Chapter 11: Direction

"The terrorists are becoming a problem. We need to purge the Area of them before this Zero gets the chance to rally them up."

"Hm," He decided not to point out that his brother was already stating the obvious, knowing it was merely a case of thinking out-loud, and moved his knight forward to capture a white pawn. "I doubt the other factions will take well to him. He seems too… flamboyant for their tastes, too showy."

Clovis frowned, seeing that he now had to sacrifice his queen for the safety of his king. "Perhaps we'd be able to pit him and the JLF against each other."

"No, that wouldn't work. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all." And, as anticipated, Lelouch took his queen.

"Yes, that's true, I suppose."

This was their third game of the day, and so far it appeared that it would be ending in very much the same way the other two had, with Lelouch winning almost effortlessly. Clovis didn't mind anymore. In fact, he was the one who suggested they play that morning, even disregarding breakfast and settling for only a cup of tea in his office. Lelouch had agreed, of course. Chess took precedent over most things in life when it came to the Eleventh Prince, and this certainly wouldn't be the first time he chose chess over a meal.

Clovis remembered fondly how Lady Marianne always had to practically strap her son to the chair so that he'd finish his dinner before he ran off in search of Schneizel and yet another rematch.

"Also, we don't yet know the extent of his power," Lelouch said. "All we do know is that he seems to be entrenched in our own military forces."

"Unbelievable. That a faction of our own forces would turn against us…"

"Radicals, half-breeds, who knows?" Lelouch shrugged. "You hardly helped things with that Shinjuku massacre, Clovis. And for a girl…" He ignored the glare that was sent in his way, focusing only on the board. "When Nelia hears about this, she won't be happy. She's been telling you to stop your womanizing ways for years. I wouldn't be surprise if she arranges a marriage for you."

"I'll send her a teddy for her collection," Clovis said, dismissing the matter with a rather feminine flick of his wrist. "Back to the matters at hand: I believe a purge is now necessary."

"Of what? The army or the terrorists?"

"Both."

He grinned at Lelouch's pause, calmly meeting his gaze as it rose to him from under a dark fringe. "Both?"

Clovis nodded.

"Do you intend on asking for help from Cornelia? Or perhaps Oscar, or Emile?"

"Now why would I do that, when I have my brilliant little Lelou here?"

"Oh, so now I'm your brilliant little Lelou, am I?" Clovis pretended innocence, even when the sarcasm was practically dripping from Lelouch's words. His smile rapidly fell with the falling of his white king. "Checkmate, by the way."

He pouted, gazing down at the board and wondering where he'd gone wrong. Playing with Lelouch was less about winning and more about realizing his mistakes nowadays; Clovis hadn't been close to winning since Lelouch was eleven years old. Only twice had he forced him into a draw.

Knowing what he was doing, Lelouch supplied his own opinion, "You were playing by the book, too traditionally, and that made it easy to anticipate your moves."

"I see," Clovis heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I don't even know why I bother anymore."

"Well, if you keep on playing like this, I may not bother either. You're nothing if not creative, big brother." With a faint curl of his upper lip in disgust, Lelouch added, "Keep playing like this and you'll turn into Odysseus."

"That bad?" he chuckled.

The dark-haired prince nodded and set to work organizing the pieces again. Clovis noticed he wasn't resetting the game; rather, he appeared to be constructing a scene. The white pieces were surrounded by the black, with the occasional black pawn infiltrating its ranks. The white pieces still had some space to move, however, as well as one or two openings.

The two kings remained untouched on the table. Clovis picked up the black king, fingering it with obvious distaste. It reminded him of Zero.

At the time, it seemed far too strange that the masked terrorist had chosen his mask in the shape of a black king when Lelouch's code-name in the underground gambling arenas also happened to be the Black King.

Given his little brother's absence at the time, as well as the nagging suspicion he had since Shinjuku, it was only natural that he'd come to the conclusion Lelouch was, in fact, Zero and taunting him. And for the first time in his life, Clovis was very, very glad to be wrong.

As Lelouch suggested that night, he had checked the surveillance and found that the Sub-Viceroy had indeed been in his office the entire time, playing chess with himself and watching the events unfold on television. Beyond that, the doctors assured him that Lelouch's arm still had some time before it healed completely, while Zero obviously had use of both arms.

Also, he had no reason for such theatrics. If Lelouch really did have knowledge of C.C., he could easily report him to their father and be rid of Clovis without the hassle of terrorists and all that.

But above that all, Zero's mask was an abomination; Clovis would be appalled if his own flesh and blood was ever to wear something so ugly.

He leaned forward when Lelouch began to speak, setting his chin on his knuckles, and was very glad his little brother had better fashion-sense than this Zero fellow.

"We are White," his younger brother pointed out, and it was entirely unnecessary, but Clovis nodded all the same. "Currently, the terrorists have us in a pinch. Since the Zero incident, they've been popping up everywhere. However, they don't seem to be working together, it's more like… showing off."

"They're flexing their muscles," he commented, a slight frown pulling at his lips. "For Zero."

"Because of Zero, maybe, but not necessarily for him." Lelouch leaned forward and snatched the black king from Clovis' hand. Sitting back, he gazed at it intently while twirling it between his slender fingers, apparently at a loss of where to place it. "No matter how annoying it may be, the fact he apparently has allies with the Britannian army hasn't made him all that popular with the Elevens' resistance forces, which is undoubtedly a good thing. We should take advantage of that while it lasts."

"And we mustn't forget Zero's little friends on the inside," Clovis said, gesturing at the black pawns amidst the sea of white.

"Yes, I wonder if we could make use of the families of those disgraced knights…"

Of course they could. When nobility fell from grace, they fell hard, and having a family member on he Royal Guard only to turn traitor for Zero was a stain that nothing short of pure heroism could remove.

Clovis gave a lazy nod, "I'll deal with that."

"And Honorary Britannians,"

"What about them?"

"We need to integrate them better into the army."

"Integrate them better?" Clovis repeated, sounding incredulous. Lelouch merely nodded. "We need to get them out of it! It's most likely their fault- I wouldn't be surprised if Zero came out of their ranks, in fact!"

Later on, the Viceroy would reflect on Lelouch's unfaltering calm, the level head he showed at the time that had rarely surfaced before, outside of chess. It was strange and uncharacteristic of him, their spoiled little black prince. In fact, a lot of what Lelouch did nowadays contradicted entirely with the person Clovis had known these past years, and yet, some of his glass figurines still suffered whenever said person decided to rear his ugly head.

At this point, he wasn't sure which version of his little brother he preferred: the patient, reserved one or the childish one with the tendency to throw things around. Lelouch's aim had improved considerably since his stint in the military, and Clovis did not enjoy the idea of having a concussion, but at the same time he rather feared what a mature version of Lelouch vi Britannia might be capable of.

"Think about it, Clovis: how could an Honorary Britannian ever get in good graces with the Royal Guard? In the end, they're just Numbers, after all." Lelouch paused to let his words sink in and allow his older brother to see the logic. "But Zero would be an idiot not to use them. We need to beat him to the punch."

"Beat him to the…? Lelouch, you've been wandering around that commoner school far too much," he admonished. Sighing, the Eleventh Prince pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"This is hardly the time to comment on my choice of language."

"Oh, very well," Clovis settled back in his chair, tapping the heel of his boot impatiently on the floor. "What makes you think the Numbers will respond to us better than Zero? They'd jump at the chance to get their precious little clod of dirt freed, I'd imagine."

"But they've evidently accepted their roles of living under the Empire's dominion, if they've enrolled in the army," Lelouch pointed out. "I wouldn't be surprised if one or two of them are even hoping to actually make a difference."

At that, the Viceroy couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Seeing his younger brother's quirked brow, however, made Clovis purse his lips together in an attempt to control it.

"I apologise," he said, curling gloved fingers over his mouth. It did nothing to hide his mocking smile, but at least gave the pretence he actually cared. "I thought you were joking."

"I assure you, I'm being perfectly serious. In fact," Lelouch said, rising from his seat. "I'm about to go and recruit our first Number friend. Warrant Officer Kururugi should prove to be a valuable asset."

"Kururugi…"

Clovis rolled it around his tongue a few more times, searching through the recesses of his mind for a corresponding face or event to that name. He was sure it wasn't foreign to him. Past the portraits, past his projects, past all the trivialities of his lavish life, he searched, until at last he came upon a half-forgotten memory from long ago, and his expression turned from its usual smugness to wondering.

"Lelouch!" he said suddenly. Lelouch stopped in his tracks, gloved hand just hovering over the doorknob, and turned to look at him quizzically, "Yes, big brother?"

"That Kururugi boy, he wouldn't happen to be the son of Genbu Kururugi, would he?"

Instantly, a grin formed on the young prince's face, and that was all the answer Clovis needed.

"So, it is him. Have you told her yet?"

Lelouch shrugged nonchalantly and then adjusted his cape, which was hanging over only one of his shoulders, as was the fashion. "Why should I? That was a long time ago."

"Not long enough for him to have forgotten, though. Isn't that what you're counting on?" Clovis asked with a knowing grin. Lelouch had the decency to look abashed, lowering his head even as he smiled slightly, "You got me."

"How very devious of you, Lelou."

Lelouch only laughed.

The laughter stopped the moment he closed that door, the smile dropping quickly as well to be replaced by a blasé expression that betrayed nothing of the Sub-Viceroy's thoughts.

He beckoned Jeremiah, which was entirely unnecessary as the teal-haired man fell into step behind him instantly whether or not he told him to, but Lelouch chose to acknowledge his presence and thus signifying that he was willing to talk to him again.

After that Talk of theirs, Lelouch had expected that Jeremiah would keep a very close eye on him- well, closer than normal, anyway. He had even expected that Jeremiah would begin to snoop around his room and personal effects, and to that end Lelouch had been careful to relocate C.C. as well as his Zero costume and any other possibly incriminating evidence of his double-life.

The surprise came when the prince caught Jeremiah at it red-handed.

It was the sloppiness, more than anything else, that enraged Lelouch.

As his knight and personal guard, you'd think he'd manage to be a little more discreet

After a temper tantrum that would shake even the gods and shattered every single piece of china in his personal wing, Lelouch stormed off. For four days after that he didn't even acknowledge the man's presence, let alone talk to him.

Four days was a long enough time to let him squirm, the prince thought.

"I'm going to be leaving the settlement for a while," he stated, sparing a glance over his shoulder. Jeremiah was walking stiffly behind him, and a frown was evident on his face. "Surprise inspections of some of the military bases. You will not be accompanying me."

"Your highness, with all due respect-"

"I won't hear it, Margrave Gottwald. It's only three days, and I don't want to draw unnecessary attention to myself. Like I said, surprise inspections."

For a while, Jeremiah didn't reply. He was probably considering just how much leeway he had, just how far he could argue, given the current circumstances. In a way, Lelouch was thankful for Gottwald's blunder. It gave him the perfect excuse to alienate him whilst he made his little 'trip' to the ghettos and Jeremiah wouldn't have the guts to tail him regardless.

"Will you at least take one of the men with you?" he said at last. They stopped in front of the elevator. Jeremiah leaned forward, pressing the button as Lelouch gave a stiff nod and replied, "Kewell."

Because Soresi, while one of his best men, was not someone he had to worry about Geassing. Lelouch was reserving Jeremiah's Geass for now, as he had no doubt he'd need it when the man's zeal and loyalty compelled him to go after Zero.

"Very well, Your Highness."

With a pleasant ding, the elevator doors opened and Lelouch stepped inside, ignoring the bows he received from the two other occupants.

"Ground floor, Jeremiah," he ordered, since it was beneath him to press the button himself. He was, after all, a Prince. "We're going to visit the Lancelot."

The Sutherland quickly raised its tonfa, just barely in time to block the Lancelot's assault, only for the white-and-gold knightmare to grip the tonfa in its metallic fingers. With a loud groan and a shower of sparks, it came away in the Lancelot's hand. Jeremiah gritted his teeth, just barely stopping himself from cursing, and swerved his knightmare around, away from the monster he was fighting. His landspinners screeched with the effort.

This was his punishment, he thought, for daring to look where he had no right to. Prince Lelouch had learned well from his elder sister, and if there was one thing Princess Cornelia li Britannia emphasized it was discipline. Discipline and respect and protocol were above all else, even family. Still, he did not regret his actions, but accepted his punishment, his humiliation, with the knowledge he wouldn't hesitate to commit the crime of digging around his prince's personal life again if he must.

As testament to that, three green hairs he'd found in Prince Lelouch's personal quarters resided in his breast pocket, kept inside a neatly folded napkin until he could investigate further.

Jeremiah brought the Sutherland's arm to strike at the Lancelot, which only, for lack of a better word, pirouetted out of the way before bringing down its maser vibration sword and cleaving half of the Sutherland's left arm right off. It fell to the floor with an unceremonious clank.

The barrage of bullets Jeremiah released was reflected, but did its job of distracting Kururugi long enough for Jeremiah to ensnare the Lancelot's legs with his slash harkens.

"You may be piloting a seventh generation knightmare, but machinery alone cannot compare to experience!"

He sped toward the Lancelot, the cut-off part of his arm held in his other. Jeremiah knew full-well that binding only its legs did little to subdue that monstrosity of a machine.

"But," he muttered to himself, "It will at least put an end to this disgrace."

His makeshift weapon collided with the Lancelot's chest. Jeremiah found only a brief satisfaction in the resulting shower of sparks as Kururugi, completely unfazed, pulled the Sutherland's arms from their sockets.

"Mm, apparently machinery does just fine against experience- wouldn't you say so, your Highness?"

Jeremiah closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, and tried very hard to ignore the annoyingly jovial voice of Professor Lloyd Asplund. His prince's low laughter came to him over the radio.

"Would you like some more tea, Miss Cera?"

The green-haired witch looked up from the paper she was folding and gave the maid a blank look. "No, thank you. I would, however, like some more pizza."

The maid bowed, and C.C. bet she was hiding kunai up her sleeves or under her apron. Nonetheless, the smile she gave was genuine, as was the warmth behind it. C.C. decided she liked this woman; her mini-pizzas were phenomenal.

"You really like these pizzas, huh, Miss Cera?"

"Yes, Nunally, I do," she replied, holding up one of the few mini-pizzas left on the plate. C.C. looked at it, then looked at the young girl in the wheelchair and, in a rare show of generosity, handed the pizza to her. "They taste very good, wouldn't you agree?"

"Brother and Big Sister Cornelia say they're unhealthy," Nunally said, sniffing delicately at the pastry in her hand. "They don't like it when I eat things that aren't healthy."

"They aren't here, now are they?"

"No, they're not," she conceded. C.C. gave a rare smile at Nunally's devious giggles, choosing to ignore the glares shot her way from the dark-skinned woman standing rigidly behind them.

"Prince Lelouch has left very explicit orders pertaining to the Princess' diet," Nu said. "And he did not include-"

"Oh, Lulu won't mind," C.C. stated through a mouthful of cheesy pizza. Swallowing, she said, "He only minds when I get Tabasco sauce on his bed or shirts."

With a shrug, Nunally smiled and lifted the mini-pizza to her mouth under C.C.'s approving gaze.

"That's a good girl," she said, giving the girl a light pat on the head. "And later, you can tell me alllll about your brother and big sister."

"I have school later, Miss Cera"

"School? What kind of hostess leaves her guests to go to school?"

Nodding, Nunally conceded that it wasn't very becoming, and thought that surely her brother would understand. It was her duty to be a proper hostess for her possible future sister-in-law, after all. He should be pleased.

She also thought it strange she'd never been allowed to taste this pizza stuff before- it was good!

"Then there's Lelou--."

"Lelou? That sounds like a girl's name,"

The little girl giggled, hiding her mouth behind a white-gloved hand. "He kind of looks girly sometimes too, but he gets very angry when we say that, and Lelouch can get scary when he's angry."

Ten-year-old Suzaku was unimpressed. Placing his hands on his waist, he announced that he wasn't afraid of no ruffle-wearing, sissy-named prince. Instead of the giggles he was after, the girl sobered up, now with only a faint, almost sad smile on her lips. Concerned, he stepped closer, watching intently as she played with the skirts of her dress.

"Lately, Lelou has been scaring us a lot, even Big Sister."

Suzaku's eyes widened just a fraction, trying not to imagine what kind of demon-boy the Eleventh Prince was to scare the Witch of Britannia herself.

"He's turned so, so cold. Cornelia says he might become dangerous too. I didn't believe her at first, but when I went to visit…" Euphie's voice lowered to almost a whisper that Suzaku had to strain to hear. "He reminded me of Father."

With his thin, lanky frame and almost girlish features, it was understandably hard to imagine Prince Lelouch vi Britannia as anything like Emperor Charles. However, looking at that smile and the rapid movement of sharp violet eyes, Suzaku couldn't help but feel uneasy.

The prince was being very casual with him, almost friendly even, for reasons he couldn't fathom.

They were chatting over tea, watching Lloyd and Margrave Jeremiah bicker over something or the other, but no matter how many times Prince Lelouch jokingly told him to loosen up, Suzaku couldn't do it. This whole conversation felt contrived.

It wasn't until the subject came around to his life and the Prince enquired about his reasons for joining the army that Suzaku felt easier, if only slightly, feeling that they had finally come to the heart of the matter.

So that's what it is. He's trying to place my loyalty, evaluate me.

In the background, he could hear Margrave Jeremiah accusing Lloyd of building an escape chute somewhere, with Lloyd sheepishly denying any recollection of it. There seemed to be some sort of bad history between them.

"I want to serve the people," the Honorary Britannian answered.

"Which?"

Suzaku blinked. "Which?" he repeated, confused.

"Which people?" Prince Lelouch elaborated. And though his eyes were on the unsightly duo nearby, Suzaku was sure he had the Sub-Viceroy's wholehearted attention. "The Britannians, or your own, the Japanese?"

His use of the word 'Japanese' didn't escape Suzaku's notice. With a burst of newfound courage, he managed to declare that, "I don't believe there's a difference."

Prince Lelouch seemed to contemplate that answer. Inwardly, the Honorary Britannian cringed, knowing that he'd gone too far, and resisted the urge to repeatedly bang his head against the wall. If any of the Britannian soldiers heard him, he'd get a bullet between the eyes instantly for daring to equal them, the conquerors, to the subjugated Numbers.

And he'd gone and said it right in a Prince's face.

Stupidstupidstupid!

He watched the dark-haired royal's expression apprehensively, his insides clenching. After a few seconds, a small, barely perceptible smile drew itself on his face. Suzaku thought it looked rather wry. "Your honesty is refreshing, Kururugi. Refreshing, but dangerous."

The Warrant Officer took a deep breath, understanding the veiled warning. Or was it a reprimand? He closed his eyes, head bowing slightly, and steeled himself for whatever punishment Prince Lelouch saw fit.

It would remind him to keep his mouth shut from now on, at least.

He failed to see the smirk that curled on the Prince's lips. "Nonetheless, I can see why Euphie spoke so highly of you."

Suzaku's head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise. "Eu-Euphie?"

"She sends her regards, by the way."

Once they were alone in Lelouch's personal transport (or as alone as a prince could be, at least. Other occupants included the chauffeur, dutifully looking ahead and ignoring any and all conversation, another member of his personal guard by the name of Montague and his young secretary, Eleni) Jeremiah began to slowly, carefully, but surely hound him about several things.

The first being his up-coming trip, which the Margrave cited as an unnecessary danger especially since he hadn't been informed of it previously. He hadn't the time to set up the customary security measures, and if the Prince was going to be visiting various military bases there was a very good chance one of Zero's men could be lurking.

Lelouch waved the matter away, and his confidence and flippant dismissal seemed to irk Jeremiah. The Sub-Viceroy pushed away the temptation of admitting that the reason he didn't fear Zero was that he himself was Zero, although he would love to see the expression on his usually stoic guard's face at the revelation.

There was no need to rush, anyway. Jeremiah would come to know, in due time. This wasn't it.

The next subject brought up were the Prince's worrying habits, of gambling and abrupt disappearance (Lelouch was thankful he didn't mention the imaginary mistress this time, although Jeremiah was obviously referring to her) and now of ordering pizza at the strangest hours.

"It's simply not healthy, your Highness!" he said. "And all those delivery boys could possibly be enemy agents. Even if they don't come near your person, they can still get a good view of the villa and plan their attacks, or place bombs, or simply poison the food itself!"

Paranoia, Lelouch had always thought, could be useful in healthy doses. Jeremiah had crossed 'healthy' long ago, and now teetering dangerously toward toxic.

"Very well. You can taste each pizza before it reaches me, how's that?"

Jeremiah's only answer was a dark frown until he began on his next and hopefully final subject: Warrant Officer Kururugi. He apparently thought his Prince had been far too candid with the Honorary Britannian, though Lelouch suspected this belief was only because of his supposed mistress being a half-breed.

It wasn't good for his image, he said. A Britannian Prince must uphold the Empire's beliefs.

"Even if he doesn't believe in them himself," he added, looking at Lelouch pointedly.

"There are many who would see that as compassion," the Prince remarked.

"Which is not a very good trait to have in Britannia."

Well, he certainly had him there.

Lelouch scoffed, reclining in the rich leather seat of his transport. He propped his chin on his knuckles, staring out of the darkened windows at the passing scenery with unseeing eyes.

Instead, he saw the gardens of Capricorn Villa on a sweet summer day, and he saw two little girls running around, laughing happily. A third girl watched over them with an uncharacteristically kind smile, and he thought he spotted her dexterous fingers, so used to manning knightmares, tying stalks together to make a flower wreath.

"You know, it's funny," Lelouch said at last, and his voice sounded so far away that Jeremiah wondered if he was even talking to him. Nonetheless, he asked, "What is?"

The Prince raised his head, dark strands of hair falling to cover his eyes as he gave Jeremiah an amused look.

"Once upon a time," he began. "Kururugi might have been my brother-in-law,"

He wordlessly held her, stroking her pink hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture as she sobbed into his chest. Recent events had hardened Lelouch further than any of his siblings might have thought possible, but it also, ironically, taught him some level of compassion.

For Nunally's sake, who had to struggle alone in the darkness with only her older brother to guide her. And now for Euphie's sake, who had to cope with the recent loss of a friend at the hands of her own siblings.

Kururugi Suzaku, he thought with a barely suppressed growl. Wherever you are, you had damn well better appreciate these tears…

If he was even still alive, that was.

The contemptible image of that young green-eyed boy came to his mind, memorized after all the time he'd spent glaring at the photos his sister sent .He had a head of unruly brown hair and cheeky grin that reminded him all too much of his older brother, Fourth Prince Cassius, when he'd push Lelouch into his mother's prized rose bushes, sneering down at the commoner's spawn.

In other words, it spelled trouble. He didn't like the thought of that… that ruffian taking his Euphie.

Yes, that's right. His Euphie.

No matter that he was the son of the Prime Minister. No matter that he was, technically, nobility. No matter that Britannia had needed a tie to the Japanese (or appeared to have needed one, anyway. The recent storming of Japanese shores showed a very different story.)

In the end, he was just glad it wasn't Nunally who'd gotten sold- although it would have been, if not for the 'incident'. It made him frown to see how she'd been thrown aside, but the fact she was seen unfit to be married off was the only silver-lining. Even when there was talk of selling him off instead to some Japanese noble girl, or using him as a political hostage, he was glad it wasn't Nunally.

But he wasn't sent anywhere or married off to anyone thanks to Cornelia li Britannia.

It was only after Euphie came to him one day, smiling through her tears as she told him about the Emperor's decision, that he knew what Cornelia had done for him and Nunally- and how she had paid for daring to oppose their Father.

Euphemia accepted the marriage arrangement with grace that only a princess could manage, and began her preparations. She learned about Japan's history and customs, as well as simpler things such as how to wear a kimono properly, or how to hold chopsticks.

For her sake, he and Cornelia would join in, even having the royal cooks prepare Japanese meals for them. And all the while Cornelia would growl that the Kururugi boy had better be learning how to behave like a proper Britannian gentleman or she'd personally shove the damn chopsticks into his eyes and-

Lelouch took care to cover Nunally's ears at that point.

Waving a picture of him around, Euphie would giggle that at least her future-husband was cute.

"But not nearly as cute as you, Lelouch,"

He wondered if he imagined the melancholy note in her voice as she said those words.

Together, he and Euphemia learned Japanese, because she said she wanted him to visit all the time, and perhaps come to befriend her fiancé.

"Also," she admitted, a light blush dusting her cheeks. "I want to spend as much time with you as I can. You know, before I… Before I have to go."

She spent the entire summer of 2010 in the very heart of Japan, a guest of her future-husband's family.

"Shhh," he cooed, and he didn't mind that she was soaking his shirt.

"B-but, Suzaku," she sniffled between sobs. "Why would they do that? Suzaku didn't do anything wrong! None of them did, so why?"

Apparently, she'd made a friend of the boy. The letters he received while she was away proved that much. He was a little rough around the edges at first, she said, but warmed up to her soon enough. Of course, that wasn't much of a surprise- who didn't warm up to Euphie, after all?

Two days after her return marked the beginning of the Britannian invasion of Japan.

"Why?"

He held her tighter, his expression soft but pained. Because this is Britannia, he wanted to say, but he didn't, instead assuring her that Kururugi would be alright.

It was the first time he'd lied to her knowingly, as he had no doubt that if Suzaku survived this war he would be far from alright.

And to think, he'd been jealous of the Japanese boy.

Still, Lelouch wasn't petty. He was a gentleman, a man of noble status and upbringing. He would not gloat over his rival's fall, but send a prayer to whatever deity was out there that he'd survive this war, if only for his ex-fiancée's sake.


Fujiwara Riku clenched his hands together nervously, missing the familiar weight of his trusty submachine gun. Being part of the Yamato Alliance, he rarely went anywhere without it, and he knew all the other members of the Japanese resistance felt more or less the same.

Still, none of them could resist a meeting with Zero, not even the JLF. So when he said no weapons, they were all forced to take the trouble of concealing their arms. The Britannian pistol in the waistband of his trousers as well as his pocket-knife provided Riku with little comfort, but it was enough.

At least if anyone tried anything, he would be able to gut someone and drag them down to hell with him.

"Where's Zero?" someone growled, voicing the question they'd all been dying to ask.

Blood of the Samurai, Riku thought, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Just because they were the largest faction in central Japan they thought they were all that. With their noses stuck a foot in the air, you'd think they had Tohdoh of Miracles with them, but no. In fact, the last time they'd performed a successful raid was a whole month ago.

Still, the guy did pose a valid question. Where was Zero?

After calling them all two days ago and gathering representatives of the most important resistance factions, one would think he'd at least be on time.

A quick glance at his wrist-watch told him the masked vigilante was twenty minutes late.

One minute ticked by, then another. The tension was running high. Nobody liked being here, cooped up in one of the storage rooms in the old subway tunnels. Another five minutes passed; the representative from Rising Sun stood up abruptly, announcing that he was through with this shit.

"Please, take your seat, Kishima,"

Instantly, all eyes were focused on the room's only possible entrance. They heard heels clicking on the hard ground. Slowly, the figure appeared, the dim illumination making him seem all that more intimidating.

"So, you've finally decided to grace us with your presence, have you?" Kishima spat.

"I apologize for the delay," came the mechanized voice, but it was obvious he wasn't apologetic at all. "I'm afraid I was held back unexpectedly. Izumi Toru?"

The man from Blood of the Samurai stiffened at being singled out. "What?"

"Be sure to pick up your subordinates when you leave. Have no fear, they're right outside, but you'll find them to be, ah, incapacitated at the moment."

Izumi's eyes widened then narrowed, his face contorted in rage as he reached into his pocket for what could only be a weapon.

Hearing a click, they realized that Zero had beaten him to it and was currently aiming a pistol at the man's crotch.

"Next time you decide to bring your goons along, at least tell them to be a little discreet," he said. "Like the JLF's men, for instance."

Riku's eyes flickered to the JLF representative, one of the Four Holy Swords, Urabe Kosetsu, and found him looking strangely amused.

"Well, no denying you're good," Urabe admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "But why don't we get down to business?" His expression became solemn as he leaned forward in his seat. Zero remained standing, looking down at each and every one of them, but tucked his weapon away.

"Yes, I also dislike wasting time," he said. And Riku thought, absurdly, that he could detect a slight accent in Zero's Japanese. Nah, he thought, must be the mask. "You want to know why I gathered you here; you, who come from the greatest anti-Britannian movements in Japan."

"That would be great, yeah."

"I've come to discuss the terms of… an alliance."

His three days spent undercover proved to be very, very profitable.

In the morning, he performed his surprise inspections on several military facilities, and spent a great deal of his time enjoying how flustered he was making them all as he hung the threat of dismissal over their heads. He'd actually done it, too, as a threat ceases to be effective once the person figures that you're bluffing.

Then again, even if he didn't need to prove he meant business, General Rosencruz of the Osaka facilities really had it coming to him.

At night, Lelouch vi Britannia would be relieved of his duties, and Zero awoke to begin the construction of his Empire.

Kewell had been Geassed beforehand to ignore his nightly excursions, or anything unusual that concerned his Prince, with the utterance of the word "Pawn". As such, he remained blissfully unaware of Zero as he met with the underground resistance and gathered intel.

The Blood of the Samurai was one of the largest resistance factions in Area 11, boasting large numbers and organization that was second only to the Japanese Liberation Front. However, they were lead by proud and foolish men who still pined for a lost era of Japanese supremacy and refused to see beyond that. They would regain Japan or die trying, but they would do so alone. They would not accept Zero.

For that, they would die at the hands of Lelouch vi Britannia.

The men of the Yamato Alliance were thankfully smarter, in spite of their lack in tacticians and decent leadership.

Actually, that might be the reason. Still, it was good they didn't cling to meaningless pride and recognized the fact they stood a better chance against Britannia with Zero as their ally.

For that, they would live, and maybe even long enough to see Japan liberated.

Next on his mental list was the JLF itself, but that was a whole new level. He understood that these men would never be his subordinates, only his grudging allies, if even that. They were a threat, and would always be so. They must be neutralized. But first-

"Big brother?"

That train of thought instantly took the back-seat as Lelouch was brought to the present by that sweet voice. He smiled at her. "Yes, Nunally?"

I need to pinpoint their centre of operations. If I'd been able to take that Urabe to the side, I could have Geassed him into telling me. Regardless, a little while longer and Zero will have the necessary connections to make that discovery- that is, if Lelouch vi Britannia doesn't first. I could take Tohdoh into custody…

"Brother, Miss Cera-" Nunally hesitated briefly, and Lelouch's smile threatened to fall. It was never a good thing when the witch was mentioned, especially not by his sister.

He hadn't wanted to bring her here, where she could possibly corrupt his darling sister, but he'd been a little short on options at the time. With Jeremiah watching his movements closely and the media hungry for gossip, a hotel or anything like that was out of the question. He could have Geassed some nobleman into allowing C.C. to stay with him, but what was to guarantee the nobleman wouldn't have visitors, or that C.C. would have the common sense to stay hidden in front of said visitors?

"What about her?" he urged, leaning slightly forward. "I hope she wasn't too much trouble."

Hiding C.C. in Ashford, and with Nunally no less, was the only option available to him. It was also the most unexpected; Jeremiah would never think to search there, and if the thought did cross his mind he wouldn't dare act on it. At the same time, Villetta would make sure C.C. stayed hidden for the sake of the Prince's reputation.

It was the perfect plan!

"Oh no, she wasn't any trouble. I like her a lot," Nunally said. A sense of foreboding filled Lelouch suddenly.

Indeed, it was the perfect plan. But he'd forgotten to take Nunally's willingness to befriend just about anyone into account. Should she think of C.C.- no, Cera as a friend, she would no doubt want to see her again, and Lelouch was notoriously weak-willed when it came to his sister.

"Brother, is she… Is Miss Cera your girlfriend?"

Oh god, what had he done?

"Ah, er, no. No, she's not,"

Since when did he, Lelouch vi Britannia, the Black Prince, have trouble with words?

His condition only worsened when he saw that Nunally, rather than nodding in acceptance and dropping the subject, or else looking confused if C.C. had insinuated anything that would bring Nunally to that conclusion, was blushing.

His sister was blushing.

Did he want to know why? Did he dare to ask?

"I … I suppose it's not strange for a Prince… but, Lelouch," She set her cup of juice down on the table and then folded her hands over her lap. Her young face was set in an unusually serious expression. "You should think of making her your girlfriend. Your proper girlfriend, instead of just a mistre-"

"Cera! There you are!" Lelouch practically jumped out of his chair, bolting to the door. "Excuse us for a moment, Nunally. Cera needs to talk to me for a bit."

Before the girl could say anything, he was already gone, his hurried steps becoming farther and farther away.

Nunally frowned, fully aware of the fact her brother had just taken advantage of her blindness and lied to her. She hadn't heard any footsteps or the hiss of the automatic doors, for one. Those aside, as Miss Cera had a tendency to be unusually quiet, even in her footsteps, Nunally hadn't detected that signature pizza-scent that always followed her- she had detected it on Lelouch, however. On his clothing, although he'd obviously tried to mask it with his cologne. Before meeting Cera, she'd always wondered about that, and now she knew.

Miss Cera was her brother's mistress. His reaction proved as much.

Still, she supposed she couldn't blame Lelouch. He never could handle talk of relationships. Maybe she could forgive him, then. Just this once.

"HEY SHIRLEEEEEEY!"

The redhead in question blinked in surprise, almost afraid to look over her shoulder. Beside her, her friends from the swim team scoffed and rolled their eyes.

"Don't look now, but the Milly-minion's back," Sophie said in a sneering undertone. This earned her some snickers from the surrounding girls, a few shaking heads and a small frown from Shirley.

"Sophie, be nice," she reprimanded, "Rivalz can't help it if he likes the Prez."

"But you have to admit, it makes you wonder just how crazy the guy is. I mean, Milly Ashford?"

Shirley opened her mouth, about to protest, when another one of her friends, a brunette by the name of Helen, brought up Milly's tendency to try and cop a feel in the locker rooms. The redhead was promptly silenced, her cheeks flaming.

"SHIRLEEEEEEY!"

When the boy almost barrelled into them, Sophie gave her a knowing look, and Shirley nodded in resignation, sighing.

Point taken. You had to be a special kind of crazy to fall for Milly Ashford.

Nonetheless, she wore a smile when she faced his puffing face and asked, "What is it, Rivalz?"

"Th-The Clu-" Rivalz wheezed. Shirley watched patiently as he took a moment to breathe and gather his words. "The Clubhouse. It's on lock-down again."

"Lock-down? Did Madame Prez say anything about that yesterday?"

The blue-haired boy shook his head. "Nope. I forgot some books there from this morning, but when I go to get them I find the whole place crawling with security."

"But isn't there always a few bodyguards around?" Mia asked.

"Yeah, that Villetta woman gives me the creeps," another commented.

"I mean more than usual," Rivalz clarified. "And these weren't even regular security, either. They're all dressed in black, with these huge swords-" He used his hands to further emphasize his point. Shirley tried not to blush when some of her friends snickered, silently horrified at herself for noticing the double-meaning that Rivalz was clearly unaware of. Oh dear god, she'd been hanging around Milly far, far too much.

"One of them had this cloak over his shoulder and the meanest glare I have ever seen, I swear! … Weirdest hairdo, too."

"Nunally could just be entertaining a guest," Shirley suggested.

"But you have to wonder what kind of guest that is…" Sophie said, sounding thoughtful. She tapped a finger on her chin. "Only knights and royals are allowed to wear swords outside of formal occasions. They're just for show, of course, but they're a pretty major show of wealth. Daddy has this sword he got from his great-great-"

"You think it's a noble, then?" Shirley asked. She wasn't pleased to have to interrupt her like that, but knew that if she didn't Sophie would go on a tangent about her noble lineage for hours.

"Not just any noble," Sophie grinned suddenly, a very predatory grin that Shirley had only seen once, during her debutante ball. "To be able to afford knights as personal security? I'd have to say it's no less than a Margrave. No, make that Marquis."

Mia gasped suddenly, and in a rare moment of intelligence and clarity said, "You don't suppose that's the brother Nunally's always gushing about, do you?"

There was a pause as they considered the possibility, and then-

"OH MY GOD! Really? Did you hear, he graduated from the Imperial Academy in Los Angeles!"

"He's practically best friends with the Rounds."

"Nunna told me he always came out on top in knightmare combat- against Knight of Six Anya Alstreim!"

"WAAAAH!" They all stared as Rivalz fell to his knees, his face raised to the heavens in askance. "WHYYYY?"

"Oh-kay…"

Shirley patted him awkwardly, "I'm sure if he was trying to court Milly we'd have heard something by now."

"Or he'd have been scared off by now," Sophie suggested, merely shrugging at the frown Shirley sent her way. "Now then, who's up for some undercover work?"

"What do you mean?" Shirley asked, helping Rivalz up from the ground.

"Don't you want to know who this mysterious 'Lord Lamperouge' is?" Helen said, using wide arm movements to emphasize just how 'mysterious' he was. They didn't even know his first name; Nunally only referred to him as 'Big Brother'. "His face, even?"

"It might help us figure out who Nunally really is. I, for one, have never heard of the Lamperouge family." Sophie flipped her hair over her shoulder in a display of grace and arrogance that only those with noble blood seemed able to pull off. "I bet it's just an alias."

She looked down at Rivalz, a smirk playing on her lips, "Don't you want to scout out the competition, Cardemonde?"

Their blue-haired classmate had a look of sudden resolve. He nodded solemnly, in a way that almost made Shirley want to laugh if not for the gravity of the situation they were dragging her in. She protested futilely, defending poor Nunna's right for privacy, but her protests fell on deaf ears.

Shirley sighed, resigning herself to her fate. It wouldn't hurt, she supposed, just to get a... a glimpse of him.

A/N: Stupid evil midterms are stupid and evil. That is all.

Actually, no wait! I just noticed something! I'm… almost at 100 reviews!

Champagne, anyone?