A/N: I realize that (for those who actually like my writing and are following other stories of mine) you are most likely panicking. Because I uploaded another story. I've always said that writing a story is like raising a child. You need to nurture them, to watch over them, you want to see them grow and succeed and fulfill the best potential they have. And I know how hectic it can be writing numerou stories at once. I promise you, this one will be short. I just needed an outlet while writing (finally) the 23rd chapter of The Crazy Coup. I hope you'll like it, anyways.
Disclaimer: Code Geass is not my property.
Julius Kingsley, one of the most celebrated and brilliant strategists of his time, who served the omnipotent and holy Empire of Britannia, leaned casually against the stone railing of the balcony, enjoying the evening air that was heavily scented with aristocratic perfume and deceit.
He was decidedly bored with the glamorous façade the Euro-Britannian nobles put on. He had seen through their mediocre acts within the first five minutes of stepping into the well-lit and opulent chateau, although he admitted to himself that, despite irritating him, he was somewhat amused as he carefully and silently looked on from the sidelines.
'Why,' he idly wondered, 'do they even bother?'
Voices from below floated up to him, unexpected, as he had presumed that all party guests, save for himself, would be inside, playing at petty political games. Peering down, he could see a boy and a girl, blue-haired and blonde respectively, that seemed to be, more or less, the age of his own.
Their crisp blue uniforms told him that they were a part of E.U. military force, and judging from the decoration glinting on the fair-haired's martial ensemble, it became apparent to him that he was in the presence of a Major.
He chuckled to himself; perhaps he should salute her, as she was his senior in military rank.
'But never in cunning and intellect… Right, Julius?'
His right eye narrowed, the singular violet iris marred with suspicion and discontent.
It didn't sound right.
The name.
Julius.
Had he always been Julius?
The denomination, the distinction, the title he called his own, felt as if it were a flimsy sheet of tarp, this identity, veiling a secret.
An enormous, delicious secret, one that had such potency that even his Majesty, the mighty Emperor of Britannia, would be weary of.
Unfortunately, the tarp was held down by cinder blocks twice his weight, lining all sides, effectively making it impossible for him to see the truth that was so cautiously concealed, and although he knew what he would find underneath could, nay, would grant him the ingresses of worlds even he couldn't imagine…
He confessed that he didn't exactly know what the hidden treasure was.
Ah, but this was why it intrigued him so.
That puzzle, he eventually concluded for the evening, was for another day, another time, when he had less pressing matters. And so, he dismissed it from his mind to relieve himself of the task at hand.
Delicately setting down the empty champagne flute he had been toying with, he glanced behind him through the open double French doors, before vaulting onto the marble balustrade. Sauntering down the length, when he reached the end, he paused briefly, as if gathering momentum, before leaping off.
Sailing through the air, he roughly caught the opposing ledge, his ebony boots scrabbling brutally against the coarse stone. He hoisted himself up into the safety of secure flooring beneath his feet, laboriously breathing.
He had never been one for physical exertion.
Upon collecting his elegance and composure, he set about deftly picking the lock of the glass balcony doors. Satisfactorily hearing the sound of the bolt sliding away, Julius slipped inside briskly, the only trace of his being there the slightly disturbed air.
It was a bedroom.
A luxurious and well-furnished one at that, the raven-haired man observed, his opinion drawn upon what he could see in the dim lighting the full moon outside gave him.
Silk wallpaper the color of ivory gloated the room's ridiculous extravagance, offsetting the furniture that were varying shades of umber, beige, and gold. There was a mammoth wooden headboard to the bed that had the design of a large tree carved and inlaid with gold. The bed itself boasted a king-sized mattress with a large, ornately embroidered duvet the same shade as the tresses of the European Major he had glimpsed. Multiple pillows, sewn with the most valuable of gold, cream, and fawn silk, sat in fashionable display. At the foot of the bed was a sofa upholstered in tan fabric. Across from the sofa was an elegant oak chair that was cushioned with an amber cushion. The chair was in front of a long mahogany dresser while a chandelier glittered from the moonlight streaming in from the huge windows. They were partially closed from the drawn curtains made of sheer ivory fabric, while the floor was carpeted with plush Oriental rugs. The two bedside tables each had a lamp, and Julius moved to turn them on before focusing on the gilded full-length mirror standing besides the dresser.
Steadily gazing at his reflection, he placed his gloved hand on top of the eye patch covering his left eye, gently pressing the singular amethyst jewel to his jaw.
An elaborate and opulent cloth.
But an eye patch all the same, something that made him look like a silly pirate despite its luxurious design.
He had always speculated why he had an eye patch. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with the eye, and despite constantly searching and digging in his mind, again and again, he had yet to have an inkling as to the purpose of the piece of fabric. And he hadn't had a chance to find out yet, as that damned Knight of Seven always kept him in his sight.
Grinning wolfishly, his fingers curled around the soft material, about to tear it off, when the door opened with zeal behind him.
His only reaction was his uncovered eye flickering to the reflection of whoever it was that had dared interrupt the unveiling of the truth.
It was a woman.
Well, it was a woman and a man.
She was struggling in his grasp, while the man, obviously inebriated, attempted to persuade her to give him what he wanted, because she could deny it all she wanted, but they both knew that she wanted what he did too, so she should just give in and save them all of the trouble.
Briefly, he caught sight of her face and could see why and how she had fallen into the drunk aristocrat's clutches. She was an exquisite creature, with a slender physique and delicate features, her shoulder-length hair the hue of amaranth while her bright irises, so full of fear, were a startling blue.
She was beautiful… But should he intervene? He could still slip out, as he had yet to be noticed by either of them.
Ah, but if he did choose to escape, wouldn't that mean the woman would be left at another's lustful mercy.
But what did it matter to him what became of the lady?
As she was dragged to the lavish bed, she resisted but all efforts were futile. Her aggressor was much stronger than she, and all attempts to refuse were only rewarded with pain. As she pulled back one last time, their eyes met through the mirror, and suddenly…
Suddenly, something snapped in him.
He didn't know why.
But he felt a sudden surge of rage at seeing this… This… This insolent and foolish Neanderthal touching this woman, breathing in the same space as her, speaking to her.
Moving lightly on his feet to the grand hearth in the room, he palm the polished poker, and before the woman's eyes could even widen in realization, he descended upon the man, impaling him with the piercing metal rod.
He roared as the raven-haired man roughly pushed it deeper inside him, relishing the inhuman screaming from the agonizing pain, cruelly twisting it to incite more torture.
When he had had enough fun, he shoved the dying body off of her and grabbed the woman's wrist. Flying off of the bed, they sprinted out of the bedroom, but had to stop soon, as his weakness in anything physical came in to play again. Spying an exit, he hurried them out into the safety of darkness, away from the unforgivable deed he had done for one he didn't even know the name of.
A/N: One of you (I know which one of you, but I'm not naming names) will complain about its shortcoming in length. I know it's short. And so does everyone else. So there's really no need to point it out. I'll make the next chapter a little longer, so there's no need to point out the short-ness. Anyways... Please review! They're appreciated!
Ah, and any suggestions on the genre and who I should put as the principle characters would also be greatly appreciated.