From the Ashes
West of Columbia Interplanetary Port, Eastern America, Earth. June 9th, 1529 A.W.E.
Phoenix knew that if he chickened out now, before he even got started, he would regret it more than anything an insubstantial ghost could do. Even if it were the ghost of a man that had taken over the world.
Besides, in all rational likelihood, the perceived danger was nothing more than a relatively mild case of schizophrenia. Nothing that couldn't be cured with a few days off the meds. And if Phoenix Zero wanted to be an explorer of the past… then he'd better buck up and just go for it. Like a true adventurer, he would do the looking after he leaped.
It was this thinking that had caused Phoenix to convince Professor Pailey, Rachel, Ella, Kevin, and Hazel to help him explore the old tunnel to Lelouch's grave. Pailey reluctantly brought the float units they had used to lift off Zero's lid, which they used to lower themselves into the subterranean hallway.
"That's a long way to fall," Rachel commented, staring up towards the rim of grass and roots. Phoenix caught a glimpse of the cloud of moist air that exited her lips. It was still morning, and the deep tunnel was chilly. Unlike the dry Martian atmosphere he was used to, the Terran air seemed to cling wetly to his lungs and exposed digits. The hum of the floaters died down as Hazel, the last one into the tunnel, climbed off and stepped onto the layer of dirt and moss and grass.
Ella nudged him in the side with her elbow, and then wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering slightly. Rachel rolled her eyes at the display, probably mistaking her lack of warmth as lack of courage. Phoenix watched them for a moment as they had an entire conversation without words. He had decided to only tell Rachel and Ella the real reason he had gone running into the woods. Chasing ghosts and figments of the imagination wasn't a reason he thought the others would regard as reasonable at all.
It made him wonder why he thought all of this was a good idea.
He felt a bubble of excitement in his chest, and remembered why he was here. He was out discovering, and even if this was not Lelouch the Devil's grave, there was still the sword that killed him. He had told that much to the others, and it was prize enough to get Pailey enthusiastic.
"Come on, let's not dawdle in the doorway," Pailey said loudly, as if reading Phoenix's mind. He looked over at his student with a wide smile. "I want to see this sword you mentioned."
Phoenix nodded, feeling the edge of his excitement freeze into fear as he took the lead. It felt like the damp walls were pressing in on his enthusiasm and the chill of the floor was soaking up into his legs. But he couldn't turn back now, not after convincing Pailey it was worth it, not after getting everyone into the tunnel that turned darker and darker with every step, not after following Lelouch's ghost in the first place. But it was still difficult to force his feet to keep moving forward. Behind him, Hazel suddenly turned her lantern on, and the bouncing light cast his uneven, wavering shadow in front of him. As the others turned theirs on, the light only became more and more scattered, more prone to showing quick-footed, shadowy creatures of the imagination, as if the light chose to deceive rather than illuminate.
No one spoke, and the sound of their shoes on the hard floor and the whispering of their breath from between their lips were the only additions to the wavering light and deep chill. All too soon, their echoing footsteps bounced off the mirrored walls and their lights crossed the small room they had come for, reflecting their own images back at them like ancient, silent wraiths.
The sword hung on the far wall, gleaming underneath a millennium of dust. The broad golden hilt still fanned out magnificently into a guard, and then flowed into a long, pinkish blade, embedded with jewels. Cobwebs tangled thick around rusting candelabras on the walls, giving Phoenix the feeling that they were all disturbing what shouldn't be disturbed. Pailey made an appreciative grunt as he moved immediately to the far wall and leaned towards the great broadsword, examining it closely with a raised lantern. Hazel and Kevin stuck close together, setting their lantern on one end of the room and then peering up at a candelabra. Rachel walked past, dragging Ella in one hand and her lantern in the other.
As she passed him, Ella nudged him in the ribs and smiled. Apparently, she thought it was a great discovery.
Phoenix breathed a sigh of relief. The apparition, the ghost of Lelouch, was nowhere to be seen. He had been worried that if the silent, crying specter were present, he would have been unable to focus. He probably would have been unable to remain standing still, or keep from either running towards it or running away. The others in the room would have known then.
But what exactly would they have known? That he was crazy? That he was somehow connected to the netherworld? He shook his head slightly, suppressing a shiver. He didn't know, and neither answer was particularly appealing.
A small ping echoed throughout the room, and Phoenix snapped his mind into the present, catching Pailey's outstretched finger next to the sword. The man had flicked it slightly, producing the sound that was still ringing faintly. Hazel had jumped and was breathing a sigh of relief onto Kevin's shoulder. He was smiling. On the other side of the room, Rachel and Ella were poking at some kind of inscription on the wall.
He had to admit, it was a good find. Though it was dark and damp and had been uncovered only due to the directions of a long-dead man. The rectangular black marble was directly in front of him, still coffin-sized and waiting. If Phoenix were going to take the plunge he knew he needed to take, then he'd better do it before everyone else was too absorbed in the rest of the room.
It's now or never, Phoenix, he told himself, taking a deep breath. He looked down at the floor, to the thick black slab of marble where he knew—though how could he possibly know—Lelouch lay buried.
"I don't think we'll need a floater to lift this, let alone two…" Pailey began uncertainly, lifting a finger to trace the dust along the pink and gold blade.
"Actually, Professor…" Phoenix said, his voice wavering. He thrust his arm out, and pointed to the floor, hoping the action would steady him.
Pailey turned around, his expression again one of concern. Phoenix took another deep breath.
"Actually, I think someone's buried here." He shook his finger purposefully, to keep the rest of them from seeing the tremble that coursed through him. There was no turning back now. "Right under that black stone."
Pailey paused, looked down, and then slowly lifted his gaze back to meet Phoenix's eyes. The professor looked troubled, and a little confused. "Why wouldn't you say so in the first place, Zero?"
There was a long and uncomfortable silence that followed as Phoenix tried to think up an appropriate response. Hazel started muttering something quietly to Kevin, and the other girls tried to look interested in the mirrored walls and old, dusty cobwebs, and not as if they were eavesdropping as Phoenix was more or less accused of lying to a teacher.
Phoenix could hear the real question hidden in Pailey's words, though. It wasn't "why wouldn't you say so", but "why don't you trust me anymore?" Phoenix wasn't sure why, either, and that troubled him. Since when had his favorite adviser become nothing more than a resource for floaters? Since when had Phoenix turned into the sort of person that kept secrets at all? He felt an icy chill as his mind brought him the answer: since he had first seen Lelouch.
When he took too long to answer, Pailey just went on, his voice hinting at an underlying anger and frustration. "You've been acting strange lately, Zero. You can't deny it, not after last night. I know how much all of this means to you, but perhaps you should—"
"Can we just open it?" Phoenix asked suddenly, surprising even himself. He flushed red at being so abrupt. "I… I just was to see if I'm right…." He swallowed, wondering if he'd feel better once he saw the evil emperor's rotted body. If he could be sure that Lelouch was firmly dead and gone, he'd feel better, right? He'd be able to explain everything to Pailey, right?
But he suddenly remembered how it had felt to stare down at Zero's remains. Phoenix shivered, thrusting the thought away.
"Well," Pailey said with a heavy sigh. He was looking down at the space of floor where Phoenix was pointing. "It looks like you might be right about someone being buried here, at any rate." He paused, as if he wanted to say more, but then shook his head. "Let's get the floaters attached."
Rachel and Ella grabbed one unit, attaching it to the surface and waiting for the suction light to turn green. Pailey stepped directly in front of Phoenix and then crouched down to attach the next float unit.
Both lights flashed green.
"This is your show," Pailey told him, turning around as he stood and holding out the floater controls. Phoenix held his hands out as soon as he understood what Pailey was trying to give him, and the man dropped the controls into his palm as if he wanted nothing more than to be rid of them.
Phoenix faced the black lid, trying to put his questions about himself and his professor out of his mind. He could see the green lights reflected on the blade of Zero's sword, flashing in time with his pounding heart.
It was as if someone else were moving his body now. Phoenix was terrified that he was actually going through with it all, and yet… he couldn't—he wouldn't—stop. To stop would mean he was a coward. It would mean he wasn't worthy of studying all the courageous people he studied.
If he couldn't face Lelouch, with that sword gleaming next to him, it would mean he wasn't worthy of the history he cherished, or the name that was precious to him. It would mean he wasn't worthy of being called Zero.
He clicked the floaters on.
The green glow filled the room, along with a low hum. The black marble shook as if echoing and returning the hum, and then suddenly pulled free, lifting higher as a cascade of dust billowed into the air like a great mushroom cloud.
Phoenix couldn't take his eyes off the dark pit in the center of the room. He could see only the cloud of dust as it slowly sank into the abyss. His fingers guided the floaters to the side of the room, automatically moving over the controls. His eyes were still pinned to the dusty, black grave. Someone began coughing in a raspy, sickly voice.
Phoenix's eyes widened suddenly as his nightmare breathed to life.
A slender, pale hand reached upwards from the black hole, grasping the lip of the floor.
Phoenix felt the floater controls fall from his grasp as Hazel began screaming. Rachel and Ella flattened themselves against the wall as Kevin followed Hazel towards the exit. The lid to the tomb faltered as the controls clattered across the floor, and then the entire floater-lid combination fell to the floor with a crash, extinguishing the eerie green glow and flattening one of the lanterns. Pailey jumped into Rachel to avoid being crushed, and both of them fell to the floor.
A second pale hand appeared from the gloom, settling beside the first. The dust swirled around the hands, settling slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix saw Pailey grab Rachel and begin pulling her to the exit, following Kevin and the still-shrieking Hazel. The knuckles on the pale hand stood out as it gripped the lip of the grave tightly. Rachel fought Pailey's strong arms, reaching for Ella, who flung a hand out and shouted.
"Phoenix!"
He turned back suddenly, and saw the entire scene, in slow motion with the sound eerily muted. The dust clouding the dim light around the exit, Hazel and Kevin's retreating backs. The slow echoes of feet pattering across the floor. Pailey's white face and strong grip on Rachel's arm. Ella's desperate, pleading look, her hand outstretched….
Phoenix was as if in a dream, as if tugged gently by the invisible puppet strings of Fate.
Slowly, Phoenix Zero turned back to the grave…
…And the Devil of Britannia rose out of it.
It seemed as if time had not changed him at all. He was exactly as Phoenix's visions had made him out to be… the same man, unchanged since the rise of Britannia and his dominion of the world.
Lelouch had a delicate, pale face, the slope of his cheek smooth, and his lips a thin pink line. His black hair lay across his brow in long, slender locks. He was thin, clothed in layer upon layers of white and gold. A small hat lay on the top of his head, folded and creased along the sides and edges. The dust swirled around him majestically as he gained his footing, and then he looked up to meet Phoenix's eyes squarely.
His eyes were a deep purple, without pupils, and carrying a strange red design. And if Phoenix wasn't mistaken, his eyes also held surprise.
It was then that Lelouch suddenly became real. He wasn't just an imaginary ghost, but he was still… a person. Phoenix noticed the dusty tear streaks down the man's cheeks, the dust in his black hair, and the frayed edges of his faded clothes. A ruby fell from an old thread, bounced on the marble floor with a clink, and dropped back into the grave. Lelouch took a deep breath, and then coughed, expelling dust from his lungs and tears from his watery eyes. As the former emperor doubled over and coughed dust towards the floor, his small, limp hat fell from his head.
This… this wasn't scary, Phoenix realized. This was… pathetic.
Lelouch stood straight a moment later, watching Phoenix carefully. His eyes were creepy, to be sure, but Phoenix could tell that this man was only a shadow of his former tyrannical self. Even if he was risen from the grave, he still looked incredibly weak and wobbly. More than anything else, Lelouch seemed terribly fragile. His sleeve had torn gently free when he had stood, baring his pale upper arm. Another ruby fell, sliding a short distance along the floor. Lelouch looked away, and opened his mouth.
It looked as if he had tried to speak, but no words came out. Only a hiss of air, and then Lelouch bent over again, coughing. Phoenix waited. A small part of him wondered if the man were capable of speaking, and if he were… what sort of hellish language might issue from his lips.
Lelouch's right sleeve slid down further, and he shook free of it lamely. For a zombie, he looked… weak. With a sudden movement, Lelouch stood up and shrugged free of a layer of white, letting it fall to the floor as a cloud of dust and dried thread lifted into the air. His clothing was…old. It was fraying and falling apart while it was still hung on his thin figure.
The former emperor kept his gaze focused on some part of the wall, leaving his creepy eyes off of Phoenix. He took a slow, deep breath, and then his voice finally came out in a wheeze. "Who are you?"
"Phoenix Z… er, I'm Phoenix." He was fairly certain he did not want the newly-risen undead man to guess he was a descendent of the one who had put him in his grave. "You're Lelouch, aren't you." Phoenix tried to keep the wavering edge out of his voice, but wasn't sure if he succeeded.
Lelouch nodded slowly. "Why have you released me?" he asked, still refusing to look at the person he was speaking to. But there was something in his voice, something other than the raspy dry throat and the tongue slowed by disuse. There was something like uncertainty, or some kind of sorrow.
"Released you?" Phoenix echoed, blinking slightly. Had Lelouch been supernaturally sealed away? Had Phoenix inadvertently unleashed a curse on the world? He felt himself beginning to take a step back, and then planted his feet more solidly. "For research's sake. For history." As the words resounded out of Phoenix's lungs soundly, he realized their truth. It gave him an odd sort of strength, and appeared to take Lelouch by surprise.
His purply-red eyes darted to Phoenix briefly, and then returned back to the wall. "For research?" It was his turn to echo, though he sounded a little faint. "You dug me up so you could research me? How did you know I was still… alive?" Phoenix could see the small, sad smile on Lelouch's lips as he looked down, raising his palms to meet his gaze.
Phoenix shook his head. "I didn't." He paused a moment, before continuing on bravely. "In fact, I'm still not sure that you are. People… don't live that long."
Again, Lelouch's eerie gaze flashed towards him, lingering for a moment, and then moving back towards the wall when he opened his mouth to speak. "How long?"
Phoenix's mind suddenly reeled. Lelouch had no concept of how long he had been entombed? When had he come alive again, if he really was alive? Or had he been alive the entire time? He glanced towards the black pit in the center of the room, the grave Lelouch had crawled out of. It had been… a long time since Lelouch had been put in there.
He began hesitantly, watching the other man carefully. "It's been… 1,529 years… since your… death." The pause before the last word was the longest, as Phoenix wasn't sure if it was the right word. But what did it mean exactly if Lelouch were alive? What did it mean if he were actually dead? Undead?
Had the so-called Devil of Britannia made, as the superstitious said, some kind of pact with the actual Devil? One that could have possibly granted him world domination and eternal life? In exchange for something a bloodthirsty ruler of the world wouldn't need, like his soul? Phoenix felt his knees tremble and his breath catch tightly in his lungs.
Lelouch was still for a long time, as if purposefully letting Phoenix's imagination run wild and loose, spiraling down into ever-darkening circles. What had Phoenix been thinking? To wake something like this from his eternal prison!
"That long…." Lelouch's wistful voice cut through his thoughts, echoing softly in the small room. Again, Phoenix heard the melancholy note in his voice, the tragic air that slid from between his lips. He forced himself not to focus on it, fearing it could be some kind of sorcerer's trap. He must not pity Lelouch, must not show him any mercy, or sign of weakness, for surely the man would take advantage of it.
"What will you do with me now?" Lelouch slowly turned his eerie eyes to Phoenix as the echoes of his words faded into silence.
Phoenix swallowed. What would he do? Why had he even thought there was something that should be done to this cursed gravesite? What had prompted him, nothing more than a geeky college student, to seek out the ghost, to follow him, and then to open the tomb? What ridiculous impulse had made Phoenix come to the Royal Britannian Cemetery in the first place?
And suddenly, the answer blossomed before him. It was the quest he had undertaken, the rush of Destiny that had swept him up the precise instant he had stepped foot onto the darkened trail and seen Lelouch's ghost, no, it had been before that—and it hadn't been as precise as he had thought. His quest, his path had opened up before him, catching him up in its swirling threads of Fate when he had climbed the hillside to Zero's tomb. It had wrapped around him so securely then, had been pushing him forwards with gathering momentum ever since that morning….
It was a quest for knowledge. For the truth.
The truth of the Britannian Empire that had perished long ago, that had risen to prominence even before that. The truth about the man known as Zero, his army, his allies….
Phoenix met Lelouch's eyes squarely, his green orbs flashing with brilliant determination.
…And his enemies.
Phoenix smiled. He wasn't sure how difficult it would be, but undoubtedly there would be obstacles. Lelouch himself was bound to be one of them, but he was undeniably Phoenix's greatest resource as well. He was a living artifact, and far more precious than any ancient book or long-forgotten hard drive. Lelouch had once held the world in his hands, and although he had apparently died for it, he still held the one thing that no one else in the solar system had.
Memories.
Lelouch held memories—primary source memories—of the era when Zero's Black Knights rose to power, of who was who among Britannia's Royal Family. He alone knew the key to taking over the Empire, and he alone understood his motivations, his desires, his ambitions, and his schemes. In fact, only Zero himself would have been more suitable for the task that lay before Phoenix.
Lelouch's unanswered question echoed through his mind. What will you do with me now?
"I will use you, as a guide. Towards the truth." His resolve was firm, and his words rang with conviction.
Lelouch's eyes opened wide in surprise, and he seemed to be reevaluating the young man in front of him. He nodded slowly, first keeping his strange eyes closed, and then keeping them on the floor. As if he were addressing Phoenix as a sort of prince or emperor, he tilted his head slightly towards the floor, giving Phoenix the impression it was a small, respectful bow. "Thank you."
Phoenix wasn't quite sure what to make of the words Lelouch had given him, nor the smile and relief that showed clearly on the man's face. He nodded at Lelouch, feeling as if he should make some kind of sign or gesture, which would cement their… what, their contract? Their agreement to work together towards the truth? Was Lelouch even interested in offering the truth to him? Would he instead jealously guard his knowledge of the bygone world?
Phoenix took a deep breath, and held out his hand towards the former emperor, his arm feeling foreign yet at the same time relaxed. "Lelouch vi Britannia, in exchange for freeing you from your grave, promise that you will give me the history of your era."
The hand that was placed in his was, to his surprise, warm and smooth. Lelouch looked away again as he spoke. "You have my promise."
Suddenly, Phoenix heard voices from the entrance to the tunnel. He dropped Lelouch's hand and turned as the footsteps rushed closer, as if suddenly remembering himself. A shadow appeared in the tunnel, blotting out much of dim, morning light that filtered through from the surface.
"Phoenix!" Pailey's booming voice crashed into the small room as the man himself appeared in the entryway. It seemed as if Pailey were suddenly pulling himself to his full, considerable height as he glared over Phoenix's head at Lelouch. He tilted his chin slightly at Phoenix. "You're alright?" he asked gruffly, though it also sounded like a relieved confirmation.
Phoenix nodded. It was a surprise to see his professor return, but at the same time, it wasn't. It was comforting to know that Pailey would brave the undead to rescue him if necessary, even after their awkward and unresolved argument. He smiled at the man, and suddenly felt his lips tug upwards into a smile. There was no one else that he would rather share his discovery with.
He turned slightly, gesturing towards Lelouch, who looked on passively. "Professor, I'd like to introduce you to my new research material."
Pailey looked startled. "You can't be serious. That's… I don't even know what that is!" He grabbed Phoenix's should with one hand, dragging him off balance slightly and away from Lelouch. He stumbled backwards into the large man. "We're probably better off pretending like this never happened."
"But just think about it! Everything there is to know about Britannia!" Phoenix said desperately, staring up into Pailey's blue eyes. "About the Golden Age!" He broke free of his advisor's grasp, and stood in front of him, stretching his arms out wide to illustrate his point. "There's everything to learn from him, Professor! There's a whole world that's inside his head, and it's the same one we're dedicating our lives to studying!"
Pailey shook his head, as if in utter disbelief at Phoenix's words. "This is completely ridiculous, and you know it. He's a dangerous man—we know that much."
"We can get around that! What's a leader without any followers? What's an emperor without a country? He's got none of that! Besides, we've studied his ways. We know what to expect, and how to counteract it!" He looked back at Lelouch, who was still simply watching the exchange, not attempting to add anything.
"Even so…" Pailey began, rubbing the back of his head and looking upwards. Phoenix recognized the movement as one the professor made when he was searching for an answer. "Who says he'll work with us?"
"He does," Phoenix replied with a grin. It felt like Fate was finally working for him, rather than the other way around. Either that, or he had decided to become Fate's entirely willing advocate.
Pailey threw his hands up. "Who says we can let him work with us?"
"We do." At the look of shock on Pailey's face, Phoenix added, "Don't we?"
Pailey shrugged. "It's not as if there's any precedence for this sort of thing." He looked Lelouch up and down, and Phoenix could tell that he was weighing their choices. By the hungry glint in his professor's eyes, he could tell that Pailey was having difficulty finding more reasons to pretend they hadn't found Lelouch. "No one would believe us. How would we even begin to publish anything based on information from him?"
Phoenix shook his head. "That's not the point, is it? I thought study was 'for knowing, not advertising,'" he said, quoting his professor's own words.
"But it's not knowing unless more people know it," Pailey countered absently, still watching Lelouch closely. "You really think we can figure out how to make this work?"
Phoenix looked back at Lelouch, who stood there, the center of the discussion and the focus of their attention. The undead man had said "thank you" before, when Phoenix had told him his intentions. What did that really mean?
"I think we can."
Pailey shook his head, this time smiling. "You know, sometimes I still surprise myself at the stupid things I do… and let you do, too." He took a deep breath and raised himself to his full height, taking a step towards Lelouch. He stiffly held out a hand, and Lelouch stood there, staring at it.
"William Pailey, professor of history," he said, staring down at the thin form before him. Lelouch carefully extended his hand, but only touched Pailey's after sending a purply-red glance to Phoenix.
"Lelouch vi Britannia…." Lelouch's mouth lingered open for a moment as if he intended to give himself a title, but then suddenly closed. In this age, Lelouch had no title.
Other than perhaps something like "important artifact."
U.M.S. Marterra, Columbia Interplanetary Port Harbor, Eastern America, Earth. June 9th, 1529 A.W.E.
Hazel eyed the Phoenix's door apprehensively, her brow wrinkled and her hands twisted into Kevin's. The tall boy also looked nervous, but the effect was lessened because he seemed to be slightly annoyed by his girlfriend's constant anxiety and her attempts to sit on top of him.
Pailey was pacing by the hallway to the circular common room, though it was with excitement rather than fear. Ella passed him carefully as she returned from the bathroom, looking relieved that she hadn't missed anything.
On the couch next to Phoenix, Rachel was sitting perfectly still. It was obvious she was not okay with the current situation, but… rules were rules, and Pailey had explained it all very well, and made it sound reasonable. Logical, in fact, that Lelouch, who was living over 1500 years after his birth, was going to be staying with them aboard the Marterra. Furthermore, Pailey had explained to the five students present that it was imperative that none of them reveal the former emperor's true identity.
It could, after all, have disastrous consequences. Not just for Pailey and Phoenix's research, either.
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed. The hiss of Phoenix's door sliding open caught Pailey's attention and arrested his pacing. Hazel climbed nearly into Kevin's lap, and Rachel twitched. Phoenix sat up straighter, looking towards the door.
Lelouch stepped out of the room, and to Phoenix's profound surprise, he looked normal.
Instead of his fraying white rags dotted with rubies, Lelouch wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a sleeveless charcoal gray zip-up hoodie. Even without any shoes or socks, he blended into the environment naturally, looking for all the world like a Galilean freshman or sophomore. And all it took was some of Phoenix's clothes?
In fact, he could even agree with Rachel's small exhale of breath. Lelouch looked better than normal. He looked good.
Pailey nodded as he approached Lelouch. He gave the ex-emperor a quick once-over with his eyes, approving. "Good." He turned to Phoenix, who was already getting up off the couch and looking at Lelouch seriously.
"Well, I guess you can fit in if we make you. But do play boson* about your identity. Otherwise…" Phoenix grimaced, even as Lelouch blinked. "You're our secret, and we plan on keeping you that way." He watched his precious artifact carefully, making sure his point hit home. He also wanted to make sure that if Lelouch had any intention of betraying the research team or trying to take over the world, he would be able to nip such actions in the bud. Seeing nothing but a complacent nod and a blank face, Phoenix sighed and faced Pailey as the professor addressed the rest of the students.
"If anyone has any questions or concerns, feel free to come talk to me before dinner at my cabin area. You won't be heading back out to the dig site today, so just take the afternoon off and relax." Seeing that everyone was nodding, Pailey turned to go.
As he was exiting the hallway, and the Hazel-Kevin duo was retreating to a room, Pailey turned back to face Lelouch and Phoenix. His eyes landed directly on Phoenix, and he said, "Be careful." His gaze shifted to Lelouch, and his expression hardened. "I'm sure I can make even you regret your actions. So do as you're told."
Phoenix blinked. It was probably the first threat he had ever heard from his professor, and still he had complete faith that the large man now retreating down the hallway could follow through. He turned back to Lelouch, who was standing as passively as he had been since Phoenix had been given the man's promise.
He felt suddenly awkward. Here was the former ruler of the world, stripped of his power and prepared to be used as nothing more than a database. But at the same time… Lelouch was… a guy, right? A not-exactly-average dude, but a dude nonetheless. How should he address the boy who…. Now that he thought about the facts, that Lelouch had ascended power at a young age, at nineteen to be exact… they were the same age.
Then again, Lelouch had turned nineteen over a thousand years ago. So it was pretty much a completely different story. Right?
"So, you used to rule the world?" Ella's voice slipped into the air between them, and Lelouch turned to face the girl. Phoenix watched as the other man's—the other boy's?— forehead twitched and he nodded, his expression turning grave.
"Why?" Ella asked, and Phoenix inwardly praised her simplicity and directness. That, judging by the glance from Lelouch that seemed to be asking for permission to speak, was the proper way to go about the interview. But, if he wanted to get a complete story, he'd better approach it from the proper angle.
Phoenix shook his head and then looked to Lelouch. "No, don't answer that yet. Right now, even if you give us some kind of explanation for why you took over the world, it would be meaningless without a clear picture of that world, or how you took it over, or what you thought you could accomplish by taking it over." Phoenix felt the grip of studying historical texts close over him. Getting answers from Lelouch would be just like unearthing answers from the history department's library. Only much easier.
He gestured for Lelouch to sit on the green couch Hazel and Kevin had vacated as he sat on it himself. "I want you to start at the beginning," he told Lelouch matter-of-factly. "So my first question is, where is the beginning?" Ella rolled her eyes at Phoenix's drawn-out interruption, but stole a cushion from the couch Rachel occupied and plopped herself down on the floor as if an interview was a spectator sport. Phoenix pulled out his PD, and set it to record the conversation, suddenly feeling like it was all coming together.
It was hard to believe he was actually doing this. He was interviewing a man who was perhaps the most influential person in history (besides Zero, of course). And Phoenix was just an undergrad at a large university, a student hoping to get into an Honors Program, no different from any of the other thousands of history students across Mars and Earth. The only thing that made him special was that he had fallen into a hole one evening, and then, like getting permission from a parent for rights to a stray kitten, he had convinced Pailey to allow him to keep Lelouch.
Phoenix blinked out of his happy contemplation of his newfound significance when the Britannian before him took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "It was a long time ago," he started slowly, "and… and if I have some trouble remembering exactly what happened, as it happened…. The human mind is flawed, and so is memory. I've… had a lot of time to reflect…." He sounded pained, and the air about him was almost tragic.
"Go ahead. I can check your words against what facts we know," Phoenix said encouragingly, checking the volume of his PD. For no easily apparent reason, he felt suddenly like a proper researcher. As he settled into the couch, Phoenix had to resist the never-before felt urge to cup his chin with his hand in a sophisticated manner.
To him, the air was rapidly becoming palpable with a humming tension, and he felt suddenly filled with the coursing, electric tug of Destiny. Phoenix's search for truth was beginning.
Lelouch nodded slowly, and turned to stare out the window at the blue waves of the Atlantic. The sun had peaked over the zenith, and was now slowly falling behind the Marterra, casting the shuttle's shadow across the darkening sea in an ever-lengthening shadow that seemed to be reaching towards the horizon, towards infinity.
Lelouch began.
"The beginning for me is, of course, when I was born. I was born December 5th, in the year 1999, to my mother, Marianne vi Britannia, the fifth wife of my father Charles zi Britannia, the 98th Emperor of Britannia. I spent my early childhood with my mother, and then, when she was born, my little sister Nunnally.
"I think my first memory is of that day, when I met Nunnally. She was tiny and oddly proportioned, like all infants, yet there was something entirely beautiful about her eyes. I wasn't very old, but I climbed up onto my mother's bed, and I got to hold Nunnally's hand for the first time. As she grabbed onto my finger and refused to let go, my mother said to me, very seriously, 'C'est à toi aussi de prendre soin de Nunnally, Lelouch.'
"'It's your responsibility, too, to take care of Nunnally, Lelouch.'
"It was a task I took very seriously, and also one I enjoyed. I was always asking if I could look after her, or hold her, or give her toys and play with her. Whenever we went outside for a picnic, which was often, I would carry Nunnally's yellow baby blanket. The only thing I would not do was change her diaper, so my mother asked for my help with the task at least once a day, and laughed at my adamant refusals.
"Life got more interesting when Nunnally began to crawl. I would follow her around our suite at the Imperial Villa, and give anyone who would listen a running commentary of her actions. I was at that stage where I talked constantly, and although it often got me into trouble because I did not have any sense of propriety yet, I think I also cultivated a certain fondness from members of the household staff who had children of their own. My mother began to let me have more and more independence, and even let me watch Nunnally for her.
"At this time, I was of course aware that Nunnally was not my only sibling. Sometimes the other Imperial children would visit us. Most often, it was Cornelia who brought Euphie over to see us in our suite. Cornelia was much older, and acted as our babysitter while Euphie and I played together. When Nunnally was added to the equation, my little sister instantly became Euphie's favorite. Our quarrels were then limited to what game to play with Nunnally, because she was obviously my favorite as well, and we each wanted to be the one who pleased her the most. We often couldn't agree on what game my preverbal little sister liked best, but, since Euphie was a little girl herself, she convinced me that she had much more authority on the matter.
"This meant that I often ended up playing house. As the family breadwinner, I was usually out storming foreign castles or commanding rooms full of very old politicians who had no clue what they were doing. For us, that was what a father did. Euphie acted as a mother, and always had to take care of Baby Nunnally, who usually needed this or that. Sometimes we used dolls to act as Euphie's lazy servants. But, unlike our reality, I always stopped by the house to see Baby Nunnally and make sure that Euphie was taking good care of her. Often our main plot involved me finding something wrong with Euphie's caretaking abilities, and thus I would threaten to find Nunnally a new mother, something that Euphie hated.
"If our playacting got too loud or too rough, Cornelia or one of our mothers would be alerted. If we were playing under Cornelia's supervision, we would get a lecture about our behavior, and then she would tell us exactly how grown-ups would solve the situation. Inevitably, the grown-ups she imagined always took Euphie's side. If we were being watched by my mother, she would soothe us by taking Nunnally into her arms and telling us to go play tag or get out our coloring books. On the occasion that Nunnally and I played with Euphie at her mother's suite, Celestra li Britannia always gave us a stern look and told us to quiet down.
"Exactly one week after Nunnally spoke her first word, "love," I began formal lessons. I had a different tutor for each subject, and six in total. I took lessons in English, French, Mathematics, Music, a combination of Geography and History, and a children's version of Science, which most often took the form of astronomy or chemistry. I had been looking forward to these lessons ever since my contact with Euphie had been limited when she began lessons three months before me. I was thrilled, however, that I did not have to learn embroidery or how to tell real, quality China from fakery. Apparently boring lessons were for girls.
"Every night, I tried to teach Nunnally how to say my vocabulary words with no success and read books after I finished my homework. On weekends, my mother would take us on picnics into the countryside rather than the garden or front lawn, or I would take Nunnally, who had learned to walk, on a stroll to one of the other suites where our half-siblings lived.
"On one such outing around the Imperial Villa, I caught my older brothers Clovis and Schneizel playing a game of chess. Schneizel was attempting to explain the rules so Clovis could become a better player, but the latter was beginning to get bored. Spotting me, he convinced me to take over for him. Of course, I promptly lost to Schneizel, but I somehow convinced him to agree to a rematch in one week's time. Thus I began weekly chess matches with the second prince. I always thought I had the upper hand until the last moment, when I would realize that he had just been letting me think I was winning, an act that absolutely infuriated me. Worse, he knew that I couldn't stand his superiority, so he simply laughed it off when he noticed it.
"Since Clovis immediately became jealous when it appeared that Schneizel favored chess games with me, Clovis sought to gain my attention himself by inviting me over to color, draw, and paint. Sometimes we collaborated on strange pieces, and he let me order him about, drawing what I suggested no matter how many times I had asked him for a picture of it, or how strange the drawing was. Often our subject matter was Nunnally, who toddled around the room, throwing crayons while shouting out their colors. Once, I asked Clovis to help me paint a battle between space aliens where Britannia had to protect the Earth. We used nine square meters of canvas, and used Nunnally's multicolored footprints as the bodies of the attacking aliens.
"I was very happy with my life, though of course I did not analyze it then. I was a child, and I was surrounded by other children and plenty of mothers. Of course, it was to be expected that not all mothers loved me as much as my mother did, but it took an incident for the full weight of this truth to sink in.
"I don't remember how it started, but one evening, Clovis and I were in a mud fight versus Euphie and Nunnally at the koi pond in the garden. The fight took place half in the shallow edge of the pond, where the best mud for slinging was, and on the bank nearby. The boys' team was losing horribly, because Euphie's aim was dreadfully accurate, and I didn't have the heart to aim for Nunnally. Clovis, despite being the eldest and a boy, shrieked the loudest, and attempted to use me as a shield despite my being much smaller than him. Towards the end of the mud fight, we boys decided to use the mud as war paint to frighten the girls. After the initial shock, however, the girls copied the idea, using bits of nearby exotic greens to complement their mud-stained faces. The ensuing laughter forced us to agree to a truce, but by then, none of us looked at all like the princes or princesses that we actually were. We had all covered our fine clothes in mud and bits of grass, and Nunally had only one shoe, owing to Clovis throwing one to the center of the pond where he assured us the koi had devoured it.
"It was the sound of Cornelia's voice that made us scatter. All except for Euphie, of course. But Clovis, Nunnally, and I feared her spotting us throwing mud at her precious little lady of a sister, so we ran off towards our separate mothers' suites, using the garden hedges as cover.
"Once safely far enough from Cornelia, but still covered in mud and grass, Nunnally and I exited the hedgerows, not bothering to brush off the leaves because to do so would be pointless. Although breathless from running from Cornelia, it had all been such good fun that we couldn't stop laughing.
"It was Carine's mother who found us. She, who had never been married to my father but had been of a higher rank than my mother, overheard our panting and giggles during afternoon tea in the garden with her daughter.
"Carine and I never socialized when we were young, unless we happened to be in the same large table at family functions. We knew we were siblings, but we moved in different circles. And although she and Nunnally were the same age, they never spoke. Carine's mother was nobility, and encouraged her to find more 'suitable' playmates and pastimes. Euphie, who was considered a 'suitable' playmate by Maleyna le Britannia, had told me that the key word was 'suitable', and also that she wasn't exactly sure what that meant, either.
"In other words, Maleyna looked down on us, and when her attendants pulled two children, one nearly barefoot and both covered in dirt, leaves, grime, and torn clothes, she felt completely justified. Here we were, proof of the low-born, peasant ways of our mother. Instead of sending us along to a bath, as Clovis's mother was sure to do, or giving us a lecture as we knew Euphie's mother would give her, Maleyna gave her attendants orders to remove us filthy children from the Imperial Villa.
"In fact, she directed them to the fastest and most sure route, which was to drop us from the southeastern gatehouse tower. As they nodded and hiked us up on their shoulders, Nunnally began crying, and I began explaining that I was Lelouch. A prince. Surely Carine at least recognized me. We had sat next to each other once, at Odysseus's birthday party.
"Those members of the Imperial family, technically members of my family, denied us recognition. Carine stared, wide-eyed until her mother harrumphed at her. The little girl turned back to tea as we were carried out of the garden, holding out her pinky daintily as she took a sip. I didn't understand exactly that we were to be tossed off the tower wall and explained as an accidental fall by stupid, peasant children. I knew that something bad was going to happen, that it might hurt, but I didn't exactly understand what it would mean to die.
"I don't know how she knew, but I remember crying and struggling over a man's shoulder, and suddenly, from out of nowhere, came my mother.
"She was astride her favorite white horse, with a look of fierce determination with her black hair fanning out behind her. Dressed in her red hunting coat and white breeches, and surrounded by an aura of outrage that belonged to a descending, righteous angel. I'll never forget that image. In an instant, the wordless cries from Nunnally and me turned into calling for her.
"Maleyna's servants were obedient, but not stupid. They set us down carefully as my mother reined in her horse and glared down at them imperiously. I've lost the exact words that followed, but I remember how she leapt down from her horse and delivered not only a verbal blow, but gave each attendant a ringing slap before scooping Nunnally into her arms and letting me cry into her waist.
"I know that my mother tried to explain our situation to us afterwards, with weary, heartsick eyes, and that it took several conversations for me to make sense of it all. I grew up a little, and realized that my duties towards Nunnally were considerably more complicated than what I had believed them to be since her birth.
"Not only did I have to make sure she always ate her vegetables, brushed her teeth, and listened to her favorite story before bed, but I had to protect her. It was a shared duty between me, my mother, and in part, my father.
"My mother always had absolute faith in her husband. Even though we rarely saw him, I knew she visited him often, and she always talked about him. She told us that the proof that my father cared for us was our existence itself. Every gift she had was from him, and every time we told her of the praise we received from our tutors, she promised to pass it on to him. He may have been mostly absent, but at the same time, my father was everywhere.
"I was proud to be a prince when I was young. Arrogant, even, because I realized I was special. Part of an elite group that could play chess in a courtyard that most people never saw. At the same time, I became aware of the severe different between myself and others at the Villa. The Maleynas and the Olivias, those who cared so painstakingly about nobility of birth that they tried to stamp out any symbol counter to their carefully constructed worldview.
"Nunnally and I were both part of the elite, and part of the world's trash. I began to navigate more carefully, more consciously. I learned my place in the world, and behaved appropriately. I never had a mud fight again, and instead sought to prove my princeliness.
"I tried to regularly visit Odysseus, who was always happy to have tea with myself and Nunnally if he was available. Such outings bored me, however, and I soon turned to strengthening my relationship with Schneizel. I needed to have excellent connections with those who could actually make a difference in court politics, and I saw no such potential in Odysseus. Schneizel, however, was different. And no matter how much our chess games infuriated me, I knew that I needed him.
"At any rate, our chess games grew into something much more complicated. We no longer stared at the board in silence, but instead spoke of other topics. Without a single lecture, he taught me much of politics, of how to win people, of how to speak so one never lied, but never told the entire truth. Schneizel taught me how to use people. The stupid ones, the brilliant ones, the mediocre ones, and the eccentric ones.
"One afternoon, our chess game was coming to a stalemate. Such stalemates always felt like a victory for me, and Schneizel was of the same opinion. As usual, once I thought I had the game finally under control, Schneizel did the unexpected.
"It was fall, and rain was pouring down outside his study room's window. The sky was gray and it was Schneizel's move. He placed his hand on the white king, and thunder suddenly rocked across the rain-slicked grounds, rubling up against the windowpanes. When the sound died down, all that was left was the sound of the rain splattering against the window and a soft laugh escaping from my older brother's lips.
"He picked up his king, and leaned forward over the board, staring at me directly. His voice was slow and even, the rest of his body still. 'The trick is to always keep your opponent guessing.' Without another word, he tossed his white king into my lap, stood, and walked towards the door. Two steps before he reached it, the door opened, and I saw, for the first time, his aide Kanon Maldini, who stood aside as Schneizel passed, and then closed the door behind him.
"Never had anyone seemed so mysterious and powerful as Schneizel did that day. I slowly put the white king back onto the table, and pondered his words. Certainly, I was in my older brother's palm, guessing wildly. But I was finally beginning to understand the kind of person I had to be.
"In order to keep my head above the toxic water of the Imperial Court, I could never let anyone know what it was I truly wanted. If I let anyone know I was after power, I would be killed. If I told anyone I did not want power, I would be cast aside. But if I walked the fine line between the two, if I kept them guessing about my true motives, I could gather enough friends to keep my enemies at bay, and enough enemies to keep my friends behaving as my allies. The truth, I would always keep to myself, and use the truths belonging to anyone else as weaponry. As Schneizel often said to me, knowledge is power. And if only I had the knowledge of my own desires, then only I had power over myself.
"Months later, I was perfecting this tight-rope walk. As I became more and more aware of the play of power around me, of the whispered gossip of the maids, of the dramatic speeches of the nobles, and of the casual talk between my favorite siblings, I took steps to ensure my security and that of Nunnally.
"I would not suffer to have simply learned my place. I had learned my place when Maleyna had attempted to kill me, and I was unsatisfied with it. I could not be an ordinary prince from an ordinary birth. I had to be an extraordinary prince, one who outshone others. I had to become so spectacular that others sought my favor, that the question of my mother's birth was not questionable.
"Furthermore, I knew I could do it. I had already been passing the lessons my tutors gave me at a rate that often leant comparisons to Schneizel. I was already years ahead of Clovis. Of course, my reasons for working so hard were completely unknown to my half-siblings and my tutors. Only Schneizel could have possibly guessed, but it was satisfying to even entertain the idea that Schneizel might actually be spending his time guessing my motives.
"One thing I had through all of this was, of course, Nunnally. As full siblings, we shared a special bond, and unbreakable one. We shared everything. Our thoughts and promises, our wishes and dreams, between us nothing and everything was sacred.
"However, I knew it would be as disastrous for her to grow up completely ignorant as it would be for me. On a certain level, Nunnally understood this as well as I did. She, too, had nearly been thrown from a tower. We were in the same danger, both under the shadow cast by the misconception that our mother was somehow less than the other women at court.
"But I was still the elder. My mother and I shared the duty of taking care of Nunnally, which also meant protecting her. And I understood the best way to do this. Nunnally had to become a princess as extraordinary as the prince I longed to become.
"To do this, I shared stories of every encounter with her, and often brought her along to afternoon tea, luncheons, and chess matches so she could, like me, learn to navigate the world of deception and half-truths. Together we watched and learned and listened, and in the evenings, as we did our homework and prepared for bed, we exchanged our ideas. We slowly built the world around us, gave shape to the web of gossip and traced the lines of power.
"And amidst all this, under the careful gaze and measured threat of our mother, Nunnally and I thrived. We were slowly proving that having eight titles or having none made no difference in a person's intelligence. We had faith in our own abilities, and worked to align ourselves with our strongest siblings, and the ones who were least likely to betray us. We reasoned that our affection for Euphie was well-placed because through her, we had access to Cornelia, who was already becoming a formidable presence. We knew Carine would always question an alliance as a form of impending revenge and thus kept her at a close distance, always guessing. On Saturdays, Nunnally acted as a page for Odysseus, who was then just reaching into politics. One morning a week, I acted as Guinevere's calculator as she balanced Britannia's budget and checked the reserves.
"The goal was to be everywhere and completely harmless. By the time anyone realized we two siblings actually had some influence, it would be too late for anyone to stop us. Like Cornelia, we would be a force to be reckoned with. Like Schneizel, we would be the ones from whom others wished to garner favor. We planned our actions so that when everyone finally took notice of us, we bedazzled them with our brilliance, and they could no longer do without us.
"It was the art of always keeping others guessing, but never out loud. It was implying without lying, waiting for the perfect opportunity, and creating ourselves as the hyperboles of royalty.
"We did it for ourselves, and for each other. We did it for our mother, so she did not have such a heavy burden to bear. And, in a way, we did it for our father, so that he could hear the praise passed on, and be proud of these two children.
"As it turned out, we built our plans on three false assumptions. One, that our careful cultivation of allies would be useful in any circumstance. Two, that our father actually cared as our mother told us he did. And three, that our mother held the infinite power to keep us alive. All it took was one incident for all three of our base beliefs to crumble.
"I woke up late one morning. I remember that I was silently cursing my laziness, and that of our maids, because I was due for a riding lesson. I was certain that Clovis, who accompanied me during these lessons, would have taken my favorite mount to use for himself.
"I got dressed hurriedly, and stepped outside my room. The halls of our suite were eerily empty, lacking the usual morning bustle of the serving staff. Something about the situation struck me as entirely odd, and I began to worry. About what, I had no idea. It was simply the feeling that something was wrong. That some fabric of the world had suddenly been ripped asunder. I reasoned with myself to keep from running down the hallway, but in the end, I could not stop myself from at least checking Nunnally's room.
"She was not there, but the sheets had been thrown back from her bed, and were not carefully folded at the foot as was her custom. Panic seized me, and my ten-year-old feet took me immediately towards my mother's room, which was on the other side of the suite. I sprinted down the hallway, adrenaline spiking in my veins, and as I approached the grand staircase, I saw a crowd of the serving staff huddled together, their hands at their mouths.
"My mother was at the base of the steps, her black hair fanned out across her back, her pale wrists flung out. I stood there, and slowly took a step down towards her, trying to make sense of the situation.
"That dark puddle around her, dripping slowly down the steps, was blood. The strange pattern of fabric around her middle was where bullets had torn her clothing and the blood had leaked out of her. It wasn't my mother anymore. It was simply her body.
"And underneath her, trembling and blood-stained, was Nunnally. I screamed.
"My mind kept screaming even after my lungs had stopped. What continued after that first, horrifying moment was a blur, a long, unending stream of maids holding my hand, doctors talking to each other above my head, sterile beeps from the medical devices surrounding my broken sister, and a white noise that enveloped my mind. For a day, I was not a person. I was reduced to a lost little creature, an empty, childlike shell. I didn't know what would happen to me, or what would happen to Nunnally. Nothing would compute. Everything precious to me had been taken.
"That night, my mind resurfaced. When it did, I was no longer a child aiming to be an extraordinary prince.
"I was an extraordinary prince.
"I paced in my room, contemplating who could have attacked my family, their motives, their plans, and ultimately, their demise. I swore revenge on the list in my head, on the one who had orchestrated the assault. Free from protecting anyone but myself for the time being, I gathered my knowledge and prepared to mentally cross off names. There was a list of nearly a hundred consorts and two ex-wives who were suspects. Almost forty half-siblings who were potential culprits. Had the target been Nunnally, or my mother? And where had our guards been?
"By morning, however, I expected the case to have been solved. I knew there were people whose job it was to figure out this sort of thing. Murders were only committed or attempted if they could be pulled of well and without evidence, and hence were hardly every attempted. Yet my mother's murder remained a mystery.
"Impatient, I investigated on my own, knowing full well the dangers of doing so. If I, a lone and vulnerable prince unprotected by the fearsome Marianne, were caught by the culprit, I had no chance. And in this, my motives would be obvious to any observer. My mother was dead, and her murderer unknown. I treaded carefully, but confidently. If I showed weakness, I would only be more likely to be attacked. I tried to find those who I might be safe with, but Cornelia kept me from Euphie. I was warned to stay away, lest I bring the same catastrophe down on Celestra. Only Diana was willing to shelter me for any length of time, but she was only able to because everyone knew she was useless. However, this meant she was useless for me as well. In other words, my investigation was frustratingly fruitless.
"I paced and waited for signs of improvement in Nunnally and the murder case. For the most part, it was in vain. Nunnally never walked, and refused to open her eyes. She couldn't speak about the event, and no one else had any light to shed on the situation.
"Furious, I requested an audience with my father. I demanded to know why my mother was dead, and why there had been no one there to protect her. If he cared about us or even about her, he would see justice done, and I had yet to see any signs of justice.
"He, the might Emperor of Britannia, would not listen, and treated me as nothing more than an insolent and ungrateful child. His words will never leave me. 'Lelouch, since the moment of your birth, you have been dead.'
"I have lived every day since then as if I were. Though, I suppose that has been rather more true since Zero Requiem.
"But that is a story for later. And if I am not mistaken, that is the sound of other students returning to this ship."
Phoenix clicked his PD's recording off and rolled over, staring out his cabin's window at the starlit sea. Lelouch's tale had been… unlike anything he had ever heard. It was pure poetry of history. It was why he had listened to it again before letting himself sleep.
Although it was no surprise to hear that Lelouch had been a young prince in Pendragon—that was common knowledge—it was something entirely different to hear what went on in such a life, and how it affected the mindset of such a young child. It was eerie, frightening almost, how Phoenix was slowly watching the stage being set for the tyrant to come. How the tangled threads of his childhood were already beginning to weave a dangerous cloth.
He swallowed and closed his eyes, pulling his blankets up to his ears. He wasn't exactly sure where this adventure into the past was taking him. Three days ago, he had been ecstatic to find Zero's grave. And now he was interviewing his idol's nemesis and slowly discovering the colors of the ancient, elaborate tapestry known as Lelouch vi Britannia.
Phoenix knew he would unravel such a tapestry, no matter the cost. Even if it put his life in danger, Phoenix could not stop.
And this was what made him shiver as he pulled his blankets closer, and tried to sleep.
End Chapter Three
* Instead of "an elementary particle that has zero or integral spin and obeys statistical rules that place no restriction on the number of identical particles that may be in the same state" (Encarta World English Dictionary), Phoenix uses the word (which may be in noun or verb form) to mean "a deceitful, but not intentionally harmful person that may frustrate others". This meaning does comes from particle physics, namely the "Higgs boson", a particle that for quite a long time misled physicists about the true nature of the universe. In 504 A.W.E., a team of researchers at the Britannia Superconducting Super Collider (BSSC) proved the existence of the Higgs boson, setting the stage for close light-speed travel and the colonization of Mars. (see . for more information)
As a verb, "to boson [direct object]" means "to frustrate", "to creep around", or "to hide". However, "to boson [indirect object]" means "to lie" or "to deceive". As a noun, it is often used with the verb "to play" or "to act (as)".
Author's Notes: I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Please, please review and let me know what you think. This chapter has been different because it includes A LOT of Lelouch's childhood. Please tell me what you think about that. Also, I love to hear guesses about what you think will happen next (though I do not give out spoilers or foreshadowing other than what's in the story already). Any questions, compliments, and criticisms are welcome. Thanks for reading!
Special thanks to Spunkay Spunk for helping me fix Lulu's birthday!
