Since he had been brought up in an aristocratic setting, Lelouch was used to the traditional ideal of a woman: quiet, polite, gentle, long-haired. Their steps were as little as possible, everything about them as graceful as possible and a poker-faced smile on their faces. For some time even, he couldn't imagine another kind of woman.

And it was no wonder why since all the females around him were just like that.

Nunnally was as frail and as well-bred as they come, with hair that was probably a little longer than a child should have; Euphemia had long hair too; Marianne, Carine (despite the fact that she was so bloodthirsty), even fierce Cornelia sported a mane that reached past her shoulders.

And, though coming from the family of a soldier, Shirley had the natural charm of a daughter from the Emperor's family. Her kindness and big doe eyes had captured a lot of the school's male population: all except the one that mattered. Lelouch was used to womanly ways like that so he didn't fall, much to her dismay.

All in all, every girl around the young prince was the same old equation: long tresses and calm manners.

Until he met Kallen.

At first, she'd just been that weird sick girl in the background of his classes. Then, he'd thought her quite pathetic because of her illness and lack of drive. He'd thought her just one of the no-brain idiots.

Sometime later, he met the real Kallen and clashed with an enigma.

She was nothing like anything he'd ever seen before. Never before had he seen such sincere loyalty, such power of faith enough to justify the slaughter of so many and such love for her nation.

Before, he'd only knew the distant politeness of the others. Before, he'd only knew the unemotional ones.

Now, all was so different. All that his eyes saw was her, her brilliance and the power of her mind.

He would watch her short hair glisten under the lights of her Guren and her lips curl up when she saw her battle comrades still alive. Then she would turn to him and smile with pure adoration. His heartbeat would quicken.

Kallen was anything but traditional.

She was unorthodox, loud, brash and emotional. Her drive was proverbial and the power on the battlefield many fear and respect came right from her feelings. As cliché as it may sound, she was fire, a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield and in her private life.

Her hair, her beautiful short flame of hair proved that: different from everyone else, vibrant (because not even Carine's quite reached that nuance of red, no matter how many times she stained her hair with blood) and so alive, quite unlike the pretty higher-up women, all dolled up and powdered and perfumed, but truthful and frank instead. It reminded him of some distant fields where he could run all he wanted, where he could easily drown in a woman's perfume and where everyone was free, that he'd probably seen in a dream.

Sometimes, he'd catch himself wondering if it's coarse or as soft as a feather flying on the wind created by her Guren.

She was tinkering something in her machine when he approached. The basic instinct kicked in and he wanted to tell her to be careful, but then refrained from saying anything: she knew better than himself how to handle this big a mecha.

Suddenly his feet made a sound that snapped her out of the trance she'd fallen. Her blue questioning eyes turned to him.

"Do you need anything, Zero-sama?"

He shuffled nervously, glad that she couldn't see his face.

"Your hair's nice."

And she was rightfully his queen.