Disclaimer:
The following is a recursive fic for the fiction piece 'Excalibur: The Witch in the Lake' by Aminta Defender, and contains content that may spoil part of the story up to chapter 24. While this can be read standalone, it's highly recommended you read Excalibur first before reading this (starting with book 1- a Sword Forged by Stone).
Imperial Palace, New Pendragon
Resting her head against the palm of her hand, Carine idly swung her foot off the side of her bed.
Today had been a complete disaster. Mere hours ago, she had been enjoying the delicious cries of those despicable commoners. Now, she was stuck in her room, the bandages doing a poor job of alleviating the pain that continued to ferociously assault her back.
Damn that impudent brat. Who the hell does he think he is?! The son of a commoner whore should know his place! I swear, so help me…"
Nails biting into her palms, Carine could think of no better justice than seeing the commoner Prince live his life chained in the deepest, darkest OSI interrogation dungeon imaginable– anything to inflict even the slightest fraction of pain back onto her despicable half sibling. If it wasn't for him, she'd still be enjoying the best life had to offer. She was royalty. A bonafide princess of the realm, and yet here she was, reduced to nothing more than a soon-to-be military grunt because someone couldn't keep to themselves.
Why did everything always go south when he was involved? She could never get her way when it came to Lelouch. Even years ago, he had proven himself to be an annoyance when she had pointed out Nunally's incompetence. Rather than accept the truth for what it was, that his pathetic sister was nothing more than an invalid and an outcast of the imperial family, the brat just had to go and make her life a living hell.
Now, because of that impudent little cur, her entire royal guard was dead and she was as good as any of them with her social status being revoked. She swore, if she ever saw that boy again he wouldn't live to see her disgrace a second longer. She didn't know how she'd do it, but she would be certain to make him pay for this, consequences be damned.
Two knocks on the door interrupted her mindless brooding.
"Your H- Er, Ms. Carine- a package has arrived for you," one of the palace servants interrupted.
Huh? Who in the world would be sending her a package at this hour? Rather, who would be stupid enough to give any attention to her whatsoever? Between the disgrace she had just endured and the denouncement of her royal status, she didn't think anyone would be so moronic as to try and send anything to someone that her father clearly hated.
"Who's it from?"
"I was instructed not to say, Ms. Carine."
"Hmmm…" Letting out a sigh, she got up from the bed, wincing in pain as the lashes on her back gave way to another round of painful throbbing. She was going to kill Lelouch one day, she swore it.
Fighting through the pain, she took each step painfully slowly trying her best not to irritate her wound any more than it already was. Finally managing to open the door, she hurriedly took the package from the servant and dismissed him as quickly as he came. She was at least slightly grateful that he wasn't sticking around to witness her in such a state.
Why had Lelouch done this to her? Why did their father favor him so? She simply couldn't wrap her head around it. He was in a servants uniform for god's sake! He should be polishing her boots and begging to please her every whim and fancy, not causing her life to crumble around her.
If that wasn't bad enough, she had to deal with the massive blow to her pride as well. After everything he had done, the Emperor had ordered her to be grateful to him.
Was he mad? She'd rather burn for a thousand years in the lowest pit of hell that existed than show so much as an ounce of respect or gratitude to that half blooded bastard. It was because of him that her back already felt like it was on fire. She would not forget this humiliation no matter how much time passed. After all, if there was one thing royals were best known for, it was their ability to hold a grudge.
For now though, her vengeance would have to wait. There was nothing she could do about it now, so her only option was to look at the present. Soon enough, she found herself staring at the thick paper wrapping of the package. she found herself surprised by how bulky and crude the thing was. Clearly the sender didn't have any sense of class.
Shaking her head, she pushed such useless thoughts to the back of her mind. Now wasn't the time to be worrying about social status, after all. Not when hers had just been completely revoked.
Refusing to waste a second longer, she quickly unraveled the low quality paper wrapping and opened the small box that lay within, eyes widening as she glanced at the items inside.
The first thing she noticed was a small bundle of papers. Reading over them, she was again surprised to see that it was an encyclopedia's worth of information- profiles of people she'd never met, yet clear indications present that marked them as either vermin to look out for, or potential supporters to get in contact with to try and establish friendly relations– Many of which included certain relatively high ranking officials at the Pendleton camp where she was set to be deployed come morning.
That wasn't all though, far from it. Placed next to the goldmine of information was another set of documents, the front page clearly showing her own face plastered on it, albeit without the filters and style that normally surrounded any member of royalty when their photo was taken. Beneath the picture was a name- Courtney Vasengale. As she began to read the document in full, she noted that the girl on the paper was listed to have her features, minus a few interesting, notable discrepancies. For one, her eye color was off. Even in the picture, her eyes were clearly edited to be a dark shade of green as opposed to their natural illustrious blue. Was this what she thought it was?
Taking another look at the rest of the items in the box, she found herself taking out a tiny case within. Opening it up, she found a pair of contacts that matched the green hue listed on the documents. A fake identity.
Who would go through the effort? Not only was it akin to social suicide should the Emperor find out, but she didn't have the greatest reputation to begin with. She couldn't think of any friends she'd made that would go this far for her. Even her closest allies generally only visited her when they wanted something. Guinevere, maybe? She had invited her to tea on seldom occasions just to chat, but even then she had always been digging for information. No, she wouldn't risk the Emperor's ire by providing her with this.
Taking another look at the contents, she took note of everything else within the box. At the bottom was a tiny, wooden pin with a note attached. Supposedly, the end had been sharpened to be a proficient weapon and the thing was small enough to fit underneath a shoe, should it ever be necessary.
Next to it, several tiny vials existed with unknown liquids inside. Looking at the fine print on each of them revealed to be antidotes of different kinds, with the symptoms listed for the poisons that they counteracted.
She bit her bottom lip in frustration. She couldn't think of a single person in her life, family member or not, who would go through so much effort to help prepare her like this. Her reputation was downright terrible, not that she had ever minded before now. A princess shouldn't have to worry about such trivial things.
Now, she found herself on the verge of tearing up at the consideration being shown to someone who she would probably never meet again, assuming she had ever met them to begin with. Her father had handed her nothing short of a death sentence. She wasn't oblivious to the dangers that surrounded those of the imperial family. That was why she had a royal guard in the first place, and without anyone to protect her, to fight in her name, she was powerless.
That wasn't all the mysterious sender had provided her with, either. Among the various documents and tools the package contained were several combat guides for beginners, depicting many different styles of combat. Another paper listed common behavioral traits that assassins tended to possess and how to look out for them. She didn't miss the hidden implication; beginning tomorrow, she would be targeted, if for no other reason than because she was a spawn of Charles zi Britannia.
She wouldn't let this gift go unutilized. She'd study every paper, memorize every note included and do her best to survive. Britannia was a nation where the strongest survived, and she would prove to her father that she could be strong, that she could survive on her own- without the help of any guards or servants to take care of her.
She would show just how much of a Britannian she could be. One day, she would be back in her father's good graces. One day, she would provide a proper 'thank you' to the person who had given her the means needed to be self-sufficient. If a filthy commoner Prince like Lelouch of all people was strong enough to earn her father's favor, then there was no way she couldn't. Reading over the combat papers once more, she began to practice swinging her arms in the motions depicted, gritting her teeth and fighting through the pain that began searing her back once more.
It was time to get to work.
Camp Pendleton, Southern New Pendragon
Let it be known that public transportation was an absolute nightmare. There were no beds provided for her to rest on, nor were the seats nearly soft enough to be comfortable, let alone enjoyable. She was beginning to realize now just how pampered and luxurious her quarters were. Not that this would stop her, though. It would take more than a bad flight and a bumpy bus ride to see her determination waver. As a full blooded Britannian, she was nothing if not adaptable. She had to be if she were to survive.
Looking around, she began to wonder how the others on the bus lived their lives. Clearly, they were void of any sense of luxury or style, given their lack of apparel. It was also clear that they didn't have any sense of class, if their posture was anything to go by. In a way, she hated to admit that it almost felt liberating.
No longer would she have to maintain a strict sense of noble etiquette, nor would she have to present herself as prim and proper whenever she had company- not that she planned on having any. While she may currently have to look and act like one, the idea of having to associate with these commoners was still repulsive. If Lelouch could do it though, then so could she. She wouldn't let him be the favored son for long.
One thing she was thankful for though was the spare change of clothes that had been hidden underneath a false bottom in the package she had received. She had only found it early this morning after realizing the package was a bit too heavy after all the other contents had been removed and prepared appropriately. She knew her identity must be kept secret at all costs if she had any hope of making it out of this alive. One day, she would thank the person who gave her this opportunity properly. Carine was not the type of girl to let a debt go unpaid.
"Everybody off!"
Looks like this was her stop.
As everyone scurried to grab the tiny bits of luggage they were allowed to bring, she stood up and finally stretched her now sore limbs. Being Royalty had given her plenty of experience with sitting down for extended periods of time, but never before had it felt so cramped.
"Can you believe it? I heard Pendleton was the best Britannia had to offer when it came to military training. Why does it look so run down?"
"Dunno, maybe they want to enforce a sense of realism? I bet they have a nobles quarter somewhere that's pristine and kept in perfect condition for those hoity toity bastards."
Well, if she had any doubt about how she would be viewed by these mongrels before, she didn't now. It was just like the commoners to scoff at beauty they couldn't even see, and she was stuck playing pretend with them. Still, she'd have to adapt quickly if there was to be any hope of fitting in without drawing suspicion.
After having finally waited for everyone to grab their things and depart, she finally grabbed her own few belongings and made her way off the bus. Her dyed hair itched in the hot sun, and her feet felt strange and uncomfortable on the uneven asphalt. Taking a quick look around, she found herself agreeing with what those plebeians had said. For a state of the art military training facility, the place looked as though it hadn't been maintained in years. The buildings were old and torn, the paint scratched and faded. She wasn't given much time to observe, however, as soon enough a rough looking man with a jaded face and a sharp goatee approached.
"Line up, ladies!"
Her eardrums were already burning. Did he have to be so loud?
"This isn't a vacation and you're not here to sightsee. This is the Britannian Armed Forces, and for the next eleven weeks this outhouse of a base will be your home. While you are here, you will call me Sergeant Stanford and you will respond to me with 'Yes Sir' at all times. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir!"
She took a quick look around, surprised to see how subservient all these people had become. Without so much as a word, everyone had quickly fallen in line and acknowledged the man as their superior. He hadn't even done anything to deserve their loyalty! Nor was he a lord or a royal. People didn't just fall in line and do as they were told because a commoner told them to, did they?
"Something you want to say, Private?"
"There's a lot I would like to say about you, you crude insignificant vermin." she muttered under her breath. This would be a challenging week indeed.
"Care to repeat yourself, bulletbait?"
The man's senses were sharp. She thought she was keeping her disdain fairly well hidden.
"Nothing at all, Sir. Please, carry on."
"Oh? And who the hell do you think you are to order me? Drop down and give me thirty!"
Thirty? Thirty what?
"Um…"
Nothing in the combat books she had read told her how to prepare for basic military training. This wasn't going well, she had to adapt and learn quicker than this if she wanted to survive. What was a basic stance she could do thirty of? Wait, no, he told her to get down. Was there any type of exercise that required being on the ground? Ah, sit-ups! The idea of getting the back of her shirt all dirty was abhorrent, but it was well worth it if it would help her blend in.
"What the hell are you doing, Private?! Were you dropped on your head as a baby? Or are you truly so weak that you can't even use your own arms to support yourself?"
Panic began to fill her eyes. She had clearly made a mistake, and she had been too proud to ask the man to explain himself. Almost as if to mock her decision, several chuckles began to make themselves heard among the other recruits.
What had she done wrong?!
"I apologize, Sir. I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."
"Did no one ever tell you how to do a push up, maggot? Surely you've seen daddy get down on his hands and feet before. What kind of Private are you if you can't even follow the most basic of instructions? Good soldiers follow orders."
As if the Emperor would bother with such pointless things, and that was assuming the man was willing to spend time with her or even pretend to be a father. No, she didn't care about him, and she knew he definitely didn't care about her. Although… perhaps on his hands and feet was where the Emperor belonged. If he spent all of his time with that commoner prince, it would only be fair that he himself be treated like one. The mental image of His Majesty on the ground doing what she now knew was called a 'push-up' forced an eerie smile on her face.
"Is something funny, Private?! Go put your belongings in the barracks! I want it done in three minutes tops. After that, you're doing push-ups until you've collapsed in your own vomit. Maybe then you'll learn to appreciate the hospitality that the Britannian Army has to offer. Move!"
Shit. Damn the Emperor to hell and back. If there was one thing she could be certain of, it was her hatred for the man she would never again mistake for being her father.
Mess Hall, Camp Pendleton
The food was bland and unrefined. Not that she had expected any different, but still. This was a far cry from the tasty and luxurious meals she had come to enjoy. She didn't understand how the commoners could live off of this gruel.
…Well, maybe she could, if only slightly. While the food itself was awful and tasted nothing like what she had back home, it was still the best thing she had eaten since waking up this morning, and that wasn't even mentioning how quickly she had scarfed the very same grub down a week prior.
Her arms were still sore, but at least she could actually feel them again. She had been made to do a lot of running over the past few days, and she was grateful that her arms at least were getting a much needed overdue break.
"Enjoying the food, Courtney?"
A tray with the same disgraceful blend of protein and misery found it's way next to hers, and it was all she could do not to grunt in annoyance.
"As if anyone could enjoy this. Please, if you're going to make a joke you could at least try to put the effort in to make it humorous."
"But where would the fun in that be? That grouchy look on your face is a constant source of entertainment, after all~."
She really didn't like this girl. Alice, as she had recently come to know, was a happy-go-lucky fool who really didn't know how to understand social cues, or simply didn't know what they were. She couldn't figure out which and she didn't care to ask.
Still though, while the girl was definitely annoying, she at least had the benefit of keeping her from being completely ostracized from her squad mates. She didn't seem to care that the Sergeant seemed to have a personal vendetta against her, nor did she ever complain when they would get punished with extra laps for 'creating useless noise' every time she had to explain something to her that she didn't understand, such as how to make her bed or get the shower to spray hot water. For as useless as they were, she had to admit she missed having servants around.
"Must you always find such pleasures in my suffering? It's rather unbecoming of a lady."
"Awww, don't be like that! You know as well as I do that it could be a hell of a lot worse. You could be cleaning vomit off your pants like you were on the first day. Seriously, who doesn't know what a push up is?" Alice continued to giggle, much to her chagrin.
"Don't remind me," she responded flatly.
It's not that she didn't know what it was, it's that she didn't know what the Sergeant had been asking for. It was his fault for not speaking clearly, although it didn't seem as though Alice or anyone else in her squad cared about the distinction.
Adjusting the first few days truly had been a nightmare. After having pushed her arms to the point that she thought they were broken, she was still required to use them to pick up her own clothes, do her own laundry, prepare her own meals, and clean her own dishes- and those were just the basic responsibilities, not including all the training exercises and classes they were taking.
Still, as much as she hated to admit to it, she couldn't help but look back and smile on her first week here. If you ignored the fact that she was surrounded by undesirables all day long and that life itself was now proving to be a never ending roller coaster of trials and tribulations,, she had done a remarkable job making it this far. She was proud of her feat; happy that she was making fine progress towards her goal of successfully enduring this hell. Ten more weeks, and she'll have proved herself to be more of a Britannian than any of her siblings ever had, barring Cornelia.
"Say, Alice, why exactly did you join the military? Based on your careless attitude and your general disregard for consequences, would it be accurate to say that you're purposefully being irresponsible with your own life? Or are you trying to prove yourself in some manner?
"Huh? What in the world are you talking about? You know, for someone who's always clueless and seems to lack any form of common sense, you still tend to talk as though you just graduated from a top university."
That was… Fair. Old habits were hard to break, and she tended to fall back on her tutor's teachings when she didn't know how to properly interact with someone. It still irritated her that a commoner of all people was critiquing her though.
"...I apologize for inconveniencing you,"
"And once again, you're missing the point," Alice sighed.
"Look, Courtney. Not everything has some deeper meaning to it. Not every decision needs to be made by second guessing yourself over and over again until I or someone else takes pity on you and explains how to do something properly,
And as for me, joining the military wasn't some deep philosophical realization that I came to. I did it because it's what felt natural to me and nothing more,"
She was infuriating. Who the hell did she think she was to judge her intentions? Even if she hadn't been incorrect, it was still irksome that she was stuck having to put up with this.
"Is that really it? You joined the military just because you could and no other reason?"
"Well, yeah? I mean, it's what made sense for me. My dad was a military man, and he always went on and on about how useful his time in the Army was for him. Taught him everything he needed to know,"
"And that was enough? Why not follow in your mother's footsteps, or do something less dangerous?"
"Simple. If I followed my mother, then I would've been dead a few short months after my birth. As for danger, what did you expect? I'm a full blooded Britannian. Do you really think I'm going to let a little bit of fear make me freeze up or impact how I decide to live my life? I want to experience everything my dad did, and then some. I want to see as much of the world as I can, even if the sights themselves end up being gruesome and bloody. I'll do my absolute best to make sure I reach my goals."
Well, at least she could empathize with that. She had her own goals to fulfill too, and she'd be damned if she let the fear of assassination or the constant irritation of speaking to ignorant people get the better of her.
She'd rise her way back up to the top, and this time, she'd do it without that bastard's influence.
Simulator Bay, Camp Pendleton
Three dreadful weeks had came and went. By now, she was more than used to her routine. Wake up at dawn. Clean up. Eat. Strategy & Tactics. Exercises. Eat. Exercises. History & Communications. Eat. Sleep.
Her schedule had become so ingrained into her that for the last week, she had been waking up a few minutes early before the bell even rung. Her body had adapted well, for better or worse.
All the more reason why this sudden change was somewhat baffling. Rather than spend time in a dreary classroom listening on and on to a bunch of propaganda that she had already heard was utter bullshit from her tutors, she was instead standing in front of a bunch of high tech machinery with what had to be Knightmares cockpits attached.
From what she understood, only Britannia's best knights ever got the chance to pilot these machines. What were a bunch of cockpits doing inside of a warehouse though?
"Attention!" Sergeant Stanford yelled
"Sir!" A chorus of salutes responded.
"This here is a KMF-S-2005, or better known as a Knightmare Simulator. Make no mistake, while you worthless ingrates can only ever dream of becoming true Britannian Knights, you should consider yourselves lucky that military law requires each and every new recruit has the opportunity to prove themselves a capable pilot," Stanford stated robotically.
She could hardly believe it. This was her chance, her golden ticket. While her tutors had taught her military history and how reliant the military now was on having competent Knights in the battlefield, they had never mentioned a thing about how you were supposed to actually become one. Such stations were generally beneath royals, after all.
"From now until you graduate basic, your evening exercises will be replaced with a new training regimen. Starting at seventeen hundred hours, for three hours every day, you will be inside these cockpits and doing your utmost to prove your worth.
"You will undergo excruciating training, hellish combat scenarios and increasingly frustrating team building exercises until you've learned to rely on your fellow man just as much as you do your machine. Make no mistake, ladies. This is your one and only shot to prove you've got what it takes to be part of Britannia's elite, to show everyone that you're the exceptional among the ordinary," Stanford really seemed to love his speeches.
"It's up to you whether or not you capitalize on this opportunity. You only have so much time to work in these machines, so if I were you, I'd make it count."
She understood full well what this opportunity meant. As a royal, she never had to bother with proving herself as exceptional. Everyone knew it from day one, and nothing anyone said or did could change that.
Except it did. All it took was a word from that worthless whore lover for her world to come crashing down, only now- now she had the chance to truly show her strength.
"It's impressive, isn't it?" Alice whispered.
"You know, I heard that the very first knightmare prototype they made was originally designed for construction purposes. When they decided to build Pendragon, they wanted to make it as extravagant as quickly as possible and so they engineered a way to put a bunch of people in machines that could handle moving heavy equipment around with ease.
"It was only afterwards that someone had the bright idea to attach a huge rifle to the thing to create the iron & steel personification of death itself."
Where in the world did this girl get these inane ideas from?
"Really, Alice? And where exactly did you hear that? From what I was told, the first actual Knightmare frame was the Ganymede, and it was used in Britannia's early conquest by Marianne. Why would they ever prioritize such deadly vehicles for construction? Other tools already exist that can handle that job just fine."
Loathe as she was to even say her name, she would admit that the whore was a good Knightmare pilot and nothing more. She may have even been respectable had she been content with simply being a Knight of the Round. You didn't need to be an Empress to be useful.
"You don't know that for certain! That's just what the official records state anyways. The idea and prototypes must have existed before they started actually producing them, and how else do you expect Pendragon rising to such prominence so quickly?" Alice chided.
"If you ladies are done gossiping, then get your asses into stations nine and ten! Or would you rather that be the lap count you owe me after training's over with instead?" Stanford reprimanded.
Damn him to hell and back, she couldn't ever catch a break from the obnoxious douchebag.
Still though, the opportunity was too good to waste.
If she could handle herself in a knightmare, if she could adapt and spend as much time as possible learning and reviewing how to best operate this machine of death, not only would she be made a pilot.
She would be made into an actual knight- a noble of her own merit. A minor title, to be sure, but still a noble nonetheless. How many of her siblings could say that they earned their spot into Britannia's elite society? One day, she'd be able to rub it in and prove all those fools how wrong they were to write her off.
One day, she would prove herself as a true Britannian unlike any other.
One day, she would make her ungrateful sperm donor regret disowning her, and she alone would sit atop the throne.
A/N
FIRST- DISCORD: discord . gg / MFKuCGYxcT
So... Hopefully this wasn't completely terrible, for my first ever fanfiction attempt. I'll try to keep this short n sweet to not take up too much time.
Thanks to Dark, Nektry, and Askastles, for your help with proof reading and offering constructive criticism of this fic in its development.
Thanks to Aminta for being an inspiration to this fic and for constantly writing chapters for those of us who enjoy them and are trying to keep this fandom alive. Seriously, I wouldn't be nearly as obsessed with CG fics if it wasn't for her efforts.
Lastly, thanks to all of you for reading. Go check out more of Aminta's fics for amazing content (especially 'Lifting the Veil'. It took some convincing to get her to write it ;) If this fic at all interested you, please feel free to join Aminta's discord for more insights, teases, and general fun within the fandom. link is at the top of the A/N since I'm a shameless self promoting bitch and want that to be the first thing everyone sees.