I do not own Code Geass. Mandatory disclaimer.
A few more things to know:
I am no writer, not for hobby, not professionally. Read at your own risk.
This fic will have a LOT of OCs, as required with the concept of this fic. I'll do my best refraining from Mary Sues and Gary Stus though.
I have no idea where this story would be going. I know, outlining. Unfortunately, as mentioned, I'm no writer. Just a thought and an idea, no idea when and if I'll be able to continue this story.
This story is available for adoption!
Nearly millennium ago, a massive game dragged in the few remaining countries and colonies after a long period of war era, only to end abruptly, with the victory of one man, and the death of one man. For decades, his name was spoken with fear and hate and disgust. For centuries, the story and memories of him and his family faded into the darkness of history. And a millennium later, the world plunged back into chaos, only now it has no one to pick its bones and glue them together to their old glory. For ten years, the world looked into the mirror of the oceans, finding a friend, an enemy, a rival within. For twenty years, it cut into its own wounds, severed its own limbs, and finally, went down together with a thud. In its remains, sand flew, wind blown, and the sun kept shining on. Grass and flowers and all signs of life cowered and hid in the shadows of the eclipsed night, shivering in their new, unguarded, home.
Now, another few centuries later, as the beast's hidden offsprings slowly learned to stand, an old heritage that had been left behind by the blazes of history, unfurled its leaves. With new eyes, its return shall be greeted.
"Jen, come here! Think I found something amazing! Look at this, this must be writing from the Old Century right? From the looks of it, think it might be a grave? Written remains are so rare these days! If we could establish the legitimacy of the grave, fame and glory would no longer be a dream!"
The sun shone brightly overhead, marking the time to be sitting around a table, instead of wandering around in the bushes. It was apparently irrelevant to the current company though, as a man, likely in his later 30s, danced and pranced at the bottom of a hill. He stood in a small valley, surrounded by a lush forest and a few smaller hills. The place was a natural fortress shielding out unwanted attention. Tucked safely away in the cavity stood a tomb, a memorial tomb. Covered in moss and vines and whatnot, it had stayed relatively untouched from the long years of turmoil. In cursive, it crafted the words:
In memory of Lelouch vi Britannia
Beloved brother of Nunnally vi Britannia
An unnamed hero, and the overseer of our world
May he rest in peace at long last
Of course, over the course of time, knowledge of the olden Britannian language was long forgotten. But the two had more than enough experiance to recognize writing when they see it.
His partner, Jen, was much more calm. She picked up her hair to put it behind the ear, before bending down for a better look. "It looks like you may have hit jackpot Mark, for a change. Though, I wouldn't keep my hopes up on the age. Seeing how intact it is, we either found ourselves a golden egg or we got fooled again by dummies. It might not be as old as you think it is."
Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Jen crouched down, digging around carefully for artifacts.
"No, no no no. This must be it! Look at the intriguing design! The careful craftsmanship! The elegant characters! This is a state of art that must have belonged to a person of status!" Mark exclaimed.
"If you say so..." Jen said, only half attentive. Her hands stopped, feeling around carefully, before finally pulling out a carefully crafted jewelry box. The box was hidden behind the tomb, inside a chamber covered by the long overgrown vines. It was only by coincidence Jen had pressed to trigger to open the entrance. Gingerly, Jen added strength to the hand holding where the lid would be. As expected, the box did not budge. The mechanisms have rusted over, effectively sealing away its contents.
Jen tucked her loot in the bag, wrapping the delicate with soft cloth. Turning back, she found Mark wearing a rather, unsatisfied, look. Most likely caused by her neglect to his performance. Deciding she found enough for the day, Jen shifted her attention to her sulking partner.
"Yes, you're right. Now, how about you copy down what's written, while I bring this back to our car? It's not like we can bring the stone back. And remember to cover your tracks. Nowadays, it doesn't take long for hyenas to catch up."
It is 2019, things have finally calmed down since Onii-sama's death. I now sit on the throne that he had left behind, with help from Big Brother Schneizel and Big Sister Cornelia. Sister Cornelia left soon after my crowning, and Brother Schneizel is still flying around the globe like he always is. The Black Knights have returned to Japan as well, and all that is left here in the New Pendragon is me and Zero. It has gotten much more quiet, but not any less busy. Onii-sama left a cleansed court to me, yet I do not have the same strength as him to continue his rule. Onii-sama would never say that I'm weak, or require the same rational heart from me, but all the same, I wish for a different Zero at my side. At the very least, I haven't cried since his funeral, which was held in secret. Not even Sister Cornelia was invited, for I feared she hasn't forgiven Onii-sama yet.
...
...
Onii-sama, the world you created, the world you left for me, it is beautiful. It isn't perfect yet, but well on the road to recovery. But once again, why aren't you here by my side?
Some A/N
The recipe for the legend is the poem from theshroomdude's Everything I Touch, マルコ's story from かすがまる's 火刑戦旗を掲げよ, some distorted imagination, Lelouch's flair, and lastly sprinkle on some rainbow glitter. Well basically, I'm not too creative. Take it on with a grain of salt. Those are both great stories btw, try them out if you haven't yet.
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