Late update, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. :)

Lesson X

Destinies Intertwined

Palace of the Emperor, five months ago.

There was a fleeting moment of silence, until at last Emperor Charles decided to break it. "What would you need the Knights of the Round for?" he asked, his voice sounding perfectly cold and detached despite the gravity of the matter at hand. The Knights of the Round were a group of people under the direct order of the Emperor himself, and that someone – even his Majesty's very own brother – was ordering him to dispatch them, was simply unheard of.

V.V.'s expression remained neutral, well aware of this unspoken fact himself. "The public knows that Zero is dead. The only ones left to be captured are the Black Knights and their accomplices – including C.C." He paused. "In the event that C.C. tries to go anywhere near Lelouch, it is to our best interest to have members of the Britannian military nearby to capture her."

Charles narrowed his eyes. "The Knights of the Round know nothing about the geass."

V.V. lifted his chin. "Ah, fret not, Charles. It will not be necessary to tell them anything about the geass. The only thing they need to know is that C.C. needs to be captured, and that the likelihood of accomplishing this will be much greater if they enter Ashford Academy." He gave his brother a humorless smile. "I don't think anyone will complain about their late admission if it's a command from the Emperor himself, won't they?"

Without giving his brother a chance to respond, V.V. shrugged, signaling that this meeting was over. "It was just a suggestion, Charles. You may or may not send them to the school. But please make sure that we have enough men in Ashford Academy to capture C.C. once she appears." A grim smile makes its way to his lips. "The game of cat and mouse has grown boring over the years, and I hope we can end it as soon as we can."

Charles' reply was a curt nod, his face a mask devoid of any emotion. "I will think about it, brother."

x ~ x ~ x

Gottwald Estate, five months ago.

Anya quickly stepped away from Jeremiah, as if burned. "I'm going home," she snapped, the words coming out sharper than she intended. She glared at the ex-margrave, all the while trying to slow down her suddenly erratic heart. Damn this man and his stupid connection to her memories. Things would have been so much easier if they had nothing to do with each other.

Jeremiah heaved a quiet sigh, as if unwilling to have another argument with her. All things considered, he was holding up pretty impressively, especially if what she had been told about his temper was true. "I understand, Lady Alstreim. I only came here to see you off." As though sensing her apprehension, the man offered her a polite, almost kind smile. "You don't have to worry about the time that you were gone. I contacted the base and – "

"You did what?" Anya asked before she could stop herself, her voice having a certain edge to it. The last thing she imagined Jeremiah doing was getting in touch with the military base himself – not after the Orange fiasco, and especially not when he was supposed to be dead. "What do you mean you contacted them?"

Jeremiah frowned, clearly not appreciating the outburst. "I told them I'm a retired Britannian noble, and a friend of the Alstreim from a long way back. I said you came here for a short visit, but you fell sick because of exhaustion and the weather," he said. "I said you're under my care, and that you'll be back as soon as you're feeling well."

Anya narrowed her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts. "And they believed that?" she asked after a long pause, sounding a litle calmer this time. She didn't want to admit it, but Jeremiah's little story sounded pretty convincing, and what he had done certainly saved her from a lot of questions from the people in the base.

"I only spoke to one person, the young man who claimed to be your best friend," Jeremiah said with a frown, as if talking to that particular friend of Anya had been draining and a little unpleasant. "He was a little skeptic at first, so I invited him over to this estate. He seemed very busy, but he stopped by on the evening of your first day here to check up on you."

Anya frowned. The only person who would dare claim to be her best friend was Gino, and if Jeremiah was telling the truth, then… "He visited me…?" she repeated, wondering why the man didn't tell her all these important details when she first woke up. "Why didn't you tell me all of this sooner?"

Jeremiah gave her a strange look. "If I remember correct, the first thing we did when you woke up was argue," he said, in a tone that suggested it was her fault and not his own. "In any case, your friend promised me that he'll keep your disappearance from the base a secret for as long as he could, and that I should tell you not to worry about anything but getting better." A slight frowned tugged at his lips. "I believe he knows about your memories?"

Anya looked away, cursing herself for letting Jeremiah figure out so much about her in such a short span of time. "He's my best friend," she said quietly. She had long told Gino of her strange condition and the random flashes of memories that had been stealing her consciousness ever since she was eight years old – if only because he was her best friend in the world.

"I'm your best friend, Anya!" Gino insisted, even when the expression on his face indicated that he was aware how the Knight of Six didn't quite agree with that statement. "You have to tell me so I can help you!"

"I'm glad to know that."

At this the Knight of the Rounds couldn't help but look back at the ex-margrave. "Glad?" she repeated, the puzzlement undisguised in her tone. Why would Jeremiah be glad about Gino knowing about her condition? Is he stupid?

"You have a friend to share your burden with, Lady Alstreim. That's quite rare," Jeremiah said, sounding so serious and sincere that Anya couldn't doubt that he meant the words he was speaking. Strange, but it almost seemed like the man was lonely.

Anya inhaled, stifling her curiosity and concern. She had more things to think about instead of wasting her time on Jeremiah. Of all people. "You said Gino came here for a visit," she said instead, her overanalyzing mind getting the better of her. "Does that mean he saw you?" she asked, silently wondering if Jeremiah had some sort of death wish. It was bad enough that he spared her life after seeing him alive and well, but that he invited another Knight of the Round to this very estate was even worse. It wasn't as if there was anything stopping her from telling the Emperor about him being alive.

As if reading her thoughts, Jeremiah shook his head. "No, of course not. I am dead to the world, Lady Alstreim. That I'm alive is a fact known only by a very few, and it should be kept that way, at least for now. I had another Britannian play the part of the retired noble that I claimed to be, and he was the one who received your friend."

Anya scoffed. "You have this all figured out, huh," she said, before lifting her gaze to the Mordred. Talking to Jeremiah was making her feel like she had been unconscious for much longer than she was told.

The deep sigh that Jeremiah heaved following this remark was enough to tell Anya how frustrated he was with her. "I only did what I thought was best, Lady Alstreim," he said, the words sounding strangled from his lips. The struggle to keep his temper from flaring couldn't have been more apparent in his tone.

Not that Anya cared. It wasn't as if she asked him to do any of this for her. "You understand you didn't have to, don't you?" she asked, just the same. The last thing she would want was for Jeremiah to be left thinking that she owes him for all that he had done for her so far.

Jeremiah looked at her warily, as if trying to figure out where this line of questioning was headed. "I do."

"So why did you still do it?"

The ex-margrave blinked in surprise, his sharp features twisting into a deep frown when he realized what the question was. "Why are you asking me this?" he muttered, a flicker of anger in his eyes as he stared at her. "Isn't it enough that I helped you without asking for anything in return?"

Anya smirked. "Only after attempting to kill me in the battlefield," she pointed out, lifting her chin defiantly upon seeing the uncertainty dawn on Jeremiah's face. The man clearly didn't expect that she would bring that up. "Was it the mention of my missing memories that stopped you – because you thought it was somehow related to the geass?"

Jeremiah started, looking absolutely upset by what she was doing. "I – it wasn't – " He huffed, clenching his jaw as he stared at her evenly. "It was a reason, among many others."

Anya arched an eyebrow. "And what would those other reasons be?"

Jeremiah fixed her with a somber look, as though assessing how intent she was on having her question answered. "The territory that you crossed is a restricted area that only people who are somehow connected to the geass would be able to find. At first I thought your intrusion was simply a mistake, but when you mentioned your missing memories… " He furrowed his eyebrows, his expression turning just a little grimmer. "I had no other choice but believe that a geass was the reason behind it, Lady Alstreim."

A smirk tugged the corners of Anya's lips. "If I believe that, then it will mean I've been connected to the geass ever since I was eight, maybe seven years old." She looked away to the beautiful landscape that surrounded the estate, wondering how everything could be so peaceful when her own heart and mind were in turmoil. "That means my life has never been mine all along."

Jeremiah had no response to this, and the young woman felt a cynical smile form her lips. She turned back to the ex-margrave, feeling her heart constrict as she made out the mixture of resolve and despair in his eyes. She didn't know why, or how, but in some detached part of her mind she finally understood why the man had saved her. Jeremiah didn't kill her because she was connected to the geass, but even more than that: He didn't kill her because of what the geass had done to her.

"You…" she started, finally realizing the unsettling flicker of loneliness in his eyes. "You were looking for someone who could understand," she said, the words sounding strange even to her ears. "Weren't you?"

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes, as if the words struck. "I…" he hesitated. "I suppose I was… in a way," he muttered, like he was suddenly discomfited by how casually she had said the words that he couldn't.

Anya kept her stare at him, letting the meaning of the words sink in as she marveled at how easily the ex-margrave had admitted to them. It was almost enviable, how he seemed confident enough of himself to bother with what she would think about him saving her for that reason.

"The geass canceller…" she found herself saying, taking one tentative step closer to him. "You have it, don't you?"

A look of confusion made its way to Jeremiah's face, more for the actual question than anything else. "I'm… I'm not supposed to. At least not yet – not until the experiment is finished and – " He stopped. "You… was that the reason that you fell unconscious? When I touched you – ?"

Anya gave a somber nod. "Can you hold me again?" she asked quietly, feeling the coldness creep over her body as soon as the words left her lips. "If I can see those memories again, then I – " she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing " – I think I can believe the existence of the geass."

Jeremiah looked like he was torn between being pleased and being concerned by this development. "I can't assure you that you will see the memories again but…" He glanced down to his hands, as if what she was telling him was a contradiction to all the things that he knew about the geass canceller. "I suppose there's no harm in giving it a try."

Anya held her breath as the man reached out to touch her, the warmth of his hand against her cheek sending a tingling sensation down her spine. The young woman instinctively closed her eyes, raising a hand to put over his own upon the onslaught of the memories that she had been desperately looking for, for a very long time.

The middle-aged woman smiled at Anya through the mirror as she brushed the child's hair. "Try to impress the Empress, all right, Anya?" she said, her crimson eyes holding the gaze of the girl in her lap. "Make sure to show them what you can do!"

"I will, Mama! I will be the best lady-in-waiting that the Empress ever had!" Anya cheered, the smile on her lips so carefree and true as she embraced her mother. "I will make you and Papa very proud of me!"

Anya tightened her grip around Jeremiah's hand, keeping her eyes tightly shut despite the sudden twinge in her chest.

"Anya Alstreim?" the same woman was saying, although this time she looked a little older and just a bit wearier, like a person who had lost the will to live after losing something that was precious to her. "I don't… I don't think I've heard of the name before."

Anya started, the haunting desperation in her chest contradicting the brilliant lights and cheerful music that made the evening seem so festive. "Would you happen to have a daughter?" she asked, clenching the sides of the beautiful gown that matched the color of her eyes.

The woman's reply was a sad smile, and Anya wondered why it felt as if her own heart was breaking, even when the baroness was supposed to be nothing but a stranger bearing the same name of Alstreim. "She passed away when she was six years old," the Britannian noble said, unwilling tears escaping her eyes and slipping down her cheeks as she looked at Anya. "I-I'm sorry, it's just that I… I loved my daughter very much…"

Anya opened her eyes, surprising even herself when she became fully aware of the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. She looked up at Jeremiah, silently reprimanding herself for not being able to keep her tears from falling when she was still in front of him, and gritted her teeth in an attempt to regain control of herself. "I've seen enough," she breathed out, only too thankful that she didn't stutter as she stepped away from the ex-margrave.

She lowered her head so that she was looking at the grassy field underneath her feet, unwilling to lift her head lest he saw how ridiculously tearful she was at that moment. "Leave," she murmured, the tone of her voice making it sound more like an order than a request. "Please leave."

Jeremiah was quiet, and even without looking Anya was sure that his concern for her was genuine. "I understand," he simply said, giving a courteous bow before stepping away to let her gather herself.

As soon as the fallen margrave was out of her sight, the young woman finally let go of the tears that she had been holding back. She gripped the side of the Mordred's legs, her small frame shaking violently as she cried.

A lie. Her whole life had been a lie. All the things she had believed in for the last eight years of her life had been nothing but make-believe, the biggest falsehood that the world would have witnessed, had they known.

All her life she thought there was something wrong – there was something that didn't quite fit, and there was something that was missing.

Who would have known that she had always been right?

Anya let out a strangled moan and let herself fall to her knees, feeling as though her heart was about to burst from her chest. Anya Alstreim, Knight of Six. It was funny how the title of the highest honor seemed empty and meaningless, now that she was alone and all the world was crumbling beneath her feet.

Alone with nothing but the Mordred as her witness, Anya Alstreim cried like she had never cried in her life before. She cried for the home that had been taken away from her, and for the memories that she could not even trust. She cried for the family to whom she was dead, and for the childhood she could never get back.

She cried for herself, and for those eight long years that would never be returned to her. She cried for all the time she had wasted isolating herself from everyone, because somehow she knew she did not belong with them, and it would only hurt her if she even tried.

Not too far away, standing behind a beautiful cherry blossom tree, the ex-margrave stared at the Knight of Six and clenched his trembling fists at his sides.

It was at that moment that Jeremiah Gottwald promised himself it would be the last time that Anya Alstreim would cry.

…to be continued…

Hilaire
03.23.13