Code Geass: The Black Prince Ch. 01 Part 02
CODE GEASS: THE BLACK PRINCE
Chapter 01: Tangents
Part 02
Click here to read Part 01.
Carlisle had not yet returned from his assignment, much to Lelouch's disappointment. The young lad had to run in every direction just to do his Lord's bidding, with a ridiculous care to do things by the book with impeccable care and form. When asked why he ran his secretary through such a cruel wringer, the Prince usually replied, 'he lacks some muscle and endurance. Some training will do him some good."
In a way, it reminded him of his own, erstwhile relationship with Cornelia - that of a mentor and its student. What Carlisle lacked was ruggedness and reality; the first time they had met, the young recruit had been too neatly groomed, too jumpy, too attached to perfection and too eager to provide information right out of the military academy's manuals. Ever since, Lelouch had made it a point to destroy that infuriating, clean-cut personality of his and shape it into a more realistic, dirty-handed figure.
I guess I'll cut him some slack, Lelouch thought. Next week will be even more hectic for him.
He used the service bell to summon a servant and called for the current head of security.
"What news of the intruder," he asked briskly, his mind roiling with possibilities. Like a famous fictional detective invented a century ago, he loved making deductions and solving mysteries his own way. "I trust he has been caught, detained and dealt with?"
The kneeling guard gulped and gathered his strength to finish his report.
"He hasn't," Lelouch said for him. He didn't even bother punishing the man; it wasn't because he somehow knew it wasn't the poor soul's fault or because it was utterly pointless, but rather that he had already turned towards other possibilities. An intruder in my grounds. The question is: what was he or she doing here? This sector is the most guarded of all and no infiltrator would have been stupid or brazen enough to take the hardest road to inside the Palace. In other words, I was the objective.
He dismissed the heavily sweating guard and glared at his teacup. It wasn't hard to actually guess why someone would try to sneak in; even though his subjects feared him to an extent, he was genuinely dangerous to the topmost strata of society. The succession line was complicated in a twisted way; not only did the royal candidates have to be pure-blooded to ascend to the throne but they also had to be older than the rest. While the sex didn't matter, the third factor was even harder to fill in: power and fame. Handicapped by both birthright and age, he had to make up by gaining as much authority as possible. Thanks to the Area 17 campaign, he had managed to rise high enough to challenge Prince Schneizel, but certainly not enough to be on par with the Firstborn Heir, Odysseus. It was nevertheless enough to give a whip-like message to the court: do not, ever, look down on me again. I'm the one holding right of life and death over you now.
I'm the one wielding power and the right to judge, now.
Beware.
Power was indeed a tasty fruit to be nibbled on and not devoured with voracity. Its flavor was enthralling, addictive, but it quickly lost its sweetness when the price paid was too bitter. In Lelouch's case, the fee came with a broken childhood and a mountain of slander and mocking whispers sent his way. Gaining authority in the Palace was as safe and easy as running the marathon through a minefield. Like a double-edged blade, power was prompt to hurt its owner when wielded incorrectly. A true sword of Damocles in its own right.
The warnings Cornelia had issued him were great in wisdom and patience. And sure enough, they proved useful the moment he made his comeback on a scene he thought to have vacated forever. But the risks didn't stop there. The world constantly changed and thriving in it implied making concessions or always taking the initiative. Lelouch had perfected his mastery in being proactive but his early years nearly cost him dear. At one particular moment, it had nary cost him his life.
The Knightmare Frame screeched to a stop as plumes of dust exploded all around him. His aides had vehemently opposed the idea of having a Britannian Prince acting as a first-line strike force but Lelouch's own determination had outlasted their disapproval. He had always stuck to the belief that a king was to lead the pawns lest nothing move at all. This school of thought certainly brought violent protests from even the most seasoned tacticians. However, the stakes were high enough to justify some of the risks he was currently taking.
Should he succeed, he'd be hailed a hero. Should he fail, everyone would be quick to bury him as a discreet footnote to history.
It was hard to miss the black-colored, spindly RPI-17 Galahad zigzagging on the battlefield, daring the enemy lines to lay a finger on it. Everybody knew that the sixth-generation machine was superior to all other models currently fielded but the idea of killing such a prestigious unit won over the Cambodian troops' indecision. Heavy fire started to rain around the Galahad, forcing its pilot to find refuge behind a rocky hillside. A series of smoke grenades erupted from the backpack, blanketing the nearby rice fields with a thick, white haze. Lelouch used the cover to creep forwards, keeping himself well away from the enemy's line of sight. He took the opportunity to run uphill and fire upon the heaviest targets he could see. As soon as the brief moment of surprise was gone, replaced by fury at being toyed with, the shelling resumed and forced the young Prince to follow a random trajectory rather than making a beeline for the enemy stronghold.
As soon as he had confirmed that all cannons were aimed at him and furiously trying to gun him down, he pushed a small button on his heads-up display. The electronic box promptly sent a high-pitched signal through the atmosphere. And while the coded message back was sent back to the mission coordinator, he charged towards the Cambodians, firing all the way up. Tracers surrounded his frame, arcing through the air in deadly waltzes and seeking their goal with ruthless determination. The Galahad suddenly stumbled as an artillery round detonated a few meters in front of its left foot. The Knightmare Frame teetered dangerously, much to its pilot's alarm, then fell forwards. It was only by pure chance that he managed to bring a knee up to avert his fall. But the damage had been done - the sixth-generation machine was now immobile, a sitting duck for the Cambodian gunners waiting in the nearby trenches. Throughout his headset, a fifteen year-old Lelouch could almost hear a cheer rise from his enemies' positions.
He gritted his teeth, furious against his predicament and enraged at his own helplessness. Nunnally's face flashed in his mind, as she silently resigned himself to a doom devoid of glory. And even as he raised his head to look at his opponents straight in the eye, his eyes retained a look of pure defiance.
It was then that the first Cambodian tank from the back lines disappeared in a torrent of fire. And soon, more followed the same fate, each vanishing in spheres of smoke and smoldering metal.
Lelouch's shoulders sagged as he realized that his plan had, in the long run, worked successfully. Using himself as decoy for a discreet pincer maneuver was a masterpiece of strategy but a nightmare for the generals back at headquarters. His boldness was not universally appreciated but all knew that his plans were most foolproof and no sacrifice conceded was without greater compensation. Knowing that his role was over, he carefully brought the Galahad back on its feet and prudently retreated from the chaotic battlefield. It was time to stand down and watch the already established outcome.
Five minutes later, the battle was over and the landscape littered with smoking wrecks. The Galahad stopped to a kneeling position, just as a familiar, horned Gloucester pulled to his side, its jousting lance covered in soot and lube oil from felled vehicles.
"I can't believe how reckless you were, Lelouch! This was not bravery but pure madness!" Cornelia shouted at him over the radio. She was definitely seething with disappointment and shock, but a hint of elation at seeing him safe and sound could be felt between her words. "You could have died a dozen times with those last moves!"
"I should remark that thanks to my recklessness, we have won, sister. My strategy did prevail," the younger soldier pointed out, feeling the need to defend himself. They might have different philosophies on how to wage wars but both prized efficiency and intelligence first and foremost. "There is no way one can win without taking some risks to make the success worthwhile."
"There is no meaning in victory if you are no longer there to celebrate it!" she kept on berating him, her knuckles white with consternation. No Imperial Child below a certain age and level of expertise would have been allowed to consort with death so daringly, even if he was nothing but a half-forgotten outcast, a disgraced royal spawn. But that hardly mattered now. Lelouch had not lost any of his impetuosity and determination to win battles on his own terms; notions such as death or maiming seemed too remote to him for her taste. It was almost as if it was okay for him to die, as he had very little left back home. He was not suicidal but his temerity was so great it blurred the lines between irresponsibility and dedication. It was her fault, she realized. She thought providing a more idealistic account of fighting could return him to the norms but it appeared as if she had overdone her impression on him. It was time she rectified the problem and started teaching him some restraint.
"I admit defeat, sister," the young caporal conceded. "You're right. No meaning whatsoever."
Cornelia didn't know by then that her sibling had already committed the lesson to memory, his cold logic prevailing over his fearless drive. Had she known that right then, she would have spared him the next week's worth of lectures on moderation and wisdom.
"Your Highness," a young maid quietly announced from the doorway, interrupting his flashback. "His Highness Prince Clovis had requested an audience with you."
"Let him in, then, miss," Lelouch answered, his forehead now creased. Clovis was one of his twenty-odd half-brothers as well as one of those he liked less, or so he claimed. Despite what he usually told his entourage, the Black Prince entertained a dual relationship with his older relative, a mix of friendliness and rivalry. A more informed soul like Euphemia or Cornelia could have confirmed that, despite appearances, there were actually no bad feelings between the two of them. They just constantly competed with each other in games such as chess or other intellectual contests. They had never come to blows, merely a rougher version of brotherly ribbing. To make things even clearer about their relationship, close family friends were quick to point out that Clovis was one of those that had never ostracized Lelouch after Marianne's death, always willing to paying him a visit to keep his spirits high.
It wasn't long before the doors opened anew, letting a young man bedecked in royal blue step in.
"Hello, Clovis, are you here to lose another match?" Lelouch smirked, enjoying the flash of irritation in his brother's eyes. Although timid, the older prince had a major weakness: a deep sense of narcissism. Clovis stuck his nose in a sign of defiance. "For your information, I'm not here to play, Lelouch. The alarms have kept me up for the better part of the night thanks to your guards' excessive amount of zeal."
"I cannot replace lost sleep, dear brother, but I can offer excuses if that is what you want. However, the one giving them should not be me," Lelouch said off-handedly. "But rather the one who triggered the alarms."
"An intruder?" Clovis' eyebrows tufted higher on his forehead. "In Aries Palace? Nobody has tried that-"
"For seven years, if that is what you mean to say," Lelouch completed with a sharp edge to his tone. Clovis' half-opened mouth shut with an audible click. Everyone save the almighty Emperor himself knew better than bring up that topic. All knew the rage and hatred the Black Prince could muster on a bad day and few were those who would feel brave enough to meet it head-on. "But the culprit has not been apprehended, which is why the guard scoured the entire propriety. Since all of our lives are at stake," he added with a barely detectable ounce of irony, "consider it a free service sent your way."
"More like a nuisance, but I'd still thank you for your concern," Clovis begrudgingly returned. "What about Nunnally?"
"She slept through the entire thing as if nothing had happened. The staff has proved its competence too many times already for me to worry about it today. I saw her this morning and she hadn't even noticed there had been a security breach until one of the servants informed her of it. She was more concerned about my safety than hers, if you can believe it," Lelouch muttered, his coldness melting snow beneath the sun. Even Clovis lost, for a single second, his own animosity. Both were particularly protective of their physically impaired sibling.
"I'll visit her this afternoon if it doesn't bother her," the long-haired Prince sighed. "As for you, I suggest you do not do anything that'd put you in harm's way - at times you do things that make me think you actually wish to be attacked."
"Such concern honors you," Lelouch said with a smile that however didn't speak of gentleness. "But I know how to look after myself."
"I'll take my leave, then," Clovis sighed with aggravated resignation.
Clovis bowed slightly and walked out, his cape trailing beside him. As soon as the door clicked shut, Lelouch's smile collapsed into a mask of annoyance. Clovis was one of those he had written off his list of people to investigate shortly after Marianne's assassination. Although obnoxious and excessively prideful, he had a good soul, like a good half of the other Imperial Children. No matter how hard Lelouch thought about it, Clovis definitely lacked a motive to kill the Empress. His good relationship with her small clan had convinced Lelouch, in the simplest manner possible, that his older half-brother could not be the one he had been looking for, for seven long years. Other names, like Cornelia's or Euphemia's, had already been crossed out, but the subtraction didn't decrease the list of possible masterminds by much.
Lelouch's education as a Royal Prince had been axed on three priorities: first, he was to learn how to reign as a true heir, second, he was to regain his lost status with his own strength and third, it was to better know those who might have been his mother's murderers. Playing games of influence with the most dangerous members of the Palace's community had brought much information to his hungry, ever-gauging mind.
Cursing under his breath, Lelouch checked his watch and scowled at the reading. He was going to be late for his monthly inspection of the Ashford Armories.
He walked to a nearby wardrobe and retrieved a long, tweed overcoat, which he fastened around his slender body. He rang the bell next to the table and requested his cape. Days such as these were hectic, often with very little time left for welcome distractions. The rituals he performed on a daily basis asked for great endurance but it was a price he was willing to pay. He called for his military aide de camp and immediately made for the doors, his mind already elsewhere.
He didn't notice the pair of golden eyes examining him from behind a tapestry, following every step of his with renewed interest.
~OoO~
The Ashford Armories had been brutally shut seven years ago when the Foundation had gone bankrupt. Their champion, Marianne the Flash, had died along with the financial and administrative support she had provided, and much of the shares had been dilapidated by the proverbial rats fleeing the sinking ship. The hardware and ground properties had been seized and sold in other to repay the contracted debts. In a matter of weeks, nobody with enough wealth to buy stocks on the market wanted to be associated with the once flourishing name of Ashford. It had taken Lelouch much thinking and money to resurrect the disgraced company from its ashes. Reuben Ashford, the former CEO, was still living in exile in Japan, but had allowed the Black Prince to try the impossible. Thankfully, rebuilding the organization from scratch had been easier than everyone had previously thought. Cornelia herself had helped attract investors and the booming Knightmare Frame industry had allotted the revived Armories with some trust. The Black Prince's name made for even better incentives to pour money in the growing business.
Three years later, the industry had return to a full-fledged state and the crest of the Ashford Clan once again gloriously peered out at the world, marking Lelouch's first significant victory as an actor on the private, financial scene. The clan patriarch had literally cried tears of joy when the first millions of revenues flowed in. Even though the Emperor's word couldn't be rescinded without much fighting and concessions, the genial old man had resigned himself to look at his own growing fortune from afar. Lelouch nevertheless made sure to make the money available even overseas. From what he had heard, the once famous Ashford Parties were now becoming popular in Tokyo.
"The Mordred's torso is still under revision, Your Highness," the head engineer announced, more concerned than contrite. Even though he showed mercy and generosity towards those who helped and trusted him unconditionally, the Black Prince's reputation still made many shiver in fear and morbid expectation. "The new Core was finished last week and we chose to install it rather than the older version."
"Then why are you apologizing?" Lelouch snapped. "If it means better performances, then get it done as I expect it to be."
He looked upwards and watched as the black and red frame was delicately lowered to the ground, its half-completed chest unit still wrapped in wires and electronic boxes. Technicians ran abuzz around the prototype, bringing tools and equipment for the next step of assembly. A fitting name, Lelouch decided after a casual overlook of the incomplete machine. Mordred was, according to the legends of old, the illegitimate son of the legendary King Arthur as well as his final enemy. He would eventually bring destruction to the entire kingdom, after suffering from the ignominy of his twisted childhood. Somehow it seemed to Lelouch as if a voice of the past had stirred from its sleep and sent painful echoes through his heart.
He turned to the colonel standing a few steps behind and spoke up, "I need you to meet the other engineers and schedule a possible date for the field testing. I want to see whether all of this has finally borne fruit. Have it settled at a convenient moment - it must not interfere with my other meetings in any sort. It must also make some room for any other, unexpected happenings."
"Yes, Your Highness," the aide almost mechanically replied, before snapping his heels and turning around to execute his orders. The Black Prince followed his subordinates' movements with dispassionate eyes, not even impressed with how instantly the command had been obeyed. Things like these had become an immutable part of his life.
"Fancy meeting you here, Your Highness," a melodious voice cheerfully sang from behind. Lelouch raised an eyebrow, easily recognizing its owner.
"Professor Chawla - how delightful to meet you here."
Tradition and etiquette commanded that she be the one to give a curtsey but as always, Lelouch transgressed the rules and kissed her hand instead. Shows of such gallantry were only genuine when expressed to those he held close to his heart - and Rakshata Chawla was, against many assumptions, one of them. Seven years ago, Lelouch had sought her out to take a look at Nunnally's body and try to find a better therapy. While his beloved younger sister had still not regained the use of her legs, she no longer felt any discomfort in her body's lower parts. Lelouch, eternally grateful for her services, had then opted to repay her by reinstated her as Ashford Armories' head engineer. She had then risen through the ranks like a rocket on its way to the Moon, piling promotions with no end in sight. Another thing he liked in her was her sarcastic way to gaze at the world. Their respective attitudes easily connected and social barriers soon crumbled to allow a more relaxed relationship. No longer between prince and half-aristocrat but from genius to genius.
"Ever the charmer. How many girls have you smitten with that smile of yours?"
"I don't count the bodies anymore," Lelouch joked. "But my love life is, I assure you, very boring."
"But I thought you said the Palace was an interesting place in terms of human natures," the Indian-born scientist asked with mock disappointment. He had offered her the title of Countess for Exceptional Services Given to the Country but, to his surprise, she had vehemently turned down the offer. Somehow she bore a strong distaste for the strange creatures scuttling around the Imperial Throne like frenzied bugs and she was unable to bear that ilk's presence and company.
"Yes, but the gems you find there are beautiful in a deceitful way, Professor. I'm not interested in those, no matter how beautiful the exterior."
Rakshata nodded, fully agreeing with the prince. A bystander would have gawked in befuddlement and outrage at the familiarity she entertained with the Black Prince and the casualness with which they spoke but neither of them truly made anything serious of it. Admonishing the Ice Lord was, according to most nobles, as safe, as drinking liquid sakuradite. "That's very interesting, but I imagine you aren't only here to take a look at your newest steed?" she gestured with her cigarette holder at the incomplete Mordred below. She was one of the very few persons he had allowed to smoke in his presence without asking for permission first. Helping distressed princes made for nice, belated privileges.
"I'd just like to ask you to see Nunnally one of these days. Not only would she be delighted to meet you again but I'd also want to see whether her health hasn't suffered from the recent temperature drop."
Rakshata nodded, her demeanor now much more sober. Nunnally being the Black Prince's most treasured possession was no one's secret and she knew all too well the devotion both siblings shared for each other. Whenever she had come for cybernetic therapy, the young royal would be there to support his younger sister and bring her comfort. A touching picture it was, for those who could tolerate shows of affection and weakness at the Palace. "I'll come as soon as my agenda allows me. It's true that such bad weather can only have bad effects on her, so I'll try to make haste as much as possible."
"You have my gratitude," he murmured gravely.
"I can't refuse you that, you know," Rakshata reminded him. "You're the one who allowed me to implement my theories of biotechnology on Knightmare Frame research and development. It'd have taken me years to return to anyone's graces and you alone offered the chance to prove myself. Had it not been for you, I wouldn't be where I stand now."
"I know," Lelouch nodded.
"And besides, it allows me to rub it in that dork Lloyd Asplund's face - and those are moments that are so priceless I could die on the spot, in utter bliss and without the faintest regret," she chuckled, her exotic accent resurfacing. Lelouch knew all too well of the rivalry between her and the 'Pudding Earl' (or so she liked to call him). Although they had attended the same university, both had parted paths due to contradicting opinions and joined different companies: she had been drafted in by the Ashford Foundation, while he had chosen the Schneizel Institute of Electronics, one of Britannia's most prized actors on the military market.
Lelouch laughed out loud - a rare occurrence for those who knew him.
"Then I shall be expecting your visit, Professor and I hope to hear from you soon. I'm afraid I'll have to cut this visit short as other appointments await me."
"Do as you please, Your Highness. This place is your place, remember?"
"Always, my dear Professor. Always," he said with a smirk. Moments later, he was stepping outside with his aide de camp, his thoughts preoccupied by mathematical and financial figures he needed to analyze himself. Most of his assistants handled the paperwork in his stead, but he still demanded to be appraised of his own affairs' details and proceedings. It helped him better comprehend the situation rather than listening to second-hand, dumbed-down accounts.
He drew his black cloak closer to his body and watched as the limousine drew to a stop in front of the stairs. From the corner of his eye, he could see a group of reporters standing behind the gates and snapping pictures of him. The population was especially voracious of Imperial Household-related news and specialized magazines sold out extremely fast. Especially when the Family's most eligible bachelors were featured in a special edition for the gossip-hungry masses. And for that matter, the 88th Emperor had certainly done his homework, Lelouch groused bitterly. He had managed to make the world hang at the edge of his lips and hearken unto his very words as God himself was speaking to all insignificant mortals. An example for society, maybe, but what type of country could learn and feed off of a man as twisted as his own father? Cynical thoughts continued to plague his mind as the car pulled through the main gate. The soft smile he offered the journalists was as fake as a one billion pound note.
And they drove back to the palace, ignoring the hordes of admirers standing on the sidewalk to catch a glimpse of the infamous Black Prince, the rising star of Britannia.
The black sheep turned prodigy.
~OoO~
Putting Nunnally to bed was a ceremony he had never missed once in seven years. There were nurses and other ladies-in-waiting who could handle the job with equal expertise but that part of her life was the only one he jealously kept for himself. It helped him remember why he was driving himself into a world of hatred and coldness. Euphemia usually kept her half-sister company for the better part of the day but even she needed some time alone or away. Other siblings like Clovis or Schneizel dropped by, but her smile was always brightest when she recognized Lelouch's footsteps from afar.
He had already cried all the tears in his body years ago, when his mother had died before his eyes, but whenever she'd hold his hand and say that she was happy to be with him, his eyes started stinging with pain and hurting joy. Those few minutes spent at her bedside were the only moments he'd allow himself to be human once again. Not for himself, but for her.
"I trust you had a good day?" he asked gently, almost fearful that raising his voice would make her lose her desire to rest and get better. "Tell me about it."
Nunnally's head turned towards her brother's, a tiny smile gracing her pink lips. Even in her crippled state, she still managed to keep that cheerful mood of hers, a miracle Lelouch would be forever grateful for.
"Miss Lilian read me one of the books - you know, the Knights of the Round Table - and then we had a stroll in the gardens, as always. They cut the hydrangea, you know. The gardeners said they weren't in good health anymore and needed to be replaced. I think I smelled white roses instead but I forgot to ask." Her small fingers intertwined with Lelouch, the frailty of her body painfully apparent. He said nothing, preferring to let talk and enjoy the ability to share experiences with others. With the loss of her sight and her ability to walk, her list of possible distractions had grown despairingly short and the nurses always came up with new ways to entertain her. Whether it was listening to the radio or offering her a book written in Braille, nothing was too good to make her happy.
"Wonderful. I will inquire on my way back and I shall tell you tomorrow, is that alright?" She nodded, her hand clasping his in the silent acquiescence of a promise. "But isn't that book, the Knights of the Round Table, too...adult, too violent for you? I could always bring you one of those works you like, like that-"
"No, no, no, brother," Nunnally protested, her white forehead creasing in innocent refusal, "it is alright. I do enjoy the tales of Knight Lancelot and his comrades-in-arms, and it helps me learn more about the country's history. Please..."
It was at times like this that his iron-clad heart wanted desperately to melt into a pile of goo. He had never refused her any desire, even the smallest, for fear that she become miserable. Seeing her half-naked in the hospital, her face twisted in pain and misery, had marked him forever.
"Okay, then, I will let you continue. Did Clovis come to see you?"
"Oh, yes, I forgot," she exclaimed, waving her other hand in excitation. Her smile instantly grew larger whenever one of her relative went to spend some time with her and for a fleeting second, Lelouch's heart sang with slight jealousy. At least, he thought to himself, it was for her own welfare.
And with that, Nunnally launched herself in a long narrative of her activities with 'Brother Clovis'. The ensuing discussion lasted for a solid half-hour before she was convinced to go to sleep and take some rest.
~OoO~
Lelouch returned to his bedroom an exhausted man, the imaginary weight on his shoulders excruciating and threatening to break his innermost resolve. It took some effort to remove his heavy overcoat, undo his pleated scarf and unbutton his shirt. Dressing up and down were both activities he preferred to do himself. After his demise at the court, his life as a pampered, protected successor had crashed to a stop, replaced by a hard struggle to stand up for himself. One of the first things he had learnt was to groom himself correctly without any help - and even to this day, as the forlorn prosperity timidly came back dose by dose, he remained adamant on this small ritual. He dropped his garments on a nearby dresser and staggered towards the bed, his sore body called forth by the appealing softness of the silken sheets.
He was about to throw himself on the mattress when a strange feeling overtook him, causing the hair at the back of his neck to stand up, as if electrified.
His vision floated a scant second and he vaguely felt as if his entire body was resonating with some chime struck far, far away. Green sparks of light swirled before his eyes, aggregating to form a human silhouette - a ghostly apparition that briefly glowed brightly before fading to inexistence.
His mind racing at the unexplainable vision, Lelouch slowly but surely turned back, a deep sense of foreboding dawning on him. It was then that a gentle breeze tickled his cheek, telling him that the room's window had, in the meantime, opened and ushered the midnight air in. His heart beating like a drum, Lelouch slowly looked up, at the darkened skies hanging beyond his room.
It was then that he noticed, within the silent shadows, the two golden eyes staring directly at him.
To be continued.
~OoO~
Notes: I know 'Nunnally' is spelled 'Nanaly'. But I don't care - we at the CG forums spent enough time changing the spellings we end up sticking to those we chose for the time being. So please bear with it, all you little nitpickers out there. You'll see other smallish discrepancies such as this one or 'Rakshata' (as opposed to the popular 'Laksharta') from time to time, but nothing big. I'll nevertheless force myself to keep true to each character's persona, as faithfully as humanly possible.
"...the rage and hatred the Black Prince could muster..." is a reference to Tom Clancy's Executive Orders. Cookies to those who can find it. Ain't that hard, anyway.
I know I repeat myself a lot when I describe Lelouch's martyr as an outcast. But I needed to introduce some background behind Lelouch's gradual rise as a powerful contender in the succession battle. It should nevertheless be observed that even now, he is not exactly the mascot of the court. People are still indecisive towards him and only fear motivates them to acknowledge his authority. He might be as famous as Schneizel but his chances at getting the throne are definitely lower.
As a side note, English might be my mothertongue, but it's no longer my first language. So bear with me if certain sentences might sound weird, overlong or awkward - I'm trying to sound as natural as possible, believe me. It also didn't help that I did the final check at 3:20am so certain errors and discrepancies might have gone unnoticed.
This chapter offers more narration than actual talk, I know. But that should change shortly.
Alrighty, end of first chapter. Lights out, see you later.
End of chapter 01 Part 02.
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Chapter 01: Tangents
Part 02
Click here to read Part 01.
Carlisle had not yet returned from his assignment, much to Lelouch's disappointment. The young lad had to run in every direction just to do his Lord's bidding, with a ridiculous care to do things by the book with impeccable care and form. When asked why he ran his secretary through such a cruel wringer, the Prince usually replied, 'he lacks some muscle and endurance. Some training will do him some good."
In a way, it reminded him of his own, erstwhile relationship with Cornelia - that of a mentor and its student. What Carlisle lacked was ruggedness and reality; the first time they had met, the young recruit had been too neatly groomed, too jumpy, too attached to perfection and too eager to provide information right out of the military academy's manuals. Ever since, Lelouch had made it a point to destroy that infuriating, clean-cut personality of his and shape it into a more realistic, dirty-handed figure.
I guess I'll cut him some slack, Lelouch thought. Next week will be even more hectic for him.
He used the service bell to summon a servant and called for the current head of security.
"What news of the intruder," he asked briskly, his mind roiling with possibilities. Like a famous fictional detective invented a century ago, he loved making deductions and solving mysteries his own way. "I trust he has been caught, detained and dealt with?"
The kneeling guard gulped and gathered his strength to finish his report.
"He hasn't," Lelouch said for him. He didn't even bother punishing the man; it wasn't because he somehow knew it wasn't the poor soul's fault or because it was utterly pointless, but rather that he had already turned towards other possibilities. An intruder in my grounds. The question is: what was he or she doing here? This sector is the most guarded of all and no infiltrator would have been stupid or brazen enough to take the hardest road to inside the Palace. In other words, I was the objective.
He dismissed the heavily sweating guard and glared at his teacup. It wasn't hard to actually guess why someone would try to sneak in; even though his subjects feared him to an extent, he was genuinely dangerous to the topmost strata of society. The succession line was complicated in a twisted way; not only did the royal candidates have to be pure-blooded to ascend to the throne but they also had to be older than the rest. While the sex didn't matter, the third factor was even harder to fill in: power and fame. Handicapped by both birthright and age, he had to make up by gaining as much authority as possible. Thanks to the Area 17 campaign, he had managed to rise high enough to challenge Prince Schneizel, but certainly not enough to be on par with the Firstborn Heir, Odysseus. It was nevertheless enough to give a whip-like message to the court: do not, ever, look down on me again. I'm the one holding right of life and death over you now.
I'm the one wielding power and the right to judge, now.
Beware.
Power was indeed a tasty fruit to be nibbled on and not devoured with voracity. Its flavor was enthralling, addictive, but it quickly lost its sweetness when the price paid was too bitter. In Lelouch's case, the fee came with a broken childhood and a mountain of slander and mocking whispers sent his way. Gaining authority in the Palace was as safe and easy as running the marathon through a minefield. Like a double-edged blade, power was prompt to hurt its owner when wielded incorrectly. A true sword of Damocles in its own right.
The warnings Cornelia had issued him were great in wisdom and patience. And sure enough, they proved useful the moment he made his comeback on a scene he thought to have vacated forever. But the risks didn't stop there. The world constantly changed and thriving in it implied making concessions or always taking the initiative. Lelouch had perfected his mastery in being proactive but his early years nearly cost him dear. At one particular moment, it had nary cost him his life.
The Knightmare Frame screeched to a stop as plumes of dust exploded all around him. His aides had vehemently opposed the idea of having a Britannian Prince acting as a first-line strike force but Lelouch's own determination had outlasted their disapproval. He had always stuck to the belief that a king was to lead the pawns lest nothing move at all. This school of thought certainly brought violent protests from even the most seasoned tacticians. However, the stakes were high enough to justify some of the risks he was currently taking.
Should he succeed, he'd be hailed a hero. Should he fail, everyone would be quick to bury him as a discreet footnote to history.
It was hard to miss the black-colored, spindly RPI-17 Galahad zigzagging on the battlefield, daring the enemy lines to lay a finger on it. Everybody knew that the sixth-generation machine was superior to all other models currently fielded but the idea of killing such a prestigious unit won over the Cambodian troops' indecision. Heavy fire started to rain around the Galahad, forcing its pilot to find refuge behind a rocky hillside. A series of smoke grenades erupted from the backpack, blanketing the nearby rice fields with a thick, white haze. Lelouch used the cover to creep forwards, keeping himself well away from the enemy's line of sight. He took the opportunity to run uphill and fire upon the heaviest targets he could see. As soon as the brief moment of surprise was gone, replaced by fury at being toyed with, the shelling resumed and forced the young Prince to follow a random trajectory rather than making a beeline for the enemy stronghold.
As soon as he had confirmed that all cannons were aimed at him and furiously trying to gun him down, he pushed a small button on his heads-up display. The electronic box promptly sent a high-pitched signal through the atmosphere. And while the coded message back was sent back to the mission coordinator, he charged towards the Cambodians, firing all the way up. Tracers surrounded his frame, arcing through the air in deadly waltzes and seeking their goal with ruthless determination. The Galahad suddenly stumbled as an artillery round detonated a few meters in front of its left foot. The Knightmare Frame teetered dangerously, much to its pilot's alarm, then fell forwards. It was only by pure chance that he managed to bring a knee up to avert his fall. But the damage had been done - the sixth-generation machine was now immobile, a sitting duck for the Cambodian gunners waiting in the nearby trenches. Throughout his headset, a fifteen year-old Lelouch could almost hear a cheer rise from his enemies' positions.
He gritted his teeth, furious against his predicament and enraged at his own helplessness. Nunnally's face flashed in his mind, as she silently resigned himself to a doom devoid of glory. And even as he raised his head to look at his opponents straight in the eye, his eyes retained a look of pure defiance.
It was then that the first Cambodian tank from the back lines disappeared in a torrent of fire. And soon, more followed the same fate, each vanishing in spheres of smoke and smoldering metal.
Lelouch's shoulders sagged as he realized that his plan had, in the long run, worked successfully. Using himself as decoy for a discreet pincer maneuver was a masterpiece of strategy but a nightmare for the generals back at headquarters. His boldness was not universally appreciated but all knew that his plans were most foolproof and no sacrifice conceded was without greater compensation. Knowing that his role was over, he carefully brought the Galahad back on its feet and prudently retreated from the chaotic battlefield. It was time to stand down and watch the already established outcome.
Five minutes later, the battle was over and the landscape littered with smoking wrecks. The Galahad stopped to a kneeling position, just as a familiar, horned Gloucester pulled to his side, its jousting lance covered in soot and lube oil from felled vehicles.
"I can't believe how reckless you were, Lelouch! This was not bravery but pure madness!" Cornelia shouted at him over the radio. She was definitely seething with disappointment and shock, but a hint of elation at seeing him safe and sound could be felt between her words. "You could have died a dozen times with those last moves!"
"I should remark that thanks to my recklessness, we have won, sister. My strategy did prevail," the younger soldier pointed out, feeling the need to defend himself. They might have different philosophies on how to wage wars but both prized efficiency and intelligence first and foremost. "There is no way one can win without taking some risks to make the success worthwhile."
"There is no meaning in victory if you are no longer there to celebrate it!" she kept on berating him, her knuckles white with consternation. No Imperial Child below a certain age and level of expertise would have been allowed to consort with death so daringly, even if he was nothing but a half-forgotten outcast, a disgraced royal spawn. But that hardly mattered now. Lelouch had not lost any of his impetuosity and determination to win battles on his own terms; notions such as death or maiming seemed too remote to him for her taste. It was almost as if it was okay for him to die, as he had very little left back home. He was not suicidal but his temerity was so great it blurred the lines between irresponsibility and dedication. It was her fault, she realized. She thought providing a more idealistic account of fighting could return him to the norms but it appeared as if she had overdone her impression on him. It was time she rectified the problem and started teaching him some restraint.
"I admit defeat, sister," the young caporal conceded. "You're right. No meaning whatsoever."
Cornelia didn't know by then that her sibling had already committed the lesson to memory, his cold logic prevailing over his fearless drive. Had she known that right then, she would have spared him the next week's worth of lectures on moderation and wisdom.
"Your Highness," a young maid quietly announced from the doorway, interrupting his flashback. "His Highness Prince Clovis had requested an audience with you."
"Let him in, then, miss," Lelouch answered, his forehead now creased. Clovis was one of his twenty-odd half-brothers as well as one of those he liked less, or so he claimed. Despite what he usually told his entourage, the Black Prince entertained a dual relationship with his older relative, a mix of friendliness and rivalry. A more informed soul like Euphemia or Cornelia could have confirmed that, despite appearances, there were actually no bad feelings between the two of them. They just constantly competed with each other in games such as chess or other intellectual contests. They had never come to blows, merely a rougher version of brotherly ribbing. To make things even clearer about their relationship, close family friends were quick to point out that Clovis was one of those that had never ostracized Lelouch after Marianne's death, always willing to paying him a visit to keep his spirits high.
It wasn't long before the doors opened anew, letting a young man bedecked in royal blue step in.
"Hello, Clovis, are you here to lose another match?" Lelouch smirked, enjoying the flash of irritation in his brother's eyes. Although timid, the older prince had a major weakness: a deep sense of narcissism. Clovis stuck his nose in a sign of defiance. "For your information, I'm not here to play, Lelouch. The alarms have kept me up for the better part of the night thanks to your guards' excessive amount of zeal."
"I cannot replace lost sleep, dear brother, but I can offer excuses if that is what you want. However, the one giving them should not be me," Lelouch said off-handedly. "But rather the one who triggered the alarms."
"An intruder?" Clovis' eyebrows tufted higher on his forehead. "In Aries Palace? Nobody has tried that-"
"For seven years, if that is what you mean to say," Lelouch completed with a sharp edge to his tone. Clovis' half-opened mouth shut with an audible click. Everyone save the almighty Emperor himself knew better than bring up that topic. All knew the rage and hatred the Black Prince could muster on a bad day and few were those who would feel brave enough to meet it head-on. "But the culprit has not been apprehended, which is why the guard scoured the entire propriety. Since all of our lives are at stake," he added with a barely detectable ounce of irony, "consider it a free service sent your way."
"More like a nuisance, but I'd still thank you for your concern," Clovis begrudgingly returned. "What about Nunnally?"
"She slept through the entire thing as if nothing had happened. The staff has proved its competence too many times already for me to worry about it today. I saw her this morning and she hadn't even noticed there had been a security breach until one of the servants informed her of it. She was more concerned about my safety than hers, if you can believe it," Lelouch muttered, his coldness melting snow beneath the sun. Even Clovis lost, for a single second, his own animosity. Both were particularly protective of their physically impaired sibling.
"I'll visit her this afternoon if it doesn't bother her," the long-haired Prince sighed. "As for you, I suggest you do not do anything that'd put you in harm's way - at times you do things that make me think you actually wish to be attacked."
"Such concern honors you," Lelouch said with a smile that however didn't speak of gentleness. "But I know how to look after myself."
"I'll take my leave, then," Clovis sighed with aggravated resignation.
Clovis bowed slightly and walked out, his cape trailing beside him. As soon as the door clicked shut, Lelouch's smile collapsed into a mask of annoyance. Clovis was one of those he had written off his list of people to investigate shortly after Marianne's assassination. Although obnoxious and excessively prideful, he had a good soul, like a good half of the other Imperial Children. No matter how hard Lelouch thought about it, Clovis definitely lacked a motive to kill the Empress. His good relationship with her small clan had convinced Lelouch, in the simplest manner possible, that his older half-brother could not be the one he had been looking for, for seven long years. Other names, like Cornelia's or Euphemia's, had already been crossed out, but the subtraction didn't decrease the list of possible masterminds by much.
Lelouch's education as a Royal Prince had been axed on three priorities: first, he was to learn how to reign as a true heir, second, he was to regain his lost status with his own strength and third, it was to better know those who might have been his mother's murderers. Playing games of influence with the most dangerous members of the Palace's community had brought much information to his hungry, ever-gauging mind.
Cursing under his breath, Lelouch checked his watch and scowled at the reading. He was going to be late for his monthly inspection of the Ashford Armories.
He walked to a nearby wardrobe and retrieved a long, tweed overcoat, which he fastened around his slender body. He rang the bell next to the table and requested his cape. Days such as these were hectic, often with very little time left for welcome distractions. The rituals he performed on a daily basis asked for great endurance but it was a price he was willing to pay. He called for his military aide de camp and immediately made for the doors, his mind already elsewhere.
He didn't notice the pair of golden eyes examining him from behind a tapestry, following every step of his with renewed interest.
~OoO~
The Ashford Armories had been brutally shut seven years ago when the Foundation had gone bankrupt. Their champion, Marianne the Flash, had died along with the financial and administrative support she had provided, and much of the shares had been dilapidated by the proverbial rats fleeing the sinking ship. The hardware and ground properties had been seized and sold in other to repay the contracted debts. In a matter of weeks, nobody with enough wealth to buy stocks on the market wanted to be associated with the once flourishing name of Ashford. It had taken Lelouch much thinking and money to resurrect the disgraced company from its ashes. Reuben Ashford, the former CEO, was still living in exile in Japan, but had allowed the Black Prince to try the impossible. Thankfully, rebuilding the organization from scratch had been easier than everyone had previously thought. Cornelia herself had helped attract investors and the booming Knightmare Frame industry had allotted the revived Armories with some trust. The Black Prince's name made for even better incentives to pour money in the growing business.
Three years later, the industry had return to a full-fledged state and the crest of the Ashford Clan once again gloriously peered out at the world, marking Lelouch's first significant victory as an actor on the private, financial scene. The clan patriarch had literally cried tears of joy when the first millions of revenues flowed in. Even though the Emperor's word couldn't be rescinded without much fighting and concessions, the genial old man had resigned himself to look at his own growing fortune from afar. Lelouch nevertheless made sure to make the money available even overseas. From what he had heard, the once famous Ashford Parties were now becoming popular in Tokyo.
"The Mordred's torso is still under revision, Your Highness," the head engineer announced, more concerned than contrite. Even though he showed mercy and generosity towards those who helped and trusted him unconditionally, the Black Prince's reputation still made many shiver in fear and morbid expectation. "The new Core was finished last week and we chose to install it rather than the older version."
"Then why are you apologizing?" Lelouch snapped. "If it means better performances, then get it done as I expect it to be."
He looked upwards and watched as the black and red frame was delicately lowered to the ground, its half-completed chest unit still wrapped in wires and electronic boxes. Technicians ran abuzz around the prototype, bringing tools and equipment for the next step of assembly. A fitting name, Lelouch decided after a casual overlook of the incomplete machine. Mordred was, according to the legends of old, the illegitimate son of the legendary King Arthur as well as his final enemy. He would eventually bring destruction to the entire kingdom, after suffering from the ignominy of his twisted childhood. Somehow it seemed to Lelouch as if a voice of the past had stirred from its sleep and sent painful echoes through his heart.
He turned to the colonel standing a few steps behind and spoke up, "I need you to meet the other engineers and schedule a possible date for the field testing. I want to see whether all of this has finally borne fruit. Have it settled at a convenient moment - it must not interfere with my other meetings in any sort. It must also make some room for any other, unexpected happenings."
"Yes, Your Highness," the aide almost mechanically replied, before snapping his heels and turning around to execute his orders. The Black Prince followed his subordinates' movements with dispassionate eyes, not even impressed with how instantly the command had been obeyed. Things like these had become an immutable part of his life.
"Fancy meeting you here, Your Highness," a melodious voice cheerfully sang from behind. Lelouch raised an eyebrow, easily recognizing its owner.
"Professor Chawla - how delightful to meet you here."
Tradition and etiquette commanded that she be the one to give a curtsey but as always, Lelouch transgressed the rules and kissed her hand instead. Shows of such gallantry were only genuine when expressed to those he held close to his heart - and Rakshata Chawla was, against many assumptions, one of them. Seven years ago, Lelouch had sought her out to take a look at Nunnally's body and try to find a better therapy. While his beloved younger sister had still not regained the use of her legs, she no longer felt any discomfort in her body's lower parts. Lelouch, eternally grateful for her services, had then opted to repay her by reinstated her as Ashford Armories' head engineer. She had then risen through the ranks like a rocket on its way to the Moon, piling promotions with no end in sight. Another thing he liked in her was her sarcastic way to gaze at the world. Their respective attitudes easily connected and social barriers soon crumbled to allow a more relaxed relationship. No longer between prince and half-aristocrat but from genius to genius.
"Ever the charmer. How many girls have you smitten with that smile of yours?"
"I don't count the bodies anymore," Lelouch joked. "But my love life is, I assure you, very boring."
"But I thought you said the Palace was an interesting place in terms of human natures," the Indian-born scientist asked with mock disappointment. He had offered her the title of Countess for Exceptional Services Given to the Country but, to his surprise, she had vehemently turned down the offer. Somehow she bore a strong distaste for the strange creatures scuttling around the Imperial Throne like frenzied bugs and she was unable to bear that ilk's presence and company.
"Yes, but the gems you find there are beautiful in a deceitful way, Professor. I'm not interested in those, no matter how beautiful the exterior."
Rakshata nodded, fully agreeing with the prince. A bystander would have gawked in befuddlement and outrage at the familiarity she entertained with the Black Prince and the casualness with which they spoke but neither of them truly made anything serious of it. Admonishing the Ice Lord was, according to most nobles, as safe, as drinking liquid sakuradite. "That's very interesting, but I imagine you aren't only here to take a look at your newest steed?" she gestured with her cigarette holder at the incomplete Mordred below. She was one of the very few persons he had allowed to smoke in his presence without asking for permission first. Helping distressed princes made for nice, belated privileges.
"I'd just like to ask you to see Nunnally one of these days. Not only would she be delighted to meet you again but I'd also want to see whether her health hasn't suffered from the recent temperature drop."
Rakshata nodded, her demeanor now much more sober. Nunnally being the Black Prince's most treasured possession was no one's secret and she knew all too well the devotion both siblings shared for each other. Whenever she had come for cybernetic therapy, the young royal would be there to support his younger sister and bring her comfort. A touching picture it was, for those who could tolerate shows of affection and weakness at the Palace. "I'll come as soon as my agenda allows me. It's true that such bad weather can only have bad effects on her, so I'll try to make haste as much as possible."
"You have my gratitude," he murmured gravely.
"I can't refuse you that, you know," Rakshata reminded him. "You're the one who allowed me to implement my theories of biotechnology on Knightmare Frame research and development. It'd have taken me years to return to anyone's graces and you alone offered the chance to prove myself. Had it not been for you, I wouldn't be where I stand now."
"I know," Lelouch nodded.
"And besides, it allows me to rub it in that dork Lloyd Asplund's face - and those are moments that are so priceless I could die on the spot, in utter bliss and without the faintest regret," she chuckled, her exotic accent resurfacing. Lelouch knew all too well of the rivalry between her and the 'Pudding Earl' (or so she liked to call him). Although they had attended the same university, both had parted paths due to contradicting opinions and joined different companies: she had been drafted in by the Ashford Foundation, while he had chosen the Schneizel Institute of Electronics, one of Britannia's most prized actors on the military market.
Lelouch laughed out loud - a rare occurrence for those who knew him.
"Then I shall be expecting your visit, Professor and I hope to hear from you soon. I'm afraid I'll have to cut this visit short as other appointments await me."
"Do as you please, Your Highness. This place is your place, remember?"
"Always, my dear Professor. Always," he said with a smirk. Moments later, he was stepping outside with his aide de camp, his thoughts preoccupied by mathematical and financial figures he needed to analyze himself. Most of his assistants handled the paperwork in his stead, but he still demanded to be appraised of his own affairs' details and proceedings. It helped him better comprehend the situation rather than listening to second-hand, dumbed-down accounts.
He drew his black cloak closer to his body and watched as the limousine drew to a stop in front of the stairs. From the corner of his eye, he could see a group of reporters standing behind the gates and snapping pictures of him. The population was especially voracious of Imperial Household-related news and specialized magazines sold out extremely fast. Especially when the Family's most eligible bachelors were featured in a special edition for the gossip-hungry masses. And for that matter, the 88th Emperor had certainly done his homework, Lelouch groused bitterly. He had managed to make the world hang at the edge of his lips and hearken unto his very words as God himself was speaking to all insignificant mortals. An example for society, maybe, but what type of country could learn and feed off of a man as twisted as his own father? Cynical thoughts continued to plague his mind as the car pulled through the main gate. The soft smile he offered the journalists was as fake as a one billion pound note.
And they drove back to the palace, ignoring the hordes of admirers standing on the sidewalk to catch a glimpse of the infamous Black Prince, the rising star of Britannia.
The black sheep turned prodigy.
~OoO~
Putting Nunnally to bed was a ceremony he had never missed once in seven years. There were nurses and other ladies-in-waiting who could handle the job with equal expertise but that part of her life was the only one he jealously kept for himself. It helped him remember why he was driving himself into a world of hatred and coldness. Euphemia usually kept her half-sister company for the better part of the day but even she needed some time alone or away. Other siblings like Clovis or Schneizel dropped by, but her smile was always brightest when she recognized Lelouch's footsteps from afar.
He had already cried all the tears in his body years ago, when his mother had died before his eyes, but whenever she'd hold his hand and say that she was happy to be with him, his eyes started stinging with pain and hurting joy. Those few minutes spent at her bedside were the only moments he'd allow himself to be human once again. Not for himself, but for her.
"I trust you had a good day?" he asked gently, almost fearful that raising his voice would make her lose her desire to rest and get better. "Tell me about it."
Nunnally's head turned towards her brother's, a tiny smile gracing her pink lips. Even in her crippled state, she still managed to keep that cheerful mood of hers, a miracle Lelouch would be forever grateful for.
"Miss Lilian read me one of the books - you know, the Knights of the Round Table - and then we had a stroll in the gardens, as always. They cut the hydrangea, you know. The gardeners said they weren't in good health anymore and needed to be replaced. I think I smelled white roses instead but I forgot to ask." Her small fingers intertwined with Lelouch, the frailty of her body painfully apparent. He said nothing, preferring to let talk and enjoy the ability to share experiences with others. With the loss of her sight and her ability to walk, her list of possible distractions had grown despairingly short and the nurses always came up with new ways to entertain her. Whether it was listening to the radio or offering her a book written in Braille, nothing was too good to make her happy.
"Wonderful. I will inquire on my way back and I shall tell you tomorrow, is that alright?" She nodded, her hand clasping his in the silent acquiescence of a promise. "But isn't that book, the Knights of the Round Table, too...adult, too violent for you? I could always bring you one of those works you like, like that-"
"No, no, no, brother," Nunnally protested, her white forehead creasing in innocent refusal, "it is alright. I do enjoy the tales of Knight Lancelot and his comrades-in-arms, and it helps me learn more about the country's history. Please..."
It was at times like this that his iron-clad heart wanted desperately to melt into a pile of goo. He had never refused her any desire, even the smallest, for fear that she become miserable. Seeing her half-naked in the hospital, her face twisted in pain and misery, had marked him forever.
"Okay, then, I will let you continue. Did Clovis come to see you?"
"Oh, yes, I forgot," she exclaimed, waving her other hand in excitation. Her smile instantly grew larger whenever one of her relative went to spend some time with her and for a fleeting second, Lelouch's heart sang with slight jealousy. At least, he thought to himself, it was for her own welfare.
And with that, Nunnally launched herself in a long narrative of her activities with 'Brother Clovis'. The ensuing discussion lasted for a solid half-hour before she was convinced to go to sleep and take some rest.
~OoO~
Lelouch returned to his bedroom an exhausted man, the imaginary weight on his shoulders excruciating and threatening to break his innermost resolve. It took some effort to remove his heavy overcoat, undo his pleated scarf and unbutton his shirt. Dressing up and down were both activities he preferred to do himself. After his demise at the court, his life as a pampered, protected successor had crashed to a stop, replaced by a hard struggle to stand up for himself. One of the first things he had learnt was to groom himself correctly without any help - and even to this day, as the forlorn prosperity timidly came back dose by dose, he remained adamant on this small ritual. He dropped his garments on a nearby dresser and staggered towards the bed, his sore body called forth by the appealing softness of the silken sheets.
He was about to throw himself on the mattress when a strange feeling overtook him, causing the hair at the back of his neck to stand up, as if electrified.
His vision floated a scant second and he vaguely felt as if his entire body was resonating with some chime struck far, far away. Green sparks of light swirled before his eyes, aggregating to form a human silhouette - a ghostly apparition that briefly glowed brightly before fading to inexistence.
His mind racing at the unexplainable vision, Lelouch slowly but surely turned back, a deep sense of foreboding dawning on him. It was then that a gentle breeze tickled his cheek, telling him that the room's window had, in the meantime, opened and ushered the midnight air in. His heart beating like a drum, Lelouch slowly looked up, at the darkened skies hanging beyond his room.
It was then that he noticed, within the silent shadows, the two golden eyes staring directly at him.
To be continued.
~OoO~
Notes: I know 'Nunnally' is spelled 'Nanaly'. But I don't care - we at the CG forums spent enough time changing the spellings we end up sticking to those we chose for the time being. So please bear with it, all you little nitpickers out there. You'll see other smallish discrepancies such as this one or 'Rakshata' (as opposed to the popular 'Laksharta') from time to time, but nothing big. I'll nevertheless force myself to keep true to each character's persona, as faithfully as humanly possible.
"...the rage and hatred the Black Prince could muster..." is a reference to Tom Clancy's Executive Orders. Cookies to those who can find it. Ain't that hard, anyway.
I know I repeat myself a lot when I describe Lelouch's martyr as an outcast. But I needed to introduce some background behind Lelouch's gradual rise as a powerful contender in the succession battle. It should nevertheless be observed that even now, he is not exactly the mascot of the court. People are still indecisive towards him and only fear motivates them to acknowledge his authority. He might be as famous as Schneizel but his chances at getting the throne are definitely lower.
As a side note, English might be my mothertongue, but it's no longer my first language. So bear with me if certain sentences might sound weird, overlong or awkward - I'm trying to sound as natural as possible, believe me. It also didn't help that I did the final check at 3:20am so certain errors and discrepancies might have gone unnoticed.
This chapter offers more narration than actual talk, I know. But that should change shortly.
Alrighty, end of first chapter. Lights out, see you later.
End of chapter 01 Part 02.
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