The Witch and the Grandmother
White-hot sparks flew as the Sword skittered across stone before stopping by the mouth of the cave. Ears ringing, Lelouch looked up at the dark sky. He could see birds circling around, waiting to pick at his bones after the troll had had his way with him. The thought was less than reassuring, and he tried to get back up. He wanted to get up, he wanted to fight again – he still hadn't forgotten the crow's screams – her screams – but the monster was too strong for him. It had been playing with him since the beginning, treating him like a rag-doll and tossing him here and there. He could feel his heart in his throat and resisted the urge to retch, both from the pain of being thrown onto a pile of broken bones and the troll's putrid breath as it leered down at him, its lips curling back into a sneer.
He tried to grab ahold of something, a stick, a bone, whatever, to use in his defense, but the shards only stabbed his palms. Closing his eyes to block out the sight of the beast's slimy mouth, he lay completely still when the troll stopped growling. Opening his eyes, he looked up, wondering what had happened for it to freeze and watched as it bent down to sniff…His blood? Why was it—
He started as it suddenly reared back and let loose a ground-shaking roar. Scrambling away, he eyed the beast as it started pulling at its coarse, wiry hair before glancing at the Sword. It was just behind the troll, but if it continued to be distracted by whatever it was that had caught its attention, he could just make it and then—
"You!"
He stared with wide eyes at the bone-chilling voice. As if multiple men and women were speaking at once, the monster's hands slid away from his eyes, revealing his left eye, which had turned blood-red, before screaming, "Why did it have to be you?"
And then it shrunk. Its body distorting, Lelouch could only watch in horror as it changed shape and form – first into Alexei, then a strange woman with wild raven hair who he had never seen before, and then the princess and his Majesty, the King, until the Witch stood before him with one bright blue eye and another red. But he didn't even have time to register the troll's sudden and nightmarish transformation. She – it – lunged forward, and he barely managed to avoid the attack. Her nails drawing blood, he lost his balance and fell hard. But he could only watch as she gracefully straightened up and turned to face him. Her silky hair settling around her shoulders, she smirked, licking her lips, before maliciously speaking to him in the voice he had so grown to love.
"What's the matter? Don't I deserve a little kiss for everything I've done for you? I know you want to, so don't be shy and come here and give me a little kiss, sweetheart!"
Snarling, she sprinted towards him. Just barely managing to roll out of the way, he clambered up onto his feet and raced towards the Sword. That wasn't her, he reminded himself. No matter how much it looked like her and no matter how much it sounded like her, what he saw before him wasn't her. It was the troll, not the witch. It was playing tricks on him, having managed to worm its way into his head. The sooner he realized and accepted the mirage in front of him wasn't the woman he had fallen in love with, the better and the more likelier he'd be able to walk away with his life and return to her, the real person he loved, and not some fake.
He fell hard as her hand snatched up his ankle. His fingertips brushed the Sword as he resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and just give up. He was so exhausted and so battered and bruised, and there was nothing more that he wanted than to just give up, to give in to his misery. But he knew he couldn't because it wasn't just his life that was in danger. It was her life too, and since he had gotten themselves into this mess, he had to be the one to get them out. Even if it killed him later on, he was going to become King. Even if he had to trade in an arm and a leg, he was going to sit on the throne. He had been willing to trade in his heart; his limbs would be nothing compared to that sacrifice.
Crushing his hand with the heel of her boot, she watched him, waiting for him to scream. When all she received was a strangled groan, she swiftly kicked his stomach before cackling.
"What's wrong? Feeling a little under the weather, boy? Well, get up!" she hissed. "Get up and fight me with everything you have, so I can show you just how weak and helpless you really are."
His hand dead at his side, he unsteadily got up onto his feet and faced her. It was so hard to remember that it wasn't her. They looked so alike, save for the eyes, and even then, the color kept changing every time the illusion blinked, from blue to gold to a blood-red and then back to blue again. How could he bear to kill her when he couldn't help but fall into the obvious trap the troll had lay out for him?
"I must say, you've surprised me. Most who manage to survive this long want the Crown, But not you, huh? You want something else, don't you? Or rather, someone else. Are you trying to become King for her? But why? Why risk your life to marry a woman you don't love? Why bother?"
"That's none of your business." Gritting his teeth, Lelouch struggled to straighten up as it shrugged, tossing her hair over its shoulder.
"I was just trying to help you. I'll let you go now if you want. You can turn and run. Of course, you'll have to give up on being King and whatever other reason you're trying to marry the Princess, but I'll let you live if you choose to run. No? Are you sure? This is your one and only chance to walk away with your life."
When he stood rooted to his spot, it smiled before moving towards the fallen blade. Studying the Sword for some time, she kicked it towards him.
"It's no fun if it's only one-sided. Now pick up the sword!"
But before he could even bend down, she crossed the space between them in a flash and tackled him. Her fingers curling around his throat, he gasped and tried to free himself, but the noose around his neck only tightened with a crazed smile.
"The greed of humans never fails to amaze me. What's the point of amassing great wealth? To live comfortably, you say? But can gold buy you what you truly want to get out of life? Don't you think that chasing after treasure all of the time is a pathetic waste of a life?"
His eyes fluttered as her voice echoed as if she were at the end of a tunnel. Black spots danced before his eyes, and his chest felt as if it were going to explode. He struggled for his life, but she – or rather, the troll – was far too strong for him to do anything, and all he could do was listen as she screamed at him.
"Look at me! Look at me, I have all of the gold and riches you could possibly want. And yet, the most important thing that someone could ever wish for, the most important thing for living, I don't have and can't possibly ever have! You humans are so dim-witted; we try to teach you again and again that wealth isn't important, that it's not the point of life, and yet, every time, you manage to forget our teachings and go out of your way to get yourselves killed! And for what? All for a stupid little—"
In the few seconds where her grip slackened, and he shoved her off of him. He could feel the small pebbles and gravel digging into the wounds of his hand from when he had thrown into her eyes. Scrambling for the Sword, he finally managed to pick it up long enough to smoothly slide the blade into her chest.
Sinking to his knees, he held her to his chest as he tried to hold back his tears and his shame. Because in that moment he had picked up the Sword, in that moment he had pointed the tip at her heart, he had felt a deep burning hatred for the witch. The violence and the rage had been so intense, he hadn't been able to remember that the one before him was the troll and that the witch had just been an illusion intended to torment and weaken him. He hadn't been trying to kill the troll and save his life in those few seconds – he had been trying to kill the witch. So he started apologizing even if he knew it wasn't really her in his arms. If he knew that the blood soaking through his shirt wasn't her blood and that it wasn't her ragged breath that was filling the silence of the Forest, he apologized to her because in the back of his head, he couldn't help but wonder if this was all an elaborate trap set up by the King, that perhaps the King had discovered where his heart truly lay, and had manipulated him into killing her. He couldn't help but think that it was really her, and he couldn't help the tears that spilled over as he apologized.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be."
He stared with wide eyes at the troll, which had once been so monstrous and was now no more larger than a five-year-old. He could just barely make out the traces of a wizened old man as it smiled at him.
"Don't be sorry, my son. You finally gave me what I've wished for all these years…"
"What…?"
And then before he could ask any questions or it could say anything more, the old man crumbled into dust.
. . .
"You gave him the Sword of Akasha? Child, do you realize what that means?"
"It's not him, Mama," the witch sighed. "He has a different destiny."
"And how would you know that? I thought you hated divination."
"I know him enough to say that it's not him. He has human blood in him. It's not him. I've tried to see whether it was him or not, and it's definitely not."
"Maybe because you looked when he was asleep. Lost in the Further, hmm?"
"I'm not discussing this any longer. It's not him. I don't know how many times I have to repeat myself, but Lelouch Lamperouge is not the one from the prophecy. I may not know as much as you, Mama," she said in a hard voice, "but I know at least that much."
There was a sullen silence as she finished sewing the ribbon on the dress and knotting the thread. Without looking up, she heaved a sigh and asked, "What is it now?"
"You love him."
"I don't—"
"It wasn't a question. You love the boy, don't you? You can't hide anything from Mama, child. I was the one who found you and raised you all those years ago. You can fool everyone else, but you can't fool Mama. I know you like the back of my hand. I'm only surprised you've managed to fool yourself for so long. You're usually not this stupid."
"Self-preservation is not stupid," she growled.
"It is if it's at the cost of your happiness. What have I always told you, darling? What has Mama always told you?"
"…That even witches deserve to be happy and loved."
"That's right. Even witches deserve to be happy and loved. I forget it too, darling – forgetting things like that can be so easy when you're scared. But after your boy gave me a tongue-lashing in your defense, I don't think I'll be able to forget it for a long time, even with my old age. He was quite angry with us all, saying that we were all liars and that there wasn't any reason for you to be isolated. He was very worked up. Very upset."
"…He's stupid like that."
"Kindness and stupidity are two completely different things, love. One can save the world, the other can destroy it. Kindness is him standing up in your honor. Stupidity is why you haven't realized what him defending you means."
She sat still, the wind gently playing with her long hair, as the elderly woman kissed her fondly on the forehead and shuffled away, leaving the witch to ponder just who the true fool had been all this time.
. . .
"Are you sure you don't need a doctor? I can call the royal physician if you'd like."
"I'm fine," he smiled. "A little bruised, but otherwise fine."
"But your hand…"
She gently brushed the pale cloths wrapped around his hand and fingers before abruptly embracing him. Taken aback, he stood stock still before slowly wrapping his arms around her.
"I was so worried about you. Gone for nearly a week in the Forest. What happened in there, Lelouch? You looked as if you had come back from the dead."
"I told you, didn't I, Princess? That I'd go to hell and back if it means I can be with you."
"Do you really love me that much?"
"Of course."
"Then can you tell me? That you love me."
He held her hands and opened his mouth to tell her that he loved her, just as he had before. But for some reason, all he could think about was the witch and the moment that had passed between them in the carriage. He had been on the verge of kissing her – he knew he couldn't deny it – and so had she. He could still remember how pleasing her perfume was and how pretty her smile had been that night at the ball before everything had slowly started to come to a ruin, and he could especially remember how she had gotten out of bed the moment she had thought that he was asleep and how lonely she had looked that morning. And as he thought of the witch and how she had smiled at him and had put on a brave face just for him and his damned wish, he couldn't bring himself to tell the Princess that he loved her. Not now, not after he had realized just how much he loved the witch.
"Thank you for everything you've given me, Lelouch. I don't think I'd be lucky enough to meet such a kind and brave person as you. So thank you for coming to me. Thank you for risking your life for me."
He only smiled as she buried her face in his chest, all the while wondering how the Witch would greet him once they reunited.
. . .
C.C. was at the lagoon with the children, playing with the sparkling water with one of the babies while keeping an eye on the other older boys and girls who were busy splashing in the warm waters, when Anya suddenly appeared and quietly said, "There are people looking for you, C.C. Humans."
"How close are they?"
"Not very. But I think they're part of the royal guard."
She looked up at her words, and the elf stared back, waiting for her to stand up.
"…Will you tell everyone where I went?"
She nodded, and she handed her the baby, who clung to her and whimpered. Prying her shirt loose, she gently pinched his cheek before tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.
"Anya, can you do something for me?"
"What is it?"
"Can you please tell Mama that I'm not as stupid as she thinks I am? She'll understand."
She nodded again, and the witch thanked her before heading to the pond that would take her to the prince she no longer wished to see.
. . .
The first thing that she noticed was the cut on his cheekbone and his bandaged hand. Glancing up, she stared at him with a raised brow, but he merely smiled and slid his hand behind him as if to say that there was nothing wrong and that he was fine. He was lying, obviously, but she didn't say anything. She neither had the desire to nor the opportunity to ask as at that moment, the Princess rushed up to her, the full skirt of her dress momentarily engulfing her legs from her sprint. Grabbing her hand, she beamed at her.
"Thank you so much, C.C. If it weren't for you, Father would have never approved of our union. I'm so grateful to you!"
"Congratulations on your engagement, your Highness. I did nothing. It was mostly Lelouch. He truly loves you."
"Nonsense! You must be rewarded properly. What would you like? I'm sure Father would be willing to grant your heart's desire, so long as it's reasonable."
"Thank you, but unfortunately…Unfortunately, my only wish has been granted."
"Really? By who?"
The witch looked past her shoulder at the man, who couldn't bear to meet her gaze. Turning, Kaguya glanced between the pair before smiling widely.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're content. But you'll at least attend the wedding, won't you?"
"I don't think I can make any promises at the moment."
"Oh, do come. We would so love to have you there. Don't you agree, Lelouch?"
"…It wouldn't be the same without you, C.C."
"You see? Please attend the wedding, C.C. I promise you, it'll be like nothing you've ever seen before. There will be orchestras and dozens of roses and…Oh, really?"
The Princess looked up at the servant, who had bent down to whisper something into her ear.
"Is it really here?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"Oh, how wonderful! Lelouch, it seems like the wedding dress has arrived. I've been waiting for this moment all my life. I'll be right back, darling. Stay here; the royal physician is on his way to tend to your wounds."
When the door closed behind her and left the two alone, the farmer – who was now on the brink of becoming a prince – moved to say something, to ask her where she had been during the week he had been in the Forest, when she smiled and said, "Congratulations, Lelouch. After everything you've gone through, your reward is right in front of your nose. You must be excited."
"C.C.—"
"It seems as if the Princess will make a kind and loving wife."
"C.C., please just—"
"C.C.!"
Clovis bounded into the room as he offered a sweeping bow to his future prince and a rose to the young woman. Kissing her knuckles, he straightened up and pointedly showed his back to the prince as he blatantly ignored the strained atmosphere.
"I've been looking all over for you. Come, come, we have to prepare you for the dinner. We haven't got much time, so we should probably move to your room and begin. It takes a lot of work, you know, in order to make one's appearance appropriate for the company of the King when you don't have any magic to help you. What are you waiting for?"
"…Nothing, I suppose."
Lelouch could only watch her leave until he blurted out her name. She came to a stop, and he, not knowing what else to say or do, desperately said, "Thank you…For everything. I…I couldn't have done it without you."
"Don't thank me," she replied lightly. "Thank Lady Luck. She's the one who blessed you after all, so that you could fish me out of the river that morning."
And then she was gone before he could say anything more, and the farmer – who was now a prince – was left to curse his blindness.
A/N: My hatred for this story is awe-inspiring. How do I manage to screw up everything that I touch?
