[Fic] "Made Manifest: Mother Wolf"-- Code Geass
At the beginning of the month, I posted about a deeply stupid AU idea that I had for Code Geass, which has not only refused to die, but which continues to tick away in the back of my mind, developing world-building details and plot incidents. (I am still not actually writing it, but I am now resigned to at least producing a detailed outline.)
Also, I have written two sidefics. Which are really more like backstory fics, or let's-try-out-the-world-building fics, but whatever. One of them I posted in a somewhat sloppy version as a comment!fic for askerian. The other is new.
So. Here is the first one, about Marianne vi Britannia and her son. (875 words -- and you really ought to go read the background post first, or this will make very little sense.)
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Made Manifest: Mother Wolf
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Marianne vi Britannia gave birth to her first child in a tiny, bunker-like room in the basement of the hospital wing of the imperial palace. Charles did not attend. No one was notified of the event in advance. The only people present, aside from herself and the child, were a mousy young doctor, a rather bored nurse, and the soul reader.
When her son finally emerged, the doctor cut and tied the umbilical cord, checked his pulse and breath, and handed him directly to the reader, still damp and sticky with blood and other fluids. There was no sense washing or clothing a corpse, after all, and if he weren't a dragon, he wouldn't live another minute.
The reader pressed the tips of his fingers to the baby's forehead, then closed his eyes and traced downward over the baby's face to rest above his heart.
"Push one last time, please," the nurse said. "And once more. Good. That's me done." She gathered the mess of the afterbirth into a basin and pulled the stained sheet down over Marianne's legs. "Your splendor," she said with a brisk bob of her head, and then carried the bloody mess away for disposal.
Marianne paid no attention. She watched the reader, barely daring to breathe.
The baby drew a hiccupping breath and wailed, and the reader opened his eyes. "Dragon," he said with a knowing smile. "Congratulations on the birth of your son."
Marianne inclined her head in acknowledgement, refusing to let relief show. Her son would live.
The doctor whisked the baby out of the reader's arms and stepped into the adjoining room to clean him and perform all the little checks of health and size that suddenly became relevant. The reader stayed, going so far as to wet a paper towel in the sink and offer it to Marianne. She wiped her face and hands, and began to tidy her hair.
The reader closed the door to the adjoining room and leaned against the sink. "The boy is strong," he said, conversationally. "All dragons are, of course, but he's strong even among his siblings. That news should put some of the gossip to rest." He smiled again, his eyes sharp and hungry. Mocking.
Marianne dropped the crumpled towel into the waste bin beside the birthing bed. "Your duty is to confirm the affinities of the emperor's children, nothing more. If you spread any further details to anyone but the emperor himself, I will remove you. Don't think to hide behind rumor, either -- if I hear so much as a whispered speculation that my son might be a threat to his older siblings, I will consider you to blame."
The reader's smile never wavered. "As you say, Lady Marianne."
Marianne pushed aside pain and bone-deep exhaustion and stood from the spartan bed, half-naked -- the loose, puke-green hospital gown was barely long enough to reach her thighs. "You misunderstand me," she said. "I don't mean I'll make your life uncomfortable, or dismiss you from imperial service. I mean that I'll kill you. Painfully. With no appeal."
She slid into her other skin and leapt across the room. The reader slammed into the concrete wall, then the floor, and Marianne crouched atop him, her muzzle and teeth a mere breath away from his soft, vulnerable throat.
"Do I make myself clear?" she growled.
The reader quivered, reeking of fear and fresh urine. "Yes," he said. "Yes, very clear, your splendor."
"Good," Marianne said, and slipped back from wolf to woman, heedless of her undress and the position in which she knelt.
She stood as the doctor opened the door, a tiny bundle of blue terrycloth cradled in her white-clad arms. The woman stilled in the doorway, eyes skipping over Marianne's bloody thighs and disheveled gown, and the soul reader lying soiled on the floor. But she was well-trained and said only, "Your son, your splendor. What name should I give to the registrar?"
Marianne plucked the tiny body from the doctor's arms and carried her son back to the bed. He did not look strong, nor like a dragon. He was as weak and helpless as every other human child, regardless of his heritage and potential.
Marianne touched her son's cheek with one finger. He turned toward the contact, blindly, his open mouth toothless and soft. Hungry, most likely.
His fangs would come with time. As hers had, and his father's. Someday he would shake the world. Until then, she would guard him and teach him to make his own way. And she would indulge in one moment of sentiment, her one absolute right over this child that not even Charles could take from her.
"Lelouch," she said. "His name is Lelouch."
Her grandfather had been executed for treason against a mad emperor. His namesake would rule Britannia one day, and finish what Charles had begun. Her son would make the world whole.
The boy mouthed at her finger again. Marianne pulled the hospital gown off her shoulders, shifting her son toward her left breast. Distantly, she marked the doctor helping the reader to his feet and leading him out of the birthing room, but they were unimportant.
She sat with her son and dreamed of the future.
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End of Story
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The fun thing about writing an AU that requires as much world-building as this one does is that I can throw out or twist quite a lot of canon backstory, so long as I get Lelouch, Kallen, Suzaku, and CC to Shinjuku in a reasonably plausible fashion, without making them too unrecognizable from their canon selves. *evil laughter*
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)
Also, I have written two sidefics. Which are really more like backstory fics, or let's-try-out-the-world-building fics, but whatever. One of them I posted in a somewhat sloppy version as a comment!fic for askerian. The other is new.
So. Here is the first one, about Marianne vi Britannia and her son. (875 words -- and you really ought to go read the background post first, or this will make very little sense.)
---------------------------------------------
Made Manifest: Mother Wolf
---------------------------------------------
Marianne vi Britannia gave birth to her first child in a tiny, bunker-like room in the basement of the hospital wing of the imperial palace. Charles did not attend. No one was notified of the event in advance. The only people present, aside from herself and the child, were a mousy young doctor, a rather bored nurse, and the soul reader.
When her son finally emerged, the doctor cut and tied the umbilical cord, checked his pulse and breath, and handed him directly to the reader, still damp and sticky with blood and other fluids. There was no sense washing or clothing a corpse, after all, and if he weren't a dragon, he wouldn't live another minute.
The reader pressed the tips of his fingers to the baby's forehead, then closed his eyes and traced downward over the baby's face to rest above his heart.
"Push one last time, please," the nurse said. "And once more. Good. That's me done." She gathered the mess of the afterbirth into a basin and pulled the stained sheet down over Marianne's legs. "Your splendor," she said with a brisk bob of her head, and then carried the bloody mess away for disposal.
Marianne paid no attention. She watched the reader, barely daring to breathe.
The baby drew a hiccupping breath and wailed, and the reader opened his eyes. "Dragon," he said with a knowing smile. "Congratulations on the birth of your son."
Marianne inclined her head in acknowledgement, refusing to let relief show. Her son would live.
The doctor whisked the baby out of the reader's arms and stepped into the adjoining room to clean him and perform all the little checks of health and size that suddenly became relevant. The reader stayed, going so far as to wet a paper towel in the sink and offer it to Marianne. She wiped her face and hands, and began to tidy her hair.
The reader closed the door to the adjoining room and leaned against the sink. "The boy is strong," he said, conversationally. "All dragons are, of course, but he's strong even among his siblings. That news should put some of the gossip to rest." He smiled again, his eyes sharp and hungry. Mocking.
Marianne dropped the crumpled towel into the waste bin beside the birthing bed. "Your duty is to confirm the affinities of the emperor's children, nothing more. If you spread any further details to anyone but the emperor himself, I will remove you. Don't think to hide behind rumor, either -- if I hear so much as a whispered speculation that my son might be a threat to his older siblings, I will consider you to blame."
The reader's smile never wavered. "As you say, Lady Marianne."
Marianne pushed aside pain and bone-deep exhaustion and stood from the spartan bed, half-naked -- the loose, puke-green hospital gown was barely long enough to reach her thighs. "You misunderstand me," she said. "I don't mean I'll make your life uncomfortable, or dismiss you from imperial service. I mean that I'll kill you. Painfully. With no appeal."
She slid into her other skin and leapt across the room. The reader slammed into the concrete wall, then the floor, and Marianne crouched atop him, her muzzle and teeth a mere breath away from his soft, vulnerable throat.
"Do I make myself clear?" she growled.
The reader quivered, reeking of fear and fresh urine. "Yes," he said. "Yes, very clear, your splendor."
"Good," Marianne said, and slipped back from wolf to woman, heedless of her undress and the position in which she knelt.
She stood as the doctor opened the door, a tiny bundle of blue terrycloth cradled in her white-clad arms. The woman stilled in the doorway, eyes skipping over Marianne's bloody thighs and disheveled gown, and the soul reader lying soiled on the floor. But she was well-trained and said only, "Your son, your splendor. What name should I give to the registrar?"
Marianne plucked the tiny body from the doctor's arms and carried her son back to the bed. He did not look strong, nor like a dragon. He was as weak and helpless as every other human child, regardless of his heritage and potential.
Marianne touched her son's cheek with one finger. He turned toward the contact, blindly, his open mouth toothless and soft. Hungry, most likely.
His fangs would come with time. As hers had, and his father's. Someday he would shake the world. Until then, she would guard him and teach him to make his own way. And she would indulge in one moment of sentiment, her one absolute right over this child that not even Charles could take from her.
"Lelouch," she said. "His name is Lelouch."
Her grandfather had been executed for treason against a mad emperor. His namesake would rule Britannia one day, and finish what Charles had begun. Her son would make the world whole.
The boy mouthed at her finger again. Marianne pulled the hospital gown off her shoulders, shifting her son toward her left breast. Distantly, she marked the doctor helping the reader to his feet and leading him out of the birthing room, but they were unimportant.
She sat with her son and dreamed of the future.
---------------------------------------------
End of Story
---------------------------------------------
The fun thing about writing an AU that requires as much world-building as this one does is that I can throw out or twist quite a lot of canon backstory, so long as I get Lelouch, Kallen, Suzaku, and CC to Shinjuku in a reasonably plausible fashion, without making them too unrecognizable from their canon selves. *evil laughter*
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)