notice.

Because if he noticed too much, he'd have to question why it mattered. Why that warmth lingered like a thread he couldn’t quite untangle.

Instead he exhaled a long, satisfied sigh, stretching leisurely as he leaned back against one of the wooden beams, letting the weight of the storm settle around them.

“I hope you are well aware,” he said airily, flicking a droplet from his sleeve, “that this officially makes you indebted to me.”

Cassandra, nestled in his coat, let out a delicate snort. “For lending me your coat? I thought this was part of your gentleman code.”

“Oh, no, no, dearie.” Clavis pressed a hand dramatically to his chest, golden eyes half-lidded with exaggerated solemnity. “You owe me for saving your life. Had I not been here, you surely would have perished from the cold.”

She huffed, shifting slightly, drawing his coat tighter around herself. “Yes. That sounds accurate.” The sarcasm was soft, effortless—something warm beneath the cold storm air.

“I accept compensation in the form of elaborate gifts or public displays of gratitude,” he mused, grinning down at her.

Cassandra exhaled, tilting her head in mock consideration. “Shall I compose a ballad in your honor?”

Clavis blinked.

A pause. Short, but just long enough for the moment to settle.

Oh.

He should be amused. He should laugh, tease her, throw back something effortlessly clever.

But instead, something simmered beneath the surface. Something thrilling.

She wasn’t just enduring his antics. No flustered stammering, no wary sidestepping. Her own sharp, effortless wit was meeting his own.

She wasn’t running. She wasn’t recoiling.

She was right there, teasing him back, daring him to keep up.

Was it the storm? The way the rain had drenched her, washing away whatever hesitations had once clung to her like a veil? Like a painting stripped of a layer, revealing something truer underneath—bold, unafraid, striking.

There was nothing quite so invigorating as a partner in mischief, someone who didn’t just react, but enjoyed the dance with him.

And oh, how he adored it!

But somewhere deep beneath the rush of it, something else stirred. A warning. He’d known what happened when people got too close, when they stopped playing by the rules. And Cassandra Bellerose—standing there wrapped in his coat, smiling like she belonged there—was beginning to look dangerously close.

His gaze glimmered, assessing, before a slow, indulgent grin curled at the edges of his lips. “Well, now.” His voice dipped, lazy, thoughtful. “I would certainly like to hear that.”

Cassandra laughed, shaking her head. Amusement lingering on her lips.

The storm pressed against the pavilion, wind curling around the wooden beams, rain streaking the lantern light. But here—here was stillness. A pocket of warmth carved out of the chaos.

She was settling into it. Into him.

Not in the way others did—tiptoeing, wary, unsure how to keep up. No, she was stepping right into his rhythm, into his game, slipping into the moment like it was second nature.

And he liked it.

More than he should.

His coat dwarfed her, the fabric swallowing her frame, its high collar brushing against her jaw. Damp curls clung to her skin, darkened by the rain, softened by the lantern’s glow. For a fleeting second, his gaze caught there—on the way the light traced the curve of her cheekbone, lingered over the delicate beauty mark beneath her eye, on the way the storm had left her looking…

Softer.

Clearer.

Like the storm had washed something away, leaving behind someone bolder, sharper—more her.

The thought curled at the edges of his mind, too undefined to name, too fleeting to hold.

And for a single, foolish moment, he thought—

What would it be like, if she always looked at me like this? Unarmored. Unafraid.

No.

Absolutely not.

So he let it go.

“So…” he finally broke the silence, tilting his head at her. “How would this ballad of mine go? Do tell.”

Cassandra blinked, drawing her gaze from the storm—and into his.“What?” Her voice was soft, as if she had been daydreaming.

“The ballad, daydreamer.” His grin widened, utterly insufferable. “You offered to compose one in my honor, did you not?” He swept a hand through the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra, already basking in the imagined glory of her unwritten song. “A truly noble gesture. I assume it will begin with my valor, my charm, my heroic—”

“It will be a riveting account of how, as a boy, you attempted to teach a goose how to bow and instead, created the kingdom's first documented goose uprising,” Cassandra interjected smoothly.

Clavis barked out a laugh. “Ah! Now that is slander.”

“A factual recounting, Your Highness.”

He tilted his head, bemusement shimmering across his face before feigning suspicion. “Wait. I don’t recall telling you that story.”

Cassandra’s lips twitched, gaze flickering toward the storm. “…Yves.”

Clavis groaned, throwing his head back against the wooden post. “Of course. That little prissy pink traitor.”

Cassandra hummed, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “You know,” she mused, “for someone who makes a game of collecting other people’s secrets, you seem rather sensitive about your own.”

Clavis felt her eyes on him. Appraising, despite their mirth.

A dangerous little observer, this one. The kind of person who might notice things he didn’t want noticed.

“A tragic flaw of mine,” he admitted breezily. “A man must maintain some mystery.”

She cocked her head. Still studying him.

"Do you actually like music?" Cassandra asked casually.

But there was something too careful in the way she asked it. Not idly. Not in passing. There was something in that question. Something deep, meaningful.

“…Why do you ask?”

Cassandra hesitated. Just for a second.

Then, looking away to somewhere just beyond the pavilion's edge, she shrugged. "Most nobles enjoy it as a matter of fashion," she began thoughtfully, her voice quiet but steady. "But they don't think about what it takes to create something like a ballad."

Her fingers stroked the lapel of his coat absently.

“They never wonder how much thought goes into shaping a melody, how a single note can change the meaning of a song. How the right words can make something linger in a person’s mind long after the music fades.” She paused for a breath. “How it feels to create something that isn’t just heard—but felt.”

Clavis considered her. Considered the way she chose her words carefully. The way she asked without fully asking.

It was almost funny. He'd spent his life studying people, stripping them bare before they even realized it—and yet here she was, daring to peel at the edges of him.

“Are you speaking from experience?” His voice was light. Easy. But his eyes narrowed just a hair.

Cassandra’s fingers stilled against the fabric of his coat.

Ah. So that was it.

Interesting.

The knowledge stirred in his chest, unspoken.

A soft little vulnerability, one she hadn’t meant to reveal. And wasn’t that something they had in common?

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could—

The wind shifted—cutting, sudden. A blast of cool air curled through the pavilion, carrying a fresh wave of mist. Cassandra let out a quiet gasp, instinctively drawing back from the chill.

Before thought, before reason, before he could remind himself what he should do—Clavis moved. His fingers found the edges of his coat, tugging it tighter around her, sealing in the warmth before the cold could steal it away.

Swift. Automatic. Too natural—as if his body had chosen for him. How many times had he let instinct drive him before he had the sense to pull back.

And then—she looked up at him.

Her emerald eyes lifted, wide, lips parting just so. He felt it then—the fragile weight of the moment. The space where neither of them moved.

His hands lingered.

Long enough for his fingertips to brush against hers.

Long enough for the silence to thicken, for the air to shift into something heavier, something…charged.

A slow inhale.

A single heartbeat.

Then—as if suddenly aware of himself, Clavis eased his grip and let his fingers slip away.

Not abruptly. Not rushed. Just…enough to retreat.

He stepped back, his usual grin sliding into place. “Tsk. Look at you, shivering like the little songbird you are.”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze dipped downward, her fingers still curled under the weight of his coat. And just before the moment slipped away entirely—a flush.

Faint. Subtle. Almost imperceptible.

From the cold?

…Or something else?

And why—why did it matter to him suddenly?

Clavis exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders—shaking off something unseen, something deeper than he was willing to entertain. He knew better than to let that sort of thing settle. Knew what happened when you let yourself believe someone might actually care.

Masking his unsettlement, he lowered himself onto the bench, stretching out as if he owned the space, as if nothing at all had unsettled him. “You know,” he mused, “legend has it that storms like this are caused by restless spirits. Tragic figures, forever weeping over lost love.”

Cassandra blinked at him. “…You just made that up.”

“Did I?” He gasped, a hand flying to his chest in mock offense. “Lady Bellerose, you wound me. I would never lie to you.” With a languid pat to the seat beside him, he gestured for her to join him.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t respond right away. Instead, her gaze flitted to the empty space beside him. For a second—just a second—she bit her lip, as if debating something.

Then, with measured caution, she sank onto the bench—leaving just enough space to be proper—but not so much to give the impression she was avoiding him. Her hands folded neatly in her lap.

She turned and gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “No, but you’d certainly embellish.”

“Ah, guilty as charged.” He grinned, unrepentant. “But can you blame me? A bit of mystery, a bit of romance—it makes the world far more interesting.”

Cassandra scoffed, shaking her head. “Is that what you tell yourself? That as long as something sounds poetic, it doesn’t have to be true?”

Clavis observed her scrupulously. “A good story is always true in the moment it’s being told.” His golden gaze drifted toward her, glinting with amusement. “Tell me, lovely little enchantress, have you never let yourself believe in something simply because it was beautiful?”

Cassandra’s fingers absently plucked at a loose thread on his coat’s sleeve, as if considering his words. Then, after a beat, she exhaled softly. “Believing in something doesn’t make it real.”

“Ah, but doesn’t indulgence demand a little belief?” The corner of his lip curled, slow and knowing. “A lie, a fantasy, a temptation—it only works if you let yourself fall for it, if only for a moment.”

Cassandra’s fingers tightened slightly around the edges of his coat, but her expression remained impassive. “Belief is different from indulgence.”

“Ah, but isn’t that the fun of indulgence?” His smirk deepened. “You let yourself believe in the moment, even if you know better.”

And wasn't that precisely why it was dangerous? Because the moment you believed—truly believed—

That's when it broke you.

She cast him a sideways glance, lips pressed, as if weighing her next words.

Clavis waited. Expecting an exasperated scoff, a chiding remark—some sort of rebuke to put him back in his place.

But instead—she let the moment stretch, her gaze wavering with something unreadable, something just out of reach.

And, as if arriving at a quiet conclusion, a tiny, unforeseen smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Then I imagine you must be the most indulgent person in the entire kingdom.”

Another deliberate tease.

She had turned her words back on him. She was enjoying it.

And...so was he.

“The most indulgent person in the kingdom? You flatter me, dearie.” He sighed theatrically, savoring the title. “Then I suppose it’s only fitting that we find ourselves in the middle of a grand, romantic tragedy. Two restless souls, stranded in the storm, at the mercy of fate itself…” He grinned devilishly. “How wonderfully scandalous.”

To his utter delight, Cassandra did not react with a gasp or stammer or sigh in exasperation.

Instead—

She smirked.

“Well, if I’m to be trapped in a dramatic tragedy,” she said, a wicked smile mirroring his own dancing on her lips, “at least I have the most melodramatic lead possible.”

Oh, now this was positively delectable.

“Here I thought I was the only one playing this game,” he murmured, his golden eyes gleaming. “But it seems I’ve been mistaken.”

He waited, watching her with bated breath. Would she double down? Or back away entirely?

Cassandra met his gaze head-on, her laugh barely restrained. “Oh, I’m sorry. And here I thought you enjoyed a challenge.”

A most entertaining, yet perilous shift.

Clavis purred, deciding to press his luck. “Careful, dearie. Keep this up, and I’ll start to think you actually enjoy my company.”

“I tolerate it,” she quipped airily.

“Mm. A dangerous start.” He furrowed his brows in a show of feigned solemnity, continuing, “So,” he continued, his voice carrying a note of mock seriousness, “do tell me, dearie—does this mean you’ve resigned yourself to our fate? Shall we embrace the drama of our predicament?” He leaned forward ever so slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing some wicked secret. “Or should I prepare to witness a daring escape? Perhaps you plan to fashion a raft from the hedgerows and sail to freedom?”

Cassandra hummed in consideration, biting back her beguilement, frowning in return. "That depends," she mused. "Would you be more devastated by my escape or the loss of your grand, tragic narrative?"

Clavis let out an exaggerated sigh. “Ah, Lady Bellerose, you wound me. Do you truly think I would mourn the loss of a mere story over the tragedy of your absence?” His expression remained one of catastrophe, but his twinkling eyes betrayed him. “Besides, I’d be forced to chase after you, if only to ensure your escape was sufficiently entertaining.”

Cassandra scoffed, but the amusement in her eyes said otherwise. “You’re impossible.”

Clavis guffawed, victorious. “Undeniably.”

The rain continued to drum against the pavilion roof in a soothing, steady rhythm, the wind playfully pulling at the edges of his coat where it draped over her shoulders. The storm had begun to abate into a pleasant summer rain, but the air between them had not. Something lingered, something quiet—an unspoken thread weaving between them, waiting to be tugged.

Clavis watched, hawk-like golden eyes still, waiting for her next retort.

But she didn’t offer one.

Instead, after a long moment—a fraction too long—she released a soft breath, then asked, “Do you ever get tired of making everything a joke?"

It was spoken lightly, without judgment. But it slipped beneath his armor—a stone skipping across deep waters. Trivial. Skimming along the surface. Yet sinking all the same.

He held his smirk. He willed his expression to remain relaxed. Untouched.

But his jaw tightened—just barely.

She couldn’t possibly know, could she? Couldn’t know that humor wasn’t indulgence—it was armor. Couldn’t know how many times he’d needed to laugh before someone could laugh at him.

Before they could dismiss him. Forget him. Like they always had.

He forced a slow breath. Practiced. Deliberate. The tension gone. Almost as soon as it surfaced.

But Cassandra had noticed.

He saw it in the slight crinkle between her brows, in the way her gaze shifted—not with pity, not with wariness, but with something far more dangerous.

Understanding.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders and letting the moment slip from his body like rain off a slick surface. “The world is cruel enough, don’t you think?” He kept his voice smooth. Silky. Unbothered. “Someone has to balance it out.”

Cassandra said nothing, continuing to study him. Her fingers absently traced over the lapel of his coat, the lantern’s glow streaking gold through the dark strands of her hair like fleeting embers.

It unsettled Clavis how she looked at him differently than the others. Not with caution. Not with calculation. Not waiting for the inevitable moment he would turn the tables.

No, she was looking for him.

And Clavis Lelouch—who had spent years perfecting the art of misdirection—felt it. The heat of her gaze, the steady weight of her silence, slicing through his performance like a blade slipping through silk.

Like she had just seen something real.

Like she was waiting to see if he would pretend she hadn’t.

And Clavis—for the first time in a long time—wavered.

Enough for her to see past the performance.

And that…that was a problem.

“Balance,” she murmured, slowly, as though testing the word’s weight in her mouth, her gaze still on the dying storm. She turned to him, her head askew. “...Is that what you think you’re doing?”

Clavis slid his grin back into place, a buffer. “Who’s to say?”

The words came easily. Too easily.

But there was an uneasy undercurrent running beneath them. And he feared Cassandra heard it. Felt it. Detected it.

If she did, she didn’t press.

Her searching gaze bore into him—too long, too knowing, twisting something low in his chest.

Then, without another word, she returned her gaze back toward the storm.

The rain drummed against the pavilion roof in a steady patter, pooling in the cracks of the stone path, fractured lantern light shimmering off its surface in broken, silver pieces. The wind stirred, winding through the pavilion’s beams, teasing the edge of his coat draped around her shoulders and the loose strands of her hair. The occasional roll of thunder rumbled like a distant thought.

Clavis shifted his weight against the wooden beam, observing Cassandra through half-lidded golden eyes. She softly sighed, her fingers still toying with the lapels of his coat, and he noted that she wasn’t withdrawing. She was just…lingering.

While she had never been humorless, she had always been careful. She had reacted to his jests, certainly, but she had never initiated. She had never attempted to match him at his own game.

And yet—here she was.

No audience. No expectations. No masks to maintain.

And still, she stayed. Still, she engaged with him.

The realization sent a ripple of something odd through his chest.

She was fascinating.

The silence between them hung heavily in the air, waiting for him to fill it. Waiting for him to pretend this moment had never existed. It pressed against his skin, like something had been let in. Just enough to leave a mark. Just enough for the weight of it all to smother him.

He should say something. Turn the moment into something else. A joke, a clever remark, anything to restore the usual rhythm of their banter.

But for some unknown reason—he didn’t.

And Cassandra—whether she noticed or not—allowed the silence to continue.

He watched her play with his coat, and he couldn’t help, but ruminate on the way she had asked about music. Or why the question had sounded so much like something else. Was there more to her question other than just notes and composition? Did he detect passion or something else?

Or had she, without realizing it, asked him something deeper��about whether there was anything in his life that wasn't a performance?

Before he could dwell on it—before he could even decide if he wanted to dwell on it—a sudden crack of thunder split the sky in two, loud enough to rattle the wooden beams above them.

Cassandra let out a startled yelp as another gust of wind sent a fresh spray of cold rain swirling into the pavilion. She jerked away from the edge—and closer to him.

The moment—whatever it had been—was gone.

And Clavis let it go.

Or rather, pushed it away.

Flicking a drop of rain from his sleeve, his smirk slipped back into place like a mask settling over a well-worn face. “Well, that’s rude. Interrupting a perfectly pleasant conversation.”

Cassandra breathed a laugh, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “The rain seems to be letting up. I suppose we can leave soon.”

“Well, dearie,” he drawled, stepping forward with exaggerated grandeur, “if we must return to the cruel, soggy world beyond, allow me to escort you in style. I’ll even shield you from any rogue puddles that dare cross our path.”

Cassandra gave him an unimpressed look, but the corners of her lips betrayed her amusement.

The storm was already easing, the worst of it passing, the rain softening into a gentle patter against the rooftops.

Clavis tilted his head, studying her one last time—as if he could puzzle out whatever had just passed between them before it slipped entirely through his fingers.

But it had slipped.

Whatever had just happened between them—had passed.

For now.

And it wasn’t the storm or her laughter that unsettled him. It was how easily he wanted to hold onto the part of her that hadn’t recoiled when the mask cracked.

(But Clavis Lelouch was not nearly as good at forgetting as he liked to pretend.)

Ikemen Tag Crew: @rjthirsty @ithseem @chirp-a-chirp @aquagirl1978 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@nyxthepixystick @ikeprinces-stuff @kaizoku-musume @candiedcoffeedrops @missaengg

@ike-garden2024 @writingwhimsey @reborn-elven-spirit @william-rex @avellanas-nutty-empire

@notjonahclemence

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince clavis #clavis lelouch #Clavis x Cassandra

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alanncs · 5 years ago

Text

hi my angels ! my name’s dani , i’m from toronto ontario aka best city in the worldt , & i’m 20 ! i’m the kelsey m on the main & i can’t tell u how excited i am to have wealthy up n running again ! i literally can’t wait to plot with all you beautiful peoples , so pls like this & i’ll slide in the dms , otherwise u can also hit me up on discord 𝒎𝒈𝒌'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 .#1958 !! i’m gonna put all you need 2 know about alanna below aaand i hope y’all like her ! <3

new york’s very own alanna d'alessio was spotted on broadway street in gucci bee sneakers . your resemblance to hailey baldwin is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty first birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being reticent , but also gracious . i guess being a scorpio explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be anything pink , the lingering smell of weed , and a cigarette between her fingers . & ( cisfemale & she/her ) + ( dani , 20 , she/her , est . )

* / 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑠 .

full name : alanna marie d’alessio .

age : twenty - one .

hometown : new york city .

zodiac chart : scorpio sun , aquarius moon , libra rising .

character inspo : alyssa ( the end of the f*cking world ) , marissa cooper ( the o.c ) , hanna marin ( pretty little liars ) .

* / 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 !! tw : kidnapping , ransom , drugs

alanna was born heir to the d'alessio family which came with the billion dollar dynasty that her parents created .

her dad is an italian government official but they grew up in ny basically bc her dad is an ambassador/representative for italy & her mother is a super model who also wanted to raise her kids here having lived here her whole life , and so they did .

she had everything handed to her on a silver platter and her parents expected nothing but success from her because of how wealthy they were, they knew they would never have to worry about providing for her and her siblings , and so they spoiled her with whatever she asked for and more

but that came with a price, she was expected to do everything they wanted of her, go to an ivy league college, follow in one of her parent’s career footsteps

alanna did just that, she got amazing grades in high school and was head of many student clubs, organized prom, got almost perfect on sat’s and exams, and busted her ass to get into a good college despite the fact that her parents could’ve easily gotten her a spot if she didn’t do as well as she did

her life was going so well, she had the perfect boyfriend, perfect group of friends, was on her way to brown university in a couple of months, her parents and her couldn’t have been in a better spot with their daughter

the last thing they expected was for someone, a stranger, to get their hands on their daughter . a week after her 18th birthday , she’s walking to school on a monday morning and before she knows what’s happening , there’s something over her head and she’s being dragged into a van and taken from her life

the one thing that was expected, was the $10 million ransom she was held for

basically her dad had some shady dealings with the italian mob & didn’t pay his debts to them for some time - so they kidnapped alanna in retaliation for that

they kept her for 3 days before her parents were able to work with the authorities to get her returned and pay the people in full

surprisingly, she was returned alive but she had to spend two weeks in the hospital afterwards with injuries

once alanna was returned, she wasn’t the same

she told the police what happened to her , but only barely . she didn’t tell her parents or anyone else about what they did to her when she was gone .

she didn’t speak , eat or sleep for two months after she got home

she spent the last few months of her high school in bed, she didn’t attend her graduation, deferred from going to brown in the fall, she didn’t see her friends anymore and she broke up with her boyfriend

the people who took her were never caught & she is still to this day completely terrified of going anywhere alone

she never walks anywhere alone

it took her months to be able to get back to doing normal things again and being who she was before

to this day , alanna still struggles with the memories and the ptsd from what happened to her , but she doesn’t speak to anyone about it and she refuses to bring it up in any scenario

she also has a horrible relationship with her father now , having trouble forgiving him for what happened to her

some people know about it as obviously, being as famous as her family is, it was on the news at the time, and everyone she went to high school with knew what happened so sometimes it can be hard to avoid it

she wants to forget - here comes her secret - she got into drugs after the kidnapping and it quickly spiraled out of control , now she can’t seem to function without them because they’re the only thing that make her feel normal and make the memories fade

anything she can get her hands on rly

but the media think she’s an angel , her reputation has been kept p much pristine her whole life . and her parents have no clue how much she’s struggling or how much she’s changed . so if this were to come out , it would tarnish not only alanna’s reputation but her family’s as well

* / 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 !!

after deferring from brown , alanna knew she had to find some way to keep herself occupied and make money , even though she could live off her parents for however long she wanted

alanna wants to be . miss independent .

so she started getting into modelling , bc of her mom it was easy for her to book gigs

she was able to book gigs like adidas , guess , calvin klein etc !

so that was super exciting for her bc she got really into it and enjoyed doing it sm

she started acting about a year ago - started off in a few movies , & now she’s currently starring in a netflix series - smth similiar to elite or on my block !

oko so in high school alanna was super bubbly , and just like the really overly nice girl that would talk to literally every 1

but it worked for her bc she was voted prom queen and valedictorian ! even tho she missed graduation . yike

Anyway now ! she is not v much like that anymore , except when she’s super high .

since her kidnapping alanna has been closed off and aloof . in general , she’s not as talkative

she says what she thinks but it usually comes in one word mumbles

can sometimes b very entertaining . she’s kinda like paris hilton a little bit

also think Marissa from the oc !!

call her a spoiled brat she’s gonna be like “ yah… and ?”

she can be very selfish to a fault in certain situations

and very defensive if she feels attacked, judged , put into a corner , physically cornered , etc

she’s a hopeless romantic at heart and dreams of having an epic love story

but she has Hella trust issues which easily lead to commitment issues for her so … she will cheat “by accident” lol

that’s why she tries to steer clear of relationships but she also has such a big heart she falls in love 5 times a day sffsdkj

also w how much this girl can sleep around it’s not happening any Time soon 4 her ! she enjoys being single a lot

Bc she likes to get wild

shes like nicole richie on the simple life when she’s partying lmao

like she likes 2 fuck with ppl sometimes lol , like she will flirt w anyone and everyone just cus she’s bored

umm she lives in sweatpants n crop tops !

her hair is either in a bun or just down , she’s rly lazy when it comes to hair and makeup . like if her makeups done someone else did it lol

Unless she’s like fully in the mood

ooverall she’s a rly sweet lil bean whos just scared of humans ! :’(

um ya idk im always developing her but IF U read all this ilysm !

here’s her pinterest board for more of an idea !

* / 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 !!

EVERYTHING ! here is a link to my wc page & a link to my wc TAG which are both full of ideas so msg me & i’ll throw tons of ideas at u <333 let’s do it i luv plotting sm okay

#tw drugs #tw kidnapping #wealthyhq:intro #hehehe <3

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alanncs · 5 years ago

Text

hello all ! my name’s dani , i’m one of the main admins & i can’t tell u how excited i am to have wealthy up n running again ! i can’t wait to plot with all you beautiful peoples , pls like this & i’ll slide in the dms , otherwise u can also hit me up on discord 𝟞𝖌𝖔𝖉♡#1958 !! i’m gonna put all you need 2 know about alanna below aaand i hope y’all like her ! <3

new york’s very own alanna deniro was spotted on broadway street in gucci bee sneakers . your resemblance to hailey baldwin is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty first birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being reticent , but also gracious . i guess being a scorpio explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be anything pink , the lingering smell of weed , and a cigarette between her fingers . & ( cisfemale & she/her ) + ( dani , 20 , she/her , est . )

☇ ❪ ˚･ﾟ ❛ backstory !! tw: kidnapping , ransom , drugs

alanna was born heir to the deniro family , which came with the billion dollar dynasty that her father created - hotels , stores , brands , cars , etc . anything u could think of really

she grew up accustomed to the spotlight, having no choice when it came to that considering her family had been in it for decades

but that came with a price, she was expected to do everything they wanted of her, go to an ivy league college, follow in one of her parent’s career footsteps

the one thing that was expected, was the $10 million ransom she was held for

they kept her for 48 hours before her parents were able to work with the authorities to get her returned and pay the people in full

once alanna was returned, she wasn’t the same

she told the police what happened to her , but only barely . she didn’t tell her parents or anyone else about what they did to her when she was gone .

she didn’t speak , eat or sleep for two weeks after she got home

the people who took her were caught about 8 months later on another charge and that was the first time she felt safe since . it took her months to be able to get back to doing normal things again and being who she was before

to this day , alanna still struggles with the memories and the ptsd from what happened to her , but she doesn’t speak to anyone about it and she refuses to bring it up in any scenario

anything she can get her hands on rly

but the media think she’s an angel , her reputation has been kept p much pristine her whole life . and her parents have no clue how much she’s struggling . so if this were to come out , it would tarnish not only alanna’s reputation but her family’s as well

☇ ❪ ˚･ﾟ ❛ personality !!

after deferring from brown , alanna knew she had to find some way to keep herself occupied and make money , even though she could live off her parents for however long she wanted

alanna wants to be . miss independent .

she gets her worth ethic from her father

so she started getting into modelling , first it was small stuff , then she got on instagram and things went really well from there

she was able to book gigs like adidas , guess , calvin klein etc !

so that was super exciting for her bc she got really into it and enjoyed doing it sm

i’m definitely gonna expand on her career as we move along in the rp bc i have so many ideass !! fnsds

oko so in high school alanna was super bubbly , and just like the really overly nice girl that would talk to literally every 1

but it worked for her bc she was voted prom queen and valedictorian ! even tho she missed graduation . yike

Anyway now ! she is not v much like that anymore , except when she’s super high .

since her kidnapping alanna has been closed off and aloof . in general , she’s not as talkative

she says what she thinks but it usually comes in one word mumbles

can sometimes b very entertaining . she’s kinda like paris hilton a little bit

also think Marissa from the oc !!

call her a spoiled brat she’s gonna be like “ yah... and ?”

she can be very selfish to a fault in certain situations

and very defensive if she feels attacked, judged , put into a corner , physically cornered , etc

she’s a hopeless romantic at heart and dreams of having an epic love story

but she has Hella trust issues which easily lead to commitment issues for her so ... she will cheat “by accident” lol

that’s why she tries to steer clear of relationships but she also has such a big heart she falls in love 5 times a day sffsdkj

also w how much this girl can sleep around it’s not happening any Time soon 4 her ! she enjoys being single a lot

Bc she likes to get wild

shes like nicole richie on the simple life when she’s partying lmao

like she likes 2 fuck with ppl sometimes lol , like she will flirt w anyone and everyone just cus she’s bored

umm she lives in sweatpants n crop tops !

her hair is either in a bun or just down , she’s rly lazy when it comes to hair and makeup . like if her makeups done someone else did it lol

Unless she’s like fully in the mood

um ya idk im always developing her but IF U read all this ilysm !

here’s her pinterest board for more of an idea !

☇ ❪ ˚･ﾟ ❛ wanted connections !!

EVERYTHING !! hehe . i have a wc page right here & there’s a wanted tag linked there as well so pls gimme all <3

#wealthyhq:intro

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