Chapter 4: Between Surrender and Hope

Consciousness came painfully, as if his mind was punishing him for becoming aware again. His mouth was coarse and dry, begging for water to slake his dehydration. How long had he been out?

Orpheus's wrists were bound in shackles above his head and his shirt had been stripped off. A hot tingle was being traced all around his body as a finger sensuously worked its path up to his face. Finally, it settled on his eyebrow and began stroking it, coaxing him to open his eyes.

"Wake up, my king," Shamna's seductive voice broke through the fog in his head. "I want to get to know you better."

Orpheus peeked between his eyelids and was greeted by Queen Shamna's ravishing yet infuriatingly smug face smiling lovingly at him. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of such radiance, but he was quick to remember how he had gotten into this situation in the first place.

"Liar," he reprimanded her weakly. "I thought you were more honorable than that. How much did he pay you for this? Billions? How do you not expect him to sell you out when your usefulness has ended?"

Shamna chuckled and tipped his head back so she could study him in greater detail and licked her lips. "Lelouch would be a fool to betray me at the moment, Zevon. He wants absolute control of the world; a few private Britannian suppliers aren't going to be enough for him to accomplish that goal."

"And what about after he accomplishes that?" Orpheus reminded her as he failed to pull his face away from her grasp. "He's going to have control of the Damocles, Shamna! You'll be completely irrelevant to him once he has it!"

Shamna shook her head and closed her eyes like he was missing some kind of significant truth. "The Damocles is more or less a symbol of power, Orpheus. Nuclear might always has been a last resort to make the other side bend to one's authority. Any great nation with even an ounce of sense knows that allies have far more value than even the mightiest weapon."

"If there's one thing that should be clear about Lelouch, it's that he doesn't operate under traditional standards of logic. If he knows that something utterly devoid of it will get the world's attention, he'll do it! Don't let him use you just to gain a temporary financial advantage!"

Shamna broke into a cacophony of amused laughter and held her forehead. "My dear fool, I would expect you to know more about me than almost anyone! I don't trust him, obviously. I already have multiple backup plans ready in case he finally decides to stab me in the back. I have eyes everywhere, Zevon. I make a habit of knowing my customers' preferences and tendencies. For the time being, he will continue his partnership with me. But after he has won and I see any sign at all that he intends to make Zilkhistan another victim of his conquest, then I will show him just how crafty I can be. But enough speculating on the future—let's talk about us."

Orpheus bristled when he saw the multiple instruments of torture on a table off to the side of the room. Several guards were stationed around him, as well as a few scientists working at some computer stations. It dawned on him what this had to be about. Oh no. . . .

Shamna picked up on his alarm and naturally used the opportunity to flirt a little more. "Yesssss," she moaned as she placed her finger on his chest and traced circles around it, prompting him to close his eyes and shudder in disgust. "I want to see what makes you tick, Orpheus. Your Geass is most peculiar. Is it based on illusion? A trick of the light or altering people's minds? You may be one of the most fascinating specimens we have ever caught." She leaned in and whispered in his ear, her breath hot and titillating against his neck. "We're going to start with some preliminary research—scans and the like. But eventually, it will come down to some more traditional methods. And it won't just be about finding out about your special abilities. I want Peace Mark expunged from this world. If I am to be one of its rulers, all dissenters must be brought to their knees. I will be mankind's goddess. And I will make you and your precious little Knight of the Round my first devotees. Oh . . . and perhaps Marrybell too, if Lelouch ever takes his foolish shot at me."

Opheus grimaced as she blew into his ear, and he was unable to hide his fear when she put herself back into his view. "You . . . How do you . . . ?"

Shamna chortled with an air of menace and glowered victoriously. "I've been watching you for a long time, Orpheus, even before you contacted me for business. I've had a crush on you for a while now. You really are quite popular with the young ladies, aren't you? You're so lucky, getting the best of the three of us."

Orpheus struggled against his bonds in vain, wanting nothing more than to roundhouse kick her conniving face. "You . . . witch."

"Ah, ah, ah," she chided him, playfully tapping him on the nose with each tut. "The more you resist, the more likely I will be to hurt them. Make this easy on yourself and your escaped catch and tell us everything we want to know about your time among the Geass Order."

Orpheus fixed her with a determined gaze and sneered. "You'll have to beat it out of me, you whore. There's no way in Hell I'd ever let you use me to gain more Geass power."

Shamna smiled, actually pleased that he had figured out her true intentions for him. "Hm, I should commend you. You are quite insightful for your age. Everyone, please leave the room. I wish to use my 'special interrogation serum' on the prisoner."

All in the room looked at the queen worriedly, but they knew that there was nothing they could do to protest such a method. Judging by Shamna's reputation, Orpheus could vividly guess what she was going to do to him. One by one, the queen's underlings filed out of the room, their equipment still running.

Now that they were alone, Shamna reached into a pouch she was carrying at her side and held the small bottle beneath his nose. "This little concoction is what made you fall right into my arms yesterday, darling," she explained smugly. "It's a brew of my own design that primarily acts as a powerful aphrodisiac, but when it is concentrated enough it will render its target unconscious and liable to have some very stimulating dreams. Allow me to demonstrate what a tiny drop can do."

Unscrewing the cap of the potion, Shamna forced his head back and dropped a single speck of it into Orpheus's puckered lips that he was trying to desperately keep closed. Being undiluted, the effect of the drug happened within seconds of it absorbing into the capillaries inside the soft tissues of his mouth. His breathing became rapid and shallow and he could feel an uncomfortable energy coursing through his veins. His brain left like it was on fire, and he felt an odd tingle all throughout his body along with a slight sense of relief when Shamna stroked his cheek with the back of her slender fingers.

"Do you want me, my love?" she whispered to him, her eyes sly and inviting. "Then tell me everything I want to know. Or else . . . I can increase your desire. It will only continue for hours unless I release it. It's psychologically and physically draining to the point that the few who have succeeded in resisting it have gone completely mad."

Orpheus let his mind go blank, blocking out the world around him as much as he could. But the forced concupiscence he was undergoing was so intense that it was almost painful. The woman in front of him who he could smell and hear despite his eyes being shut was steadily growing more and more desirable. Her very presence was . . . intoxicating.

"No!" he grunted as he pulled away from the kiss that she was trying to force upon him. "M-Monica . . ."

"Tell me what I want to know and you will see her again, Orpheus," Shamna promised him, though he knew her well enough to recognize it as a lie. "Just begin your tale . . . and I can give you relief. Then I can grant you the reassurance of your beloved's safety."

Orpheus let his guard down and looked at her, his eyes wet with tears and his body growing sweaty with induced excitement. "You . . . know where she is?"

Shamna smiled in a false expression of reassurance. "Lelouch has informed me that she is in his captivity. If she should continue to resist his authority, she will be punished accordingly. But maybe if you give me what I want, a deal can be struck and she can be released safely. Otherwise—hmm, she is quite a lovely girl, isn't she? A man like Lelouch can certainly find a good use for her."

Orpheus hesitated, beginning to genuinely think of relinquishing everything he knew about his Geass and Peace Mark's current operations. But for all of the agony he was enduring at the moment, he knew he would live to regret relenting to the queen's threats and wiles. But Monica . . . Marrybell . . .

No! For the good of the world, he had to keep his conscience clean, even if a couple of people he cared for were sure to suffer for it. How ironic that he and Monica were essentially on the same side now. Maybe it was star-crossed love after all. . . .

Something about that thought only strengthened his resolve. Yes. He would one day make it out of here and finally tell Monica how he felt about her! There was no way he was going to compromise his beliefs after such a realization. He was going to fight this shameless trollop until the bitter end!

Baring his teeth, Orpheus released all of his frustration in a long, infuriated growl. "I'm afraid you're going to have to wait this out with me, Shamna," he wheezed, forcing himself to not tremble from weakness. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

Shamna paused, her expression indicating that she had been expecting this response. So, casually shrugging his refusal off, she forced his head back again and plopped another speck from the dropper into his slightly less resistant mouth.

Orpheus thought he might heave from the sheer mindlessness he felt now, and only after two drops of that stuff. Bowing his head, he tried to ignore Shamna's alluring figure right in front of him. But he could feel himself slipping. She was trying to seduce him again, running her fingers across his chest and down his back. She was so warm . . . So beautiful . . . He felt like he might die if he didn't have her . . .

"N-No . . . ," he forced himself to resist. "I . . . won't . . . give you . . . what you . . . want . . ." Every word was a challenge to utter. His mind was already breaking, and he didn't know how long he would be able to hold out. This was an indescribable type of agony that he never would have thought possible.

Shamna responded by pulling him into a passionate kiss, and he had to use every bit of his willpower to not return it. The queen held his chin in her thumb and forefinger and smiled cunningly, knowing that he wouldn't be able to prolong his suffering for much longer. "Oh, you will, my king. I am willing to wait it out, too." Sauntering to the corner, she pulled a chair up so she could sit in front of him and stare at him petulantly, her palms resting on her legs which were crossed to appear as inviting as possible. "I don't want your mind to break, Orpheus," she assured him with a prideful smile. "I don't just want your body. I want you, mind and courageous soul intact. So you have my word that I won't give you enough to drive you crazy, but this is still going to be a very unpleasant experience. And I won't stop giving you the drug once it has initially worn off. You will be quite the challenge for me to break. But that is going to only make the inevitable result all the more satisfying," she chuckled with a hungry lick around her lips.

Orpheus could only look at her beneath hooded eyelids, his vision bleary as his body was continuously wracked with a horrible excitement, sweat sticking to him everywhere as all of his attention was centered on the maddeningly alluring woman who knew full well that she would get everything she wanted from her prisoner eventually.

Guard duty had both its benefits and its drawbacks. For one thing, it was easy. Alternatively . . . it was easy. Easy to fall asleep and maybe miss the one thing he should be watching out for.

Fredrick Rockford was a perfectly average man with a thinning scalp of coarse, red hair. He had been fighting for Peace Mark for three years now, and he was in as much awe as everyone else by the bizarre circumstances the entire world faced. He had believed in Zero at one point. Now, it was clear that the exiled prince's intentions had been selfish revenge from the start.

Keeping his keen eyes scanning the area for any hint of a threat, Fredrick forced himself to remain totally alert despite his tiredness. He was glad that guards worked on only one-hour shifts among their camp, but this had been such a tiring day that he wished he could turn in and leave this first shift to someone with far more vigor. He was a middle-aged man who prided himself in being in good shape, but age just didn't let certain frailties go unexploited, no matter how fit the person was.

His shift was only a quarter of the way through and he knew that he would fall asleep if he didn't keep his mind constantly busy, and scanning the unremarkable, flat desert for any signs of an intruder was too monotonous to be stimulating enough.

He kind of wished he could have a fire outside of his cell's hideout to keep him warm since the temperature plunged to near-freezing levels even during the warm months during the night in the Arabian desert. But life had become an even more desperate struggle for survival since Lelouch had taken over only a single week ago, and he couldn't afford to take any risks if it exposed him and the rest of his comrades to the danger of discovery.

So there he sat, bundled up and doing his best to not let his weathered and battered body lose the fight to a peaceful extra hour of sleep. His and dozens of other people's lives may rely on him, anyway.

All of a sudden, as if fate was giving him extra incentive to keep his determination steadfast, the whine of airship engines echoed across the desert before being interrupted by a crashing bang as a fireball erupted into the sky, briefly lighting the form of a small craft that was obviously heavily damaged and had finally succumbed to its battle wounds. Down and down the vehicle plummeted until it at last crashed into the relatively soft desert dunes below, only a few hundred yards from the hidden camp.

This couldn't be a coincidence, Fredrick knew intuitively. Someone had fought hard to finally make it here. He only hoped that this potential ally had survived the crash and would be well enough to aid their fight.

Running over the billowing sand that reflected the pale embrace of the moon light, the seasoned freedom fighter called out to the pilot who he now saw was struggling to make it out of the cockpit, "Hey, man! Are you okay? Sweet Lord, I'm amazed you're in one piece after that!" The newcomer turned, swaying on his legs and taking a weak step toward his rescuer. Then he fell to the ground just before Fredrick could come to his aid. "Hey!" Fredrick encouraged him as he turned him over so he could dust the sand off of his youthful, bruised face. "We need to get away from this fire. Come on, I'll stand you up in one, tw—wait a second."

The young man whose blonde head he was cradling in his arms painfully opened his eyes, and Fredrick finally recognized this one who would be an extremely valuable ally in this civil war. "G-Gino Weinberg?" he couldn't help but gawk at this stroke of luck. "The Knight of Three? It was known you were captured by Lelouch. H-How did you escape?"

The young, slight man smiled bitterly and hauled a weak arm up and pointed at his face, which, Fredrick now realized, wasn't covered in cuts and bruises from his crash-landing. "My damned charisma and drive," Gino explained weakly. "Putting myself through a gauntlet of even worse abuse than my interrogation tortures just to get a single ship. Lelouch is crazy. . . . The guards were rabid . . . a-animals." He forced himself to sit up and rubbed his sore neck. "Left Monica and Dorthy behind. The things he's . . . already done to them. Wish I . . . could've brought them," he ended his lament in a sob and curled up into a ball as he began trying to stifle his emotions.

"Hey, hey." Fredrick patted his back, which was bare and covered in more cuts than he could count. "We'll free your friends when we can, okay? Come on inside. We'll get you patched up and give you a proper meal before bed. You can tell us everything once you're settled."

The boy looked up from his outburst and stared at the flames that were starting to grow from the rear of his ruined escape craft. Finally, some semblance of reason clicked in his head and he nodded, his eyes hollow and uncaring as he was evidently just relieved to have a respite from the suffering he had been enduring for the past several days.

Fredrick kept his eyes locked onto the tunnel entrance as it grew steadily closer, but he tried to make conversation to continue to gauge his guest's cognitive state. "Y-You know," he laughed in irony, "despite us fighting on different sides, I looked up to most of you Knights of the Round. I always thought, if I ever run into one of you guys, I'm hauling you out of your Knightmare and recruiting you whether you want it or not. Always honorable, always diplomatic. Makes me wonder what the hell you all were doing fighting for a tyrant."

Gino's eyes gained a slight spark of life, and he seemed to be wondering the same thing. "I'm . . . not sure myself exactly," he admitted tiredly. "Maybe it was the influence we had. People looked up to us. Imitated us."

"Teaching by example. That's a good method for change. I've had a thing for the Arab among you for a time. Dorothea, her name is, right? A pale and spoiled Brit girl can't beat a full-bodied desert beauty with so much charisma as her, eh? Just you wait—we'll be breaking your friends out of prison before too long and I'll be sharing a pint with her, you, and Miss Krushevsky. I promise!"

"I-I wish it was as simple as that," Gino choked, his face growing slightly paler as a disturbing memory was dredged up. Fredrick glanced at him in worry, and Gino shook his head to slightly allay his fears. "They aren't dead," he assured him, "but . . . oh God . . ." He closed his eyes and almost looked like he was about to throw up. "Not even Charles was so cruel. . . ."

Fredrick swallowed his rising sickness and finished the task of helping the defected knight into their shelter in the small underground labyrinth. Once Fredrick and his rescue had reached the primary barracks, he called to his barely-dozing compatriots, "Everybody up! We've got a wounded man here and he needs medical attention, food, and water! And there's a large fire outside that needs dousing pronto!"

The reaction among the rest of them was immediate. Most of them hadn't even fallen asleep yet and had been alerted by the sound of them entering the room. Lights were turned on and even a few cautionary guns and knives were drawn—which were all quickly put away once everyone in the room recognized the sort-of freedom fighter who had been one to take the first initiative of removing the Demon Emperor from power. Little did Gino know, he had become something of a legend since his embarrassing defeat.

"Oh my God!" a man who had been sleeping near the door exclaimed as he approached him before taking his hand and shaking it vigorously. "You've got more guts than all of us combined, kid. Puppet of Charles or not, the past is the past and we're all on the same side now."

"Great," Gino replied with a weak smile. "Can I lay down now? If I stand any longer my bones will cave in on themselves." Fredrick and Gino's eager fan looked at each other worriedly, and Fredrick helped their guest to the other man's own bed so he could sit and drink a cup of water that someone had brought for him.

"So what exactly happened? How did you escape?" Fredrick asked more directly this time, and Gino realized that a crowd was gathering around him now.

Timidly handing his empty cup to someone, Gino sat with his hands nervously wringing on his knees. "Well . . . s-see . . ." He swallowed, his face blanching again. "Over the last several days, Lelouch has been interrogating us. I didn't give in at first. None of us did. He set us up so we had to watch each other get whipped. Apparently he chills his interrogation rooms now. It's pretty effective at making you nearly crack when you've got nothing on to protect you.

"But we all remained strong and didn't reveal any information about the rebellion. His methods got more brutal—he burned me a few times, but even that wasn't enough to make me talk. But I wish I had seen the signs of his intentions for Monica and Dorothea from the start. The more they resisted, the more he . . . Oh, God!" He held his head in his hands and heaved out a shudder. Finally, he forced himself to continue his story despite his rising nausea.

"Once he realized they would need to be permanently harmed before they would talk, he disclosed his true intentions for them: They're his trophies now. He won't hurt them enough to cause permanent damage, but he managed to coerce them into doing anything he wants on the punishment of a lashing. Or on the threat that I would be hurt even worse.

"He . . ." Gino swallowed and hugged his legs close to him as he fought to keep the memory from overwhelming him. "He dressed them in revealing clothes and forced them to be his attendants. Sometimes, he even forces them to dance or else they'll be punished. And . . . in a final effort to make me talk he-"

Gino actually retched a fraction once the memory was completely brought to mind. "I can't describe what he did to them right before my eyes out loud. The emptiness in their eyes. They had no fight left in them and he could just . . . violate them as he wanted. He's a sick man. Utterly beyond redemption. I don't care if he was abandoned as a child. He's insane and twisted and needs to be put down once and for all."

The room had lapsed into a horrified silence. No one made a sound aside from a quiet sob of disgust as a few considered very graphically what the emperor could be doing to the poor young women at that very moment. Finally, a harsh, cantankerous voice interrupted the pall.

"Well, it's about time you self-righteous hypocrites finally learned a lesson or two," a young, feminine voice called from somewhere in the crowd. "Like, would it have been so hard to consider how the rest of us felt about you fart-sniffing aristocrats fighting for the ones who were your supposed political rivals?"

Everyone turned to see the young red-headed woman sitting cross-legged on her bed and slumped over, largely uninterested in the newcomer aside from any criticism she could throw his way. "Rita," Fredrick sighed as he ran a hand over his hair worriedly, "please treat the young man with respect. He's been through enough in just the la-"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Rita continued to rant as she stood up and began swaggering toward the shaken and abused defector with her hands in her shorts' pockets, still slumped over tiredly. "It's not like half your family was killed in front of you. No way you could understand the hardship of starving while wandering for weeks and having to kill your fellow lowly rats just to survive. Yeah, you're right, Dad. He hasn't been through enough yet." Rita stopped in front of Gino, who had completely turned his body so he could look at the bedraggled but still incredibly beautiful young woman who was staring him down with true daggers for eyes. "Welcome to the Losers Club, Brit," Rita mocked him with a sneer of revulsion. "'bout damn time your empire started crumbling."

Gino swallowed nervously, suddenly aware of how unwashed even she smelled despite her looks. Everything about her gave off a pall of bitterness and hatred. He hadn't stumbled into pleasant company if she was going to be a constant presence here. "L-Listen . . . I can't understand what you've gone through, true," he responded earnestly, "but what mat—Mm!" His words were silenced by a slap that was so forceful it would have sent him reeling backwards off the bed if it had been an actual punch. He stared at his assailant as he clutched his burning cheek, now too shaken to even speak as tears began stinging his eyes and threatening to trickle down his dirt-smeared face.

"Save it for the battlefield, schmoozer," Rita hissed as she continued to stare him down with all of the authority and detest of an Empress who had just conquered her oppressive foe. "For all your moral posturing and ideals, you're just another pawn who could have been blasted to pieces and added to Charles's body count. You wanna show you've got sympathy for us? Prove it. Kill your fellow Britannians to depose this maniac."

Watching in stunned silence, Gino began trembling as she stormed away, wondering if he should allow himself to cry in front of all these people he had evidently inspired, as well as his new enemy.

"We'll get you your own room to sleep in," Fredrick decided on the spot as he recognized Gino's fragile emotional state. "And we'll have our doctor look at you before we get you something to eat."

Gino silently agreed and allowed himself to be helped out of the room, doubtful that he could ever truly be considered one of these brave souls who had completely rejected everything Britannia had stood for. Little did he realize there was something far more sinister behind his motives that was locked away in a tiny portion of his brain, waiting for the right time to finally activate and dismantle everything these people had struggled for in a single stroke.