Chapter 10
Lelouch fidgeted nervously as he waited in the den nearest the door. He was waiting for his future wife to arrive, all the while wracking his brain to try to come up with a way of getting out of getting married. He could run away, he supposed. He was reasonably certain he could fake his own death well enough to fool even the Emperor, but by doing so he would lose the shot at vengeance Schneizel was presenting him.
He hated this feeling. This utter helplessness. He was losing control. No, the Emperor was taking control from him, wresting it from his feeble-fingered grip. Control over some of the most important personal decisions a person could make. After all, what was more important than choosing the person you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with?
He wondered if his mother had chosen to marry the Emperor, or if she'd been forced. Had she actually loved that cold bastard? How could she have? His mother had been beautiful and kind and passionate and it was for certain that the Emperor hadn't given a damn about her. If he had, he would have bothered to find out who had killed her instead of sweeping her children under the rug and trying to forget the vi Britannias had ever existed.
Lelouch clenched his fists as another wave of anger assuaged him. He had never hated anyone more than he hated the Emperor. First for letting his mother die. Then for abandoning himself and Nunnally in a war zone. And now this. In only two meetings, the Emperor had usurped him of his independence. He'd taken away his free will – his ability to choose.
He was a pawn. Nothing more. And he was being sold to secure another source of Sakuradite. A minor source of Sakuradite, but at least one that wasn't in a war zone. The Chapman mine was located on Vancouver Island and boasted production levels unheard of anywhere outside of Area Eleven.
Somehow, an arranged marriage had never occurred to him. Arranged marriages only happened to women who later swooned and mourned hoping for some kind of knight in shining armor to save them. He'd never once considered the position of the groom who was forced to marry. Was this normal for a man being forced to marry against his will? This feeling of utter worthlessness? He was just a lump of flesh bearing a title that was desirable. It seemed unlikely that some dashing amazon was going to suddenly appear to rescue him.
"Lady Chapman's car just arrived at the gate, sir." Edith informed him quietly. She'd been more subdued and distant the last two days than usual. An after effect of witnessing his breakdown after learning of his impending marriage, he supposed. He'd have to talk to her about it later. For now, he'd have to deal with his betrothed.
Slowly getting to his feet, he made his way to the door and out onto the steps to wait for her. It was probably good manners to go out to her, he thought. After all, he'd been the one to suddenly have Edith call her and demand that she come meet him before the wedding, which had cheerfully been scheduled for only three weeks away. She'd be staying at the villa for a few days before returning to the Chapman family estate in Portland until the wedding.
An expensive, black Rolls Royce pulled up the driveway and parked near the door. The car was spotless and - Lelouch thought with some disdain - had probably just been washed before being driven over. The driver emerged and came around to open the back door, where a young woman emerged in a smart looking designer skirt and blouse.
"A pretty little blond thing."
Yes, Schneizel had certainly described her well. She was small – petite was the word he was looking for – and very pretty. Her lips curved into a daring smirk as her blue eyes landed on him and she approached his location.
"Your highness, you do me a great honor by coming to meet me at the door." She said as she dropped into a polite curtsey.
"Please, no formality, Lady Chapman. I'm Lelouch." He said politely. "Thank you for coming all this way to meet me. Especially on so short of notice."
"It was no problem. Things are moving quickly after all. If I had delayed, we would have already been married before we met." She said with a smile. "And please, just call me Abigail if you insist on no formality."
It was only then that he noticed a hulking middle-aged man with a shaved head and dark sunglasses standing a few feet behind her. He was the very stereotypical epitome of a body guard. Lelouch half expected to see a flesh-toned earpiece nestled in the man's ear.
"Ah, this is Bruce. Father insisted that I take him with me. He didn't want me going off to the capital by myself. You know how fathers worry." She laughed. He refrained from rolling his eyes. He doubted his father had worried about him once in his life. "Just ignore him. He's a professional bodyguard, so he's used to it. I also brought a maid with me. Lindsey. She's coming in the other car with the luggage. She should arrive shortly."
"Of course. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bruce. Please, let's go inside, Abigail." He said as he politely held out his hand for her to take.
So far, so good. He could tolerate her. She wasn't exactly his type per se, but he could live with it. At least she wasn't completely brainless and she was something to look at.
She blushed and took his hand, letting him lead her up the steps and into the villa where Edith and the rest of the staff were waiting to greet her.
"This is Lady Abigail Chapman. Please do whatever you can to make her feel at home here." He said before launching into a long string of introductions – though it was slightly less intimidating than it had been for him as he was now down to only fifteen staff members. He'd fired the two maids that had accepted bribes and hadn't bothered to replace them. The villa was still overstaffed if you asked him. "And this is Edith. She's in charge here and is tremendously helpful. If you need anything, I'm sure she can get it for you."
Abigail smiled to the staff uncomfortably before turning to Lelouch. "Would you mind taking me to see the gardens, Lelouch?" She asked and proceeded to ignore everyone else in the room. "I've heard the gardens of the Aeries Villa are quite spectacular."
He frowned a little at her behavior. Strike one against her. She thought she was too good to speak to the staff. Then again, meeting so many people at once was a bit overwhelming and she was out of her element, he chided himself. Maybe she was just being shy. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, if only to keep himself from picking her apart so soon after meeting her.
"Of course. This way." He said as he began leading her way. He paused, however, when Abigail's bodyguard continued to follow them. "Ah, Edith, could you show Bruce to his rooms please? I can assure you, no harm will come to Abigail in the villa. I have a top notch security team patrolling the perimeter."
"I'm also here as a chaperone, your highness." The huge man said, staring at Lelouch significantly.
"Unbelievable." He muttered as he rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Do as you wish then, though I can assure you she'd be just as safe from me or anyone else on this estate without you."
"I told you just to ignore him." Abigail said as she tried to suppress a giggle. "Bruce has been hovering in my shadow since I was seven. If there's one think I've learned, it's that he's as stubborn as a mule. He doesn't compromise on anything."
"That had to be a bit awkward." Lelouch grumbled as he left the room, his fiance and her massive bodyguard in tow. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to always have someone lurking around. The Student Council members were his friends, so that didn't count. And neither did Edith, who was always meticulous in ensuring that he had several hours of alone time every day if he wanted it and never crowded him. She knew, almost instinctively it seemed, when he wanted solitude and when he preferred her company. But this big lug who followed Abigail around like he was stitched to her shadow was a completely different story. How had the girl managed to have a social life like that? Or did the man back off after he deemed a person worthy? And if so, then Lelouch was a little insulted. After all, he was going to have to marry the woman. That fact alone ought to speak enough on his behalf.
A part of his mind poked him and demanded to know just why he cared. It wasn't like he was planning anything inappropriate with the woman, so it didn't really matter if he tagged along for a tour of the gardens or not. But it still made him feel awkward. He didn't feel like he could have a genuine conversation with her with someone standing in the background scrutinizing every word he said. The fact that the man was technically in the employ of the Duke made it even more awkward. He had no doubt that Bruce would be reporting back to Duke Chapman about just what was said between them.
Therefore, being honest about his opinion of their marriage and how he felt about it and trying to determine just how she felt about it would have to wait until the hulk wasn't lurking around. Instead, the launched into his tour of the gardens.
"The gardens have remained more or less unchanged since before my mother died. It's still how I remember it as a child." He explained.
"Yes, well, if something is good, why change it?" She asked with a coy smile.
He tried smiling back at her, but felt the gaze of her bodyguard boring into his back. He really couldn't fathom how the woman had survived with the brute sending withering glares at anyone she met that he didn't approve of. And apparently he fell into that category.
They walked for a while, exchanging small talk and not really learning anything of importance about each other. He did, however, learn that he found her very charming. She was intelligent, witty and coy. There was an almost teasing banter that passed naturally between them. She was not a genius, but she was sly and sarcastic in a way that Lelouch could respect without becoming offended. A people person, he realized. And someone who loved attention.
"Lelouch, supper is ready for you and the Lady whenever you please." Edith said softly as she interrupted them. She bowed politely to Abigail as she spoke.
"Thank you, Edith." Lelouch said before turning to his betrothed. "Are you hungry now?"
"You let her speak to you like that?" Abigail asked, apparently appalled by the lack of formality between master and servant.
"Of course." Lelouch replied calmly, hiding his annoyance behind a kind smile. "Edith is my friend, as well as my employee. To demand formality would be rude."
"You're a prince, Lelouch and she's a servant. You shouldn't allow her to disrespect you. I'd never stand for it if any of my servants dared to address me so disrespectfully." She said malevolently as she glared at Edith. It was a stark change in personality that didn't sit well with him.
Strike two. She'd been putting on airs – pretending to be someone she wasn't. Pretending to be someone he wanted her to be. The entire point of this meeting was so they could get to know each other before they were chained to each other for the rest of their lives. Forging a fraudulent personality for this meeting defeated the entire purpose of her being here. He wanted to know if he could live with her or if he should be looking into the real estate market, as Schneizel had suggested.
"I prefer informality." Lelouch said carefully. "I can assure you, I'm not offended. In fact, I ordered Edith to address me casually. Now, would you like to join me for dinner?"
Abigail frowned at Edith for a moment before inclining her head to him and offering her hand for him to take. He did so reluctantly and sent Edith an apologetic smile before leading Abigail into the house.
They entered the house hand in hand, a strained silence fallen between them after their little tiff. Maybe it was just that he'd already put her in a bad mood or maybe she was always like this, but in any case, as they entered the entrance hall on their way to the dining room her eyes narrowed furiously at a woman dressed as a maid who was definitely not in his employ. Stacked all around the woman were various sized suitcases, garment bags and trunks - all in a matching gold and pink brocade. In the maid's hands, which he could tell were shaking even from his vantage point - was a small matching little box with a broken lid.
"I'm so sorry, your grace." The woman squeaked as Abigail dropped Lelouch's hand and began stalking forward.
"What did you do?" His betrothed snarled.
"I dropped – I mean it fell when I was unloading the car. I made sure I found everything that was in it. It's only the hinge that's broken. I'm sure it can be fixed, your excellency." The maid – Lindsey, he guessed – explained quickly.
"You idiot!" Abigail said coldly, her lips pursed into a thin line. The palm of her hand collided with a loud crack against the maid's face. For her part, the maid only winced and flinched. "You stupid, incompetent Number." The hand came up again for another slap. "Do you have any idea how much that cost me? I had it custom made by the designer himself!"
Lelouch moved quickly, his long fingers closing around his fiance's wrist before she could strike the poor woman a third time. He glared at her coldly.
Strike three.
"I would appreciate if you refrained from assaulting people while you're staying on my property." He growled watching her expressions contort from anger to surprise and back to anger again.
"She's my employee and a Number. Or can't you tell she's a Nine? She doesn't have any rights outside of the ones I give her. Now let go." She snapped.
He saw Bruce moving to intercept him out of the corner of his eye and slowly released her hand. For a moment he wanted to see just how far the man would go, wondering if he'd actually attack a Britannian prince, but then decided it wasn't worth the risk.
"Are you alright?" He asked instead as he turned his back to Abigail and faced the maid. Her left cheek was an an angry red from the force of the blows and her right cheek blushed almost to match it in her embarrassment under his attention.
"Yes, your highness." She answered, bowing to him low enough to shield her eyes where he could see the beginning of tears forming.
Maybe it was simply because strikes two and three occurred in such rapid succession, or maybe it was because the third infraction was inexcusable, but he suddenly found that his future bride was intolerable. The assaulting of an employee, it didn't matter the reason behind it, was reprehensible. But especially when the infraction committed was something so trivial. A jewelry box could be replaced, a human couldn't.
Turning on his heel, he found that Edith and one of the kitchen ladies had witnessed the scene. "I don't think I'll be joining the Lady for dinner tonight. Please, send something that I'll actually like up to my room whenever it's ready. If it's not too much trouble, Samantha." After his first night at the villa when he'd been served an extravagant five-course affair, he'd had a talk with the kitchen staff about just what kinds of foods he preferred. Needless to say, they were surprised by his simpler tastes.
"Of course, sir." The kitchen woman said quickly before hurrying away.
Lelouch left the room without another word to Abigail and retrieved a book he had been reading before she'd arrived from the den before retiring to his room. This was highly rude, of course, - almost petulant, really – but he didn't care. He wasn't going to be voluntarily spending any more time with that woman than necessary.
She was still staring at it. The envelope. Her hands were shaking a little as she read the return address.
The Moris Foundation.
The bursary they awarded every year was the most prestigious, most sought after bursary in all of Britannia, let alone Area Eleven. This was the same bursary people completing their doctorate studies applied for. The same bursary some of the best and brightest of Britannia competed for. And it was hers? Nina Einstein, a seventeen year old Britannian high school student, had come out on top?
She dropped the rest of her mail and school books in favor of carefully ripping the envelope open and sliding out a letter and a check. Glancing at the check first, her eyes widened as huge as saucers as she took in all the zeroes involved. More than she needed in order to buy a house? This was more than she needed to buy four or five houses.
She'd never dreamed – never imagined even in her wildest fantasies – that she would ever be deemed worthy enough to receive the Moris Foundation Research Bursary. She stopped herself there, and frowned. She hadn't been deemed worthy of it. She hadn't earned it. She only had this incredible check in her hand because Lelouch had willed it so.
Sighing, she opened the letter and smoothed it out. She wondered why she was even bothered. The letter wasn't the important part, after all. It was only a cover, probably forged by Lelouch himself, as a means to send her money to buy Nunnally a house.
Miss Nina Einstein,
It is with great pleasure that we would like to inform you of our selection for this year's annual Moris Foundation Research Bursary. After much consideration and meticulous study, we have selected you as our recipient. Your research on the fission of Uranium 235 isotopes shows much promise and we are delighted to help you further your study.
Nina stared at the paragraph, reading it over three or four more times in apparent shock. How had they known what her research was about? She hadn't actually applied for this particular bursary. Had Lelouch actually got it? Had he really understood what it was she was trying to do? Had he actually been able to follow her explanation one of the countless times she'd tried explaining to her friends just what she was spending so much time on? He must have. But why hadn't he said anything? Why had he just laughed it off with Rivalz and teasingly called her a nerd?
Because he hadn't wanted to draw unwanted attention to himself and Nunnally, she realized. Lelouch made so much more sense now. Lelouch was brilliant, after all. He could beat anyone she knew at chess. He understood complex mathematics, vague philosophies, and distorted social theories. They all knew that he was smart. It was one of the things that Shirley had harped on him so much about.
But if he had given schoolwork his all, he would have risked being noticed. After all, every year Prince Clovis invited the ten brightest students in Area Eleven to an extravagant banquet. If he'd actually tried, she had no doubt that Lelouch could have secured one of those ten places for himself. But that would have only have gotten him caught. So instead he'd coasted through school and kept under the radar. And in the end it didn't really matter anyway because he'd still been caught.
She felt bad for him. It would have been maddening for her to not be able to work at optimal efficiency. She had to do her best. She was just like that – a perfectionist when it came to her research and schoolwork. Obsessive, Milly called it.
At the bottom of the letter, which expounded for a full page and a half about just how impressed they were with her work, were all twelve signatures from all twelve Directors of the Foundation.
Those were real signatures. . . she hoped.
Had they really seen her work? Had they really acknowledged all of the many hours she'd spend staring at graphs and virtual recreations of nuclear fission? Or were they simply a forgery made by Lelouch?
"No." She whispered to herself as she hugged the letter to her chest. "They're real."
She would refuse to believe otherwise. Her work had been acknowledged by some of her idols. Even if the results had been tampered with, they had still seen it. Lelouch must have applied for the bursary in her name and then pulled some strings.
Had he known how much it would mean to her? Had he known just how many doors being the recipient of this particular bursary would open for her? This bursary was for the elite. The genius. The completely-brilliant-leaders-in-their-field-of-study. People would respect her research if they knew she had it. It had elevated her into an entirely different class of scientist.
By the same token, if anyone ever found out that the selection had been rigged . . . she would be completely ruined. Seventeen was too young for her entire career to go up in smoke and ruin. No one could find out about it. Ever.
At least she knew Lelouch would never betray his part in this little scheme. He cared far too much about Nunnally to ever risk it. And she had far too much to lose now to be careless about this situation. She wondered if Lelouch had planned it that way?
Lelouch awoke to the sound of his door crashing open in the middle of the night. It was not a peaceful awakening. In fact, with the sudden surge of adrenaline upon waking, Lelouch found himself half-crouched behind the bed with the bedside table poking him uncomfortably in the ribs before he could even fully analyze the situation.
"What's the meaning of this?" He demanded before his brain caught up with his mouth and told him that he would have been better off keeping his mouth shut if the intruders were hostile. He'd just given his location away.
"Prince Lelouch?" A familiar voice questioned in relief as the light flicked on. Three of the members of his security team were standing in his room, guns drawn. He recognized the man at the fore as Allan Seckel, the corporal he'd joked around with his second day at the villa.
He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting, watching as one of the men crossed the room to firmly pull the curtains closed and another closed and locked the door firmly before placing himself in front of it.
"What's going on?" Lelouch asked, a hint of trepidation leaking into his voice. The only reason for his security team to be in his bedroom in the middle of the night was if there was a viable threat to his life.
"An armed assailant made it onto the estate." Seckel grimaced. "Erikson managed to put a bullet in him, but he still took off. Like a fucking machine. He hardly paused before running off, but there was blood so we know it hit. We're here to ensure your safety, my prince."
"How did he get onto the property?" Lelouch demanded as he slowly stood up from his uncomfortably position. "Where? This villa is supposed to be almost impenetrable. Tell me everything you know."
The men exchanged an uncomfortable glance before looking downcast. "Caputo's dead." Seckel said eventually. "Nearest we can figure at the moment is that the assassin managed to come up over the western wall into the garden. Tony must have come across him there, he's the one who sent out the alarm. But by the time we got to his location, he was dead. Knife to the throat. Erikson got there first and got him in the arm or shoulder – we think. Probably just a graze, 'cause he was still moving pretty fast."
"How did he get in?" Lelouch asked as he bit back his rising panic. Not because his life was in danger, but rather because someone had died in his house. Someone he was responsible for was now dead and he was unsure how to respond. There was nothing he could do about it now, but pushing the thought away seemed wholly inappropriate. "The wall is almost fifteen feet high, lighted, topped with motion and pressure sensors, with manned patrols around it."
"Fucking spy shit." The officer next to the window mumbled as he cautiously peeked between the curtains. Lelouch thought his name was Grant. Jesse Grant, maybe.
"We don't know how he bypassed the sensors set on the wall yet, but Douglas found some high-tech rappelling equipment set up at the point of entry. He said it looked like the assassin was planning on using the same point for his escape." Seckel answered.
"Shit." Lelouch hissed as he pulled on a shirt with shaking hands, only realizing now that he was standing bare chested in nothing but his boxers. He tried to force his hands to stop shaking. He wished he wasn't as rattled as he was, but the fact that there was an assassin stalking the halls of his house searching for him, unnerved him.
He froze, hands clenching into fists, as a shot rang out in the silence that was smothering the night and only one thought entered his mind.
Nunnally.
This was what had happened to Nunnally. The terrorists (assassin) had been targeting his mother and his sister had just happened to get in the way. She'd been caught in the crossfire and had paid dearly for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Already, one person had paid the price for being in the assassin's way. How many more people would have to pay that price? How many people would he hide behind and let die in an attempt to save his own pitiful life?
If the King doesn't lead . . .
"Fuck." Lelouch snarled, picking up a pair of pants from the laundry hamper and angrily stuffing his legs through the holes.
He wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to let any one else pay that price for him. He wasn't going to hide. If the assassin wanted him, Lelouch was going to go to him. And when he found him, this assassin was going to wish he'd never heard the name vi Britannia.
"Let's go." He growled as he headed for the door.
"Your highness?" Grant questioned.
"Let's go." He repeated harshly. "Out of the way." He pushed past the guard standing at the door, who was staring at him as though he'd just sprouted a second head.
"Are you out of your mind? There's a man out there who wants to kill you and you want to go wander the halls?" Seckel demanded furiously before remembering who he was talking to. His eyes widened in sudden shock as he stammered out an apology, "I – I mean, I'm sorry, your highness."
"If this assassin wants me so badly, he can have me. Providing he can kill me before we return him the favor. But I'm not going to sit back and let any more of you die for me. Understood?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at them as he pulled open the door.
"Yes, sir." All three of them replied in unison.
Lelouch turned right down the hallway, headed in the direction he thought the gunshot had originated from, but he had barely reached the end of the hall when three radio's crackled to life.
"We've managed to take the target alive. I repeat, we'd subdued the target and taken him alive. Team Four, maintain the perimeter. Teams Two and Five, sweep every room for accomplices or bombs. Team Three, stay with the prince until the building has been cleared."
"Where are they?" Lelouch demanded even before his companions were able to sigh in relief.
"Uh . . ." Seckel muttered as he reached for his radio. "This is Team Three. The prince is en route and wants to know where you're at, Team One."
"Take the prince back to his quarters and keep him secure, Team Three." The voice on the other end of the radio ordered harshly. He knew that voice. It was Ambrose.
Without saying a word, Lelouch held out his hand for the radio, his eyes narrowed in anger. He wasn't an inanimate object that could be shuffled around from location to location without consultation. He was a person. More so, he was a prince of the Empire. Seckel quickly unclipped his radio from his uniform and held it out for him to take.
"This is Lelouch vi Britannia," He announced into the radio with deliberate emphasis. "What is your position, Sergeant?" He demanded, leaving little to no room for argument.
"We're in the servants quarters, your highness. We caught him skulking around by the stairs." Ambrose answered quickly.
"Take him to the entrance hall. I'll be there shortly." He ordered before tossing the radio back to Seckel and hurrying down the stairs.
When he arrived with his three security team members dogging his heels, Ambrose and six other men were already there. One of them, at the center of the mass, had his hands bound behind his back and was bleeding from a wound in his arm and another in his thigh, the blood hardly visible over the matte black clothing he was wearing. He looked like he could barely stand of his own accord, favoring his weight on his unwounded leg while his lips pressed into a thin line to suppress the pain.
Lelouch's eyes narrowed menacingly as he approached. The assassin watched him with dull disinterest, but his eyes were still tracking all of Lelouch's movements nonetheless.
"Who sent you?" Lelouch demanded coldly, stopping six feet away from the dangerous – yet beaten – man.
As expected, he didn't receive a reply. Instead, the man continued to watch him, as though he were nothing more interesting than an inanimate object on display.
"Lelouch!" A voice called behind him, accompanied by hurried footsteps. "Are you alright?"
Two things happened at that moment. One, Edith rushed into the room looking pale and frantic with worry and, two, a flicker of recognition entered the assassin's eyes and the man roughly jerked his right hand free of the handcuff, heedless of the bloody flesh the metal cuffs tore from him or the bone he had to break or dislocate in order to get free.
In that second, realization hit Lelouch like a ton of bricks.
He wasn't the target.
Edith was.
Even as he watched, the assassin used his intact hand to pull a small, concealed switchblade from the fold of his turtleneck, ducking under the restraining grasps of his security team as they scrambled to draw their weapons and regain control of the situation. The world seemed to slow. His people's reaction times seemed almost comically sluggish while the assassin began his advance, blade wielded with expert care.
And Lelouch was moving, a knee-jerk reaction that, even as he did it, made no sense to him. He should have moved away from the blade. He should have fled. That was the normal human reaction, to flee from danger. Instead, he found himself throwing himself between the assassin and Edith, his hand closed firmly over his assistant's forearm to keep her behind him.
The blade inched closer every second as a look of surprise crossed the assassin's face. At the very last second, the man was able to slow his momentum and cease his charge, the tip of the little knife pressed uncomfortably against his sternum as he glared at the man.
Then, with a snap, time returned to it's normal flow and a handful of men had tackled the assassin, while another handful pulled himself and Edith away from the potential danger-zone. With the advent of real time again, his mind began racing.
Who would send an assassin after Edith? Who had both the means and motive to want her eliminated? It couldn't be a reporter she had snubbed on his behalf. Assassins cost a lot of money to hire, especially ones as good – fanatical – as this one was. If the assassin had been after him, the number of potential employers was incomparably large. But, as Edith was the target, he could only think of two men both able to afford the assassin's services and with the need to do so. After all, when it came to assassins, it didn't matter how important the target was. What was important was the secret you were trying to keep.
The first was Lord Gottwald. The Margrave had witnessed Edith eavesdropping on their potentially scandalous conversation. The man could think he was doing his prince a favor by eliminating a witness to hints at treason. However, that seemed unlikely as he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man since the night he'd visited. Lelouch assumed the man had returned to Area Eleven and had gotten on with his life.
So that left . . .
"Schneizel." He said firmly and didn't miss the slight – but unmistakable – widening of the assassin's eyes. That momentary flutter of panic was all the proof he needed. "Schneizel." He snarled again as his anger grew by leaps and bounds.
Edith had witnessed his treasonous temper tantrum the day he'd learned about his upcoming wedding, and Schneizel had seen her there. No doubt, Schneizel thought he was protecting Lelouch. He was, after all, - no matter what Schneizel said about equality and partnership – a very important tool in his brother's arsenal.
"Ambrose." He snapped. "Take this man outside and execute him. Then alert the police to this incident and have them take the body. Someone get Samson out of bed and get the car ready. Seckel, Grant, Thomas, go with Edith and protect her. Get dressed. You're coming with me." He ordered, turning finally to his assistant who looked like she was on the verge of collapsing.
"What?" She asked numbly, staring at him in shock.
"You're coming with me. Get dressed."
He then turned and walked back to his room to change into fresh clothes that hadn't been pulled from his dirty laundry bin. He didn't even flinch when a single, loud gunshot echoed through his window.
"Are you completely mad?" Abigail hissed at him as he left his room. She'd been waiting outside his door with Bruce lurking in her shadow. "You risked your life for a servant? Do you have a death wish or something? You should have let her die. God, I was so worried about you. How can you be so careless with your own life?"
It seemed she'd been watching from the second floor landing the whole time.
He frowned at her. Did he have a death wish? No, he decided. No he didn't. But all the same, he wasn't about to just let Edith be killed in front of his eyes. Not when he could do something about it.
"It is my duty, as the lord of this estate, to take care of everyone within. I have a responsibility to everyone who works for me to keep them safe from harm. So no, I don't have a death wish, but I do have an obligation to the people here." He explained with deadly calm before turning on his heel and leaving her speechless in the hall.
When he returned to the foyer, he was just in time to see a sleepy-eyed Samson heading out the door towards the garage and one of the maids mopping up the small drops of blood the bleeding assassin had left on the white marble floor. He refused to look at them, refused to remember how his mother's blood and how Nunnally's blood had once looked exactly the same on this very same floor.
Edith emerged a few minutes later, dressed in a business suit with her hair pulled back in it's customary no-nonsense bun. She was pale, she looked like she was shaking and she seemed reluctant to enter the room. Flanking her in formation with their hands on their weapons, were the three members of his security team he'd sent with her.
Without saying a word, he motioned for them to follow and headed for the car – a limo this time. Edith climbed in after him, mechanically going through the motions of fastening her seat belt. The three guards, however, hesitated.
"Get in." He ordered tonelessly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Until he had dealt with the source of the problem, Edith wasn't going anywhere without an armed escort.
The source of the problem.
Schneizel.
Gritting his teeth, Lelouch inwardly seethed. What right did his brother think he had to interfere like this? Sending an assassin into his house crossed and very big, very important line. And there would be hell to pay for it.
" . . . thank you." Edith said softly. Her voice trembled a little and it was clear that she was still in shock. If the car hadn't been so deathly quiet he doubted he would have heard her. "Though you really shouldn't have put yourself in danger on my account."
"It's the duty of those with power to protect those without. It's my job to keep my people safe." He answered distractedly before glancing at his guards. "I'm sorry about Caputo. This situation is my fault. I said some things I ought not to have in front of Edith."
The apology was followed by a long silence as each of the passengers of the car nodded in understanding. It was his fault that man had died. He should have thought things through. He should have had a better rein on his temper. Raging in impotent helplessness had done nothing to resolve his problems. Instead, it had created new ones and now a man was dead because of that mistake. It was a harrowing waking up call. He wasn't just responsible for the safety of himself and Nunnally any more. There were other people who looked to him for their protection and he had already failed once.
Never again, he swore to himself. He would never again let his temper put someone else's life in jeopardy. It was unacceptable. From this moment onward, even if he wanted to lash out and rage furiously, he would take the time to take stock of his surroundings and consider all of the possibilities first.
The gate was closed and heavily guarded at Schneizel's estate, as was to be expected in the middle of the night. The security officer had refused to grant them entry until Lelouch had had to actually emerge from the vehicle and order it in the name of his family. Even then, they'd called ahead to the house to ask for confirmation.
For whatever reason, Schneizel actually allowed it. Which confused Lelouch, unless his brother thought he'd showed up there in the middle of the night because he was too afraid of staying in his own house after the attack.
Schneizel met him in the foyer as he arrived, dressed in an expensive navy blue silk dressing robe and slippers, and the slightly surprised glance at just who was accompanying him was not lost on Lelouch. Without waiting for pleasantries and greetings, he raised his hand and pointed at Schneizel accusingly.
"You sent an assassin after Edith!" He snarled.
Schneizel's eyes slowly traveled from Lelouch to examine the maid. "And it seems he failed." He observed calmly.
Lelouch let his hand drop to his side as his fingers curled into a tight fist. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remember the vow he'd made to himself only minutes before. He would not create another situation that Schneizel would think had to be remedied. He would gain control of himself – of his anger – and then take control of the situation.
He closed his eyes and took a long, calming breath into his lungs. He held it there for a few second before letting it slowly out of his nose. When he opened his eyes again, a deadly, dangerous calm had settled over him.
"So you don't deny it?" He asked tonelessly, hands limp at his sides.
"I will do what I need to to protect you. Even from harmful gossip." Schneizel answered unapologetically.
Lelouch's eyes tightened and he pinned his brother in his gaze. "If you ever send assailants after my people again – for whatever reason – I will make you rue the day we met, Schneizel. Brother or not." He said perfectly calmly yet with every word saturated with anger and malice. This wasn't impotent raging. This wasn't an angry teen helplessly lashing out at the world. This was a young man making a threat that he fully intended to carry out unless his conditions were met. "You do not want me as your enemy, Schneizel."
There was a long moment of silence while Schneizel examined Lelouch and, he thought bitterly, considered his options. "I understand," Schneizel said at length before turning to Edith. "I apologize, my dear lady. I was unaware of how important you are to my brother. It wont happen again. I promise."
Lelouch let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding slowly. If Schneizel had been a completely remorseless monster, he was sure his life would already have been forfeit. The presence of Schneizel's own assistant lurking by the door was certainly not lost on Lelouch and he'd met the man enough times to know that Kanon almost always carried a weapon. However, Lelouch was useful to Schneizel. Schneizel needed him and killing him here would have been pointless.
He didn't trust his brother's 'promise', but he did trust in the fact that he'd backed Schneizel into a corner. Any action taken against his employees would result in an immediate termination of their agreement. Furthermore, it would ensure Lelouch moved against him and Schneizel knew he had all the ammunition he needed to do so.
"Good." He grumbled before turning around on his heel stalking towards the door. "Good night, Schneizel."
"Good night, Lelouch." His brother said casually, voice revealing not even a hint of anxiety. But it wasn't in Schneizel's nature to show tension to anyone.
An: Wow, so I hope you liked it. Longest chapter yet. And you guys are awesome, we're at over 200 reviews now!
I'm sorry that a couple of you didn't like the last chapter, but this story is my brainchild and I'm allowed to do whatever I like to it. :D I got my first flame since the very first story I ever wrote for the last chapter. It was kind of interesting, in a sad way. For future reference, if you have to clarify at the beginning of your review whether or not it's a flame, it's probably a flame. Also, for even more future reference, if you feel the need to flame me, please just don't. I don't know about all of you, but as for me, one of the ways I pick a good story out of the bunch that sound interesting to read is by how many reviews that particular story has accumulated. It's okay if you don't like my story, that is your prerogative, after all. But if that's the case, just cease reading instead of trying to belittle the author.
All that aside, I would like to inform you that there was a minor revision to chapter 9 that I just made. One of you kindly pointed out that in the world of Code Geass, the state of Washington wouldn't exist as it was named after a defeated enemy of the Britannian Empire. I actually realized that when I was writing it but forgot to change it when I was editing. So I went ahead and changed it to the Duke of Oregon (don't ask me why but I want her to be from the west coast. As of right now it has absolutely no bearing on the plot, however). So I changed that and from now on Abigail is the daughter of the Duke of Oregon. Exciting.
Thanks so much for reading, I really appreciate it.
Allora