Dark, ominous clouds drifted across the night sky, shrouding the moon and plunging the land into absolute darkness. Far below, though no one could see him, a figure emerged from the bushes where he had been hiding.
He rushed rapidly forward, running like a leopard on the hunt, swiftly arriving at the wall of the building where his target lay. He grinned as he threw his grappling hook with his powerful arms, just so as to catch the windowsill with the lightest of touches. His muscles rippled under his loose black clothing as he rose swiftly up the rope. He'd been waiting for this night, eager to dispatch this particular prey—and everything was going perfectly.
The window was locked, but he was the best in the business, and his hands were quick and clever. He played the lock like it was a musical masterpiece and his lockpicks were instruments, and after a moment it was open. The window lifted slowly, smoothly, and he slipped expertly through its narrow entrance.
He crept along the hall, towards the door he knew must be the entrance to the sleeping quarters. He looked through the doorway into the thick, billowing darkness—which was no match for his enhanced gaze—and realized that his quarry wasn't there. Light, however, shone out from under the doorway of a nearby bathroom, a beacon like a lighthouse in a dark sea of mystery. Stepping carefully, he approached its door, which was open just a crack. He heard a faucet turn on.
Gazing into the room through the crack, he saw his target—wet and glistening, wearing only a towel. The target must have just taken a shower—even his normally unkempt black hair had fallen flat. The target's muscles were firm, and the man peering through the door couldn't help but watch as they flexed and relaxed. In his distraction, he didn't fully realize when the target turned off the faucet, turned around, and headed toward the door. Sucking in what would have been a gasp, he dove behind the door, allowing the target to open it outward. He drew his knife, creeping up silently as his target walked forward towards a dresser.
It was now or never, he realized. He felt trepidation build inside of him—a surprisingly large part of him didn't want it to end here, but the rest of him was more than ready. This infuriating prince would no longer impede his masters' plans. He raised his knife, feeling the tension build up inside of him as the target bent over to open the dresser drawer. Finally, he leaped at the target, knife in hand, ready to plunge it into him again and again—but suddenly, the target's hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat and stopping him in mid-air.
"Got you. I was wondering who they'd send next." The target said, smirking as the predator-turned-prey squirmed in his hands. The knife had fallen to the floor as the assassin desperately tried to break the iron grip on his throat. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised—Ishiga Hattori, 'the moon's shadow'. Heh."
The target threw Ishiga against a wall, hard, knocking all the breath that was left out of him. Ishiga helplessly gasped for air, staring up at his tall target who now loomed high above him. It was too late… his target had already drawn his sword, though from where Ishiga did not know. Even now, Ishiga refused to let fear rule him, and glared up at the approaching figure in defiance.
"Do your worst, Karya." He spat. Karya laughed evilly.
"Very well, if you're so eager—but, since your attempt was truly so pitiful, I—Ashikana Karya, the demonblade—have decided to give you a choice." To Ishiga's surprise, the tall man reached down and slowly unfolded his towel. It fell to the floor, and Ishiga couldn't help but stare. It would seem that the man lived up to his title in more ways than one.
"Now," Karya said, grinning lecherously, a predatory hunger in his eyes, "you may choose this sword and death—" he flicked his katana so that if flashed in the light, whirring only and inch past Ishiga's face and making him flinch back, "or…"
Ishiga swallowed, hard. This hadn't been how he'd expecting the night to go, and his masters would probably punish him horribly if he returned empty-handed. On the other hand, he didn't want to die. Plus… it was rare he got such an offer. The job was always a lonely one, and besides, he had to admit that he was more than a little interested… he began to lean forward…
"Oh hey Kallen, I was just looking for—"
"Gaahah!" Kallen yelped, practically toppling off of her bed as she rushed to close Ninjas of Love: The Moon's Shadow Tastes the Demon's Blade and shove it under her mattress. She quickly turned to face the intruder, hoping against hope that her face wouldn't betray what she'd just been doing.
"…you." The Britannian Prince Lelouch finished, cocking an eyebrow. Oh… shit.
"Hey! Hello. Did you need something?" Kallen asked, a little too quickly. The Prince paused for a moment, glancing quickly down at the mattress an then back at her. Kallen felt her face heat up even more, and bit back a curse. What did a girl have to do to get some goddamned privacy around here? True, it was everyone's room, but nobody else seemed to even consider knocking, which was not cool. She was going to bring that up at the next team meeting.
"Ah… actually, yes." The Britannian said, bringing Kallen's focus back to the present. "I've been wanting to talk to you, to get to know you better—it seems like we've barely spoken at all since we met."
"Ahah…" Kallen said, doing her best not to cringe. Shit shit shit shit… she'd managed to avoid this exact situation for weeks, and she'd hoped to keep it up for longer—she'd almost made it to the weekend. A whole week at Beacon spent dodging the person in front of her, gone to waste. She was so screwed…
The Britannian prince started to look at her strangely, and so she tried to use a lighthearted laugh to brighten the mood. It ended up sounding more like a nervous cackle. "Ah, uh, any particular reason?" She stalled.
"Well, I'm your team leader—I'm supposed to know your strengths and weaknesses, how you'll react in a given situation, what kind of support you can provide and what kind of support you need." The Prince shrugged, taking a seat on his bed, which Kallen had made sure was on the far side from her own.
"B-but—you've got my file from Ashford, don't you?" Kallen stalled again, though she was rapidly realizing that she didn't really have any plan for how to get out of the situation—stalling now was stalling for stalling's sake. The prince seemed amused, and Kallen felt a little spark of anger enter the already volatile mix of emotions she was feeling. "What?" She demanded.
"Nothing!" The prince protested, waving his hand. "It's just that there's only so much I can learn about you from the file, and most of that isn't what I need to know. There're a couple of things I wanted to ask you about in particular. D'you have time to talk right now?" He asked.
"Yeah, sure-" slipped automatically out of Kallen's mouth before she could catch herself—damn it, that had been her out! Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh—
"I guess the first thing I'm wondering is…why did you decide to come along?" The Prince held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong—I'm not ungrateful that you did, far from it really—but it couldn't have been an easy choice." He said.
"Well…" well, Kallen couldn't tell the truth. The truth truth. Fortunately, there was still truth she could tell that wasn't the full thing—as she'd been taught, a partial truth is more believable than a lie.
"…I guess it was mostly to stick with Suzaku." She finally said.
"Oh?" The Prince said, eyebrow rising again—and Kallen suddenly realized what that might seem to imply.
"No! No, no, I don't mean like that." Kallen protested.
"Like what?" The Prince asked, a little too innocently.
"You know what you—look, never mind. I came because Suzaku and I have been partners for a year now, and we've been working pretty well together." Kallen said.
"Partners. Hm." The Prince said, tapping his finger to his chin.
"I just said it is not like that!" Kallen said, surprised to find that her previous fear was quickly being replaced by irritation.
"Noted." The Prince said, letting his hand fall back to his lap. Kallen saw his eyes narrow slightly, and tried to ignore the fear that was once again rising up, shouting at her to get away from this place. "But why follow Suzaku? Why him over everyone else you know?" The Prince asked.
"I mean, it wasn't just him…" Kallen fished for answers. Damn it was hard to concentrate under the stare of those weird purple eyes. The bastard was testing her, and she didn't know what the right answer was supposed to be. "It's not every day you get the offer to go and study at Beacon free of charge with a Britannian prince." She tried, hoping that he'd take the deflection bait.
"True, I suppose. What about your parents? I'd have thought the Lord Stadfeldt and his wife might have had some objection." He said. Kallen sighed—though she wasn't sure if it was relief or her aggravation at the thought of her 'parents'.
"Oh, as soon as they heard the words 'an imperial prince just asked if I would—' they couldn'tve cared less about what came after. You could've been asking to sacrifice me to the Grimm and theyd've at least thought about it." Kallen said. It disgusted her to think of them both—her father and his precious new woman.
"Oh." The Prince said. He paused for a moment, apparently thinking. "Ah… switching to another subject, I was also wondering if you could give me a personal assessment of your own and Suzaku's combat abilities."
"Huh. Ah, what kind of assessment?" She asked.
"Well, lets say, were I to pit the two of you against each other, who do you think would win and why?" The Prince asked, smirking in what Kallen could only assume was amusement when he saw her discomfort. It was an uncomfortable question. How the hell should she even begin to answer this?
"Um, I guess… probably Suzaku?" The eyebrow raised again, and she had to fight with herself to keep her gaze even with what felt like a pair of all-seeing demon eyes staring at her. "Because, well, I'm no pushover or anything—I could maybe beat him on a good day—but he's got more experience and he's a bit stronger, not to mention his semblance." She finished. The Prince began to laugh.
"Wh-what? Why are you laughing?" Kallen demanded.
"Heh…" The Prince settled back into his normal mask of mystery. "Suzaku said almost the same thing when I asked him about you. It seems you make a good pair." Kallen did not like the emphasis he'd put on that last part, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of a response. The conversation died down into a momentary lull.
"Well," Kallen asked, "anything else you wanted to ask?"
"No—I think I've learned enough for now." The Prince said, nodding once.
"Good! 'cause, I've got to go to lunch pretty soon, or the cafeteria will close up and I won't be able to concentrate until dinner." Kallen said as she stood up, her immense relief at having the opportunity to escape seeping into her voice. She could feel The Prince's eyes follow her out of the door, and tried to ignore the goosebumps popping up on her arms.
Well, she'd survived that, at least, and had even managed to not give anything away. All in all, much less horrible than she'd feared. Still, this was probably still the worst bad idea she'd ever had. It had taken a while for it to dawn on her just how absolutely ridiculously insane her initial plan had been, and by the time it had she'd been halfway to Beacon, thousands of feet above the ocean, and firmly lodged in the belly of the beast.
Speaking of bellies, she really did need to get to the cafeteria, especially now that she knew camping out in their room over lunchtime was not an adequate defense against having to talk to the creature she'd just left behind her.
The cafeteria was still mostly full of students by the time she got there. Kallen began to make her way towards her usual table when she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. Someone with orange hair, a plate full of pancakes, and narrowed eyes staring directly at her from a nearby table. Kallen felt her adrenaline kick in as the girl stood up, the rest of the conversation at her table quieting down.
The girl brought up her hand, took her first two fingers, pointed at her eyes, pointed at Kallen, and sat back down. Kallen… wasn't sure how to react to that. Apparently the girl—Nora! That was the name—was watching her. Probably because they'd challenged each other the other day?
Shaking her head, Kallen moved on towards the table where she normally sat—only to see that it was occupied. She was about to leave when her mind started to catch up to what exactly was going on at her table.
"Oww-that hurts! Please stop…" A rabbit faunus girl Kallen didn't recognize was saying, as someone Kallen did recognize was pulling on her ear. Wait, pulling on—that son of a bitch!
"Hey, asshole!" Kallen shouted, grabbing an unattended metal tray off of a nearby table. The asshole in question turned to stare at her, an arrogant smirk possibly even worse than that of The Prince's on his face.
"Oh, hey there, Candy." The garbage truck of a human being said, pulling a little harder on the rabbit faunus' ear. The poor girl let out a squeal of pain that was apparently hilarious to the trash heap's minions.
"Let. The girl. Go." Kallen said, emphasizing every word. The sack of feces laughed at that.
"What, sugarlips, are you gonna try and be a hero? That's cute." He said. Kallen could see the minions moving around behind her out of the corner of her eye.
"Let the girl go, and get the hell away from my table." Kallen replied, calmly.
"Make me." The refuse lump replied. She'd been hoping he would say that.
Before the three minions could grab her, she leapt forward and slammed the tray directly into the bully's face. It didn't break his aura, but it did send him flying—and he'd instinctually let the girl go to try and block her strike. Kallen turned to face the minions, who had formed a semicircle but were looking decidedly less sure of themselves than before.
"So, who's first?" She asked, picking up another tray. The three of them looked at each other, then ran nervously past her to go see to their team leader, who'd smashed into an unoccupied table and the dishes of food it had held, and was now thoroughly doused in salad.
"Thank you…" the rabbit girl said, sitting back down.
"It's no problem. I hate guys like that." Kallen replied. "I'm Kallen, by the way."
"Velvet—Velvet Scarletina." The girl replied with a smile. "You're new here, then?"
"Yeah, just got in this week. You?" Kallen asked.
"Oh, it's my second year." Velvet replied. Kallen wasn't sure she'd heard right.
"Wait—you're a second year?" Kallen asked, hand halfway towards a nearby baguette. Geeze, she was hungry.
"Yep—I'm on team CFVY." Velvet replied, picking at her salad.
"But, I mean, you…" Kallen glanced over at where the minions were picking up their leader, who shot her a hateful glare but seemed to have conceded the field for now. "You probably could've wiped the floor with those guys." She said.
"Yep, definitely." Velvet replied. "You're wondering why I didn't?"
"Yeah, I guess so." Kallen replied, surprised to see Velvet smile a sad smile.
"Well, I'm a pacifist." Velvet said. Kallen almost choked on her bread.
"But—you go to a school that trains warriors!" Kallen said, managing to get the bread down.
"I don't really see it that way." Velvet replied, looking thoughtful. "We're here to become protectors, not warriors." She looked back up at Kallen. "I mean, I'm not opposed to fighting the Grimm or anything, or even fighting for fun—tournaments and competitions and such. But I don't want to use violence against people if I don't have to. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Huh." Kallen said. That was an… odd… point of view, but it was a surprisingly kind one. "You're an interesting person, Velvet."
"Aw… I mean, we're all interesting people here." Velvet said, looking pleased.
They chatted about various things for the rest of lunch, and it was probably the best Kallen had felt since leaving Ashford. She got Velvet's scroll number, and they parted ways when the Cafeteria closed. Kallen had gained a friend. Maybe Suzaku was right…
Only one class left that day—the class whose name even Kallen, academically skilled as she was, could never fully remember.
"Welcome everyone to the last day of the overview portion of 'The History of Remnant: A Complete Overview and Deconstruction of the Major Events that Shaped and Continue to Shape Our World, Part 1'." Professor Oobleck announced, followed by an uncharacteristic sigh.
"Now… due to the persistent letter campaign and petition passed around by certain students, I have decided to relent just this once to your desire to learn some more recent history. For the next half hour—the next half hour, only, though I will of course be free to discuss anything any of you would like to discuss to a fuller extent during my office hours—I will give you an overview of the Sea War and answer whatever questions you may have." Immediately a hand shot up, and Oobleck visibly sighed. "Yes, Miss Schnee."
"In Atlas it was called the Sundering of Mistral or the Black Invasion." The girl said, matter-of-factly, and Kallen tensed up. Were… were they really going to talk about that, here? She pushed the memories and tumultuous emotions that even hearing the name stirred up inside her back down.
"I'm sure it was, Miss Schnee, but this is Vale, and Beacon. Here it is known as the Sea War. Now," he said, turning towards the white board. "No one is entirely certain when it all began, or what exactly it was that set this all off—what is certain, however, is where—the isle of Dawn." In an instant, he'd pulled down a map, grabbed a pointer stick and pointed at the narrow strip of land in the middle of the Abyssal Ocean that marked that isle—a spot Kallen knew well. All Mistralian schoolchildren did.
"A spot rich in resources, it was reached by Mistralian aero-explorer Zheng He, flying east from Anima," He tapped the continent on the map, and Kallen resisted the urge to roll her eyes—as if they didn't know where Mistral was! Hah—and watched as he pointed to the other side of the map, "and by Amelia Earhart, flying west from Albion, on exactly the same day; a truly remarkable coincidence if I say so myself. Now—" he turned to fully face the class, "initially, both Mistral and Britannia were willing to share this isle and its resources evenly, as they'd both found it at the same time. However, cultural clash, a number of diplomatic snafus and several resource distribution misunderstandings later, and the two nations were experiencing extreme friction. Now, it's easy to try and assign blame based on what followed, but it cannot be overemphasized that we do not know exactly what happened to spark off the initial conflict. All that we know for certain is that, a few days after the conflict began, the Britannian colonists had been pushed back into their fortress, and the Mistralians had laid claim to the entire island. Miss Schnee," He said, pausing, "I will answer questions after the overview."
The Heiress put her hand down, slowly.
"Now then. It only took a few more days for the Britannian counterattack to arrive, and when it did, the tide of the conflict turned completely. The Mistralian colonial guard were skilled enough, but a majority of their forces were untrained citizens unused to combat. Their opponents were an elite force of Britannian Knights that outnumbered them two to one. The fight was over swiftly; Britannia took all of the survivors as prisoners of war, and did not stop there." Oobleck paused, moving back towards the map.
"The Britannian Fleet met its Mistralian counterpart just over the horizon from Mistral's shoreline. Their battle would continue for the rest of the war, though the Britannians managed to land their vanguard by flying it through the cloud cover above using their air fleet. This corps was lead by Cornelia li Britannia, a Britannian princess." Oobleck said. Kallen's hands clenched on the edge of her table. Even just hearing that name… she shuddered.
"The vanguard advanced; with support from Cornelia's flagship and other elements of the air fleet, they broke through what defenses that the Mistralian Defense Force had prepared into southern Anima—the region then of Mistral that was called Nihon. From there on in, they made an unprecedentedly rapid advance up through southern Mistral, advancing up to and besieging the City of Mistral itself within a month." Oobleck followed the imaginary advance up the middle of Nihon—Kallen's home. The place she'd grown up in. How small that advance looked, just a little flick of a pointer stick across a map. How many lives did that chunk of land contain? How many had died there in those desperate weeks?
"It was at this point that Atlas answered the call of its old alliance and came to Mistral's aid, bringing its army, its battle fleets and its mecha to bear against the Britannian Expeditionary Force. With their help, the Britannians were pushed back to the chokepoint of the Kowareta Pass, though it was at great cost to both sides. There, after a month of negotiations, both sides signed a truce under the mediation of Vale, and the modern borders of Mistral and Britannia were established. Now, that concludes the direct events of the war. Are there any questions?" Oobleck said, turning back to the class. One boy near the front that Kallen didn't know raised his hand.
"Yes, Mr. Garno." Oobleck said.
"Ah, well, the Britannian knights—did they ride horses, like in fairy tales?" The boy asked, and Kallen had to laugh, earning a frown from Ooblek.
"Now now, Miss Stadfeldt, there is no such thing as a bad question. No, Garno, the Britannian knights had no horses—instead, they used their landspinners-devices much like motorized wheeled skis attached to the feet of their armored suits-which granted them unmatched speed on the battlefield. Next question?" Oobleck asked. A dog faunus girl raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Herra." Oobleck said.
"Ah… why didn't anybody else get involved? Why didn't Atlas get involved sooner?" She asked.
"That is quite the question! The answer I can give you now—the short answer, mind you—is that the other kingdoms viewed the war as one Mistral alone had provoked. Atlas ultimately stepped in when it realized that the Holy Britannian Empire was in a position to seize all of Anima for its own if Mistral fought against it alone. Now, next question." Oobleck said. The Schnee girl raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Schnee." Oobleck said, a note of resignation entering into his voice.
"Professor, what is your estimate of the civilian casualties of this war, and their cause?" Weiss asked, as if that was a normal question. Civilian casualties… Kallen shook her head to get the screams out of her ears.
"Both are difficult to say. For the first, estimates vary considerably. With Mistral and Britannia refusing to share their official documents, estimating the total casualties of the war is difficult. What is known is that the territory of Nihon was almost a quarter of Mistral's landmass and held about a sixth of its overall population. According to our best guesses… Nihon lost about a third of its people during the invasion." Oobleck said.
A gasp made its way around the room, an expression of unexpected horror that Kallen missed entirely. Her vision was back under a red sky, fire to her left and a dark abyss to her right, the screams of monsters out in the dark…
"And what was the cause of this massacre exactly, Professor?" The Schnee girl asked, a little too politely.
"This question is even harder than the last. Our view of this string of events has been so colored by the passing of time and the politics of the modern day, there's no real way of telling which version of the story is true." Oobleck must have noticed that the Schnee girl wasn't satisfied with that. "If you would like to propose your own theory, by all means, go ahead. You have two minutes before we return to the actual subject matter of today's lesson."
"Very well." The Schnee girl said, standing. "I was taught that the Britannians purposely rounded up swarms of Grimm and lured them into striking distance of Mistralian villages." She said, and a wave of whispers followed. Kallen felt the fear in her gut—a little sliver left over from years ago.
Had that been how it had happened? It made too much sense not to be. How else would their villages, their towns, have-
"That's incorrect." A voice said dispassionately, and the class fell silent as they looked towards its source—the Britannian prince.
"Oh really?" The Schnee girl said, scoffing, eyes full of disgust. "Do you expect us to believe that dozens of Mistralian settlements just vanished of their own accord?"
"I'm saying that you're wrong about how they did it," The Prince said.
"And perhaps the great Prince of Britannia would like to explain? Or should your royal knight do that for you?" The Schnee girl said, and Kallen realized with a lurch that that last dig had been directed at her.
"What—no, wait, I'm not—" Kallen said, fighting to keep her breath calm as the eyes of all of her classmates turned on her. They were eyes full of vague fear, anger, hatred, or even worse—complete disinterest. She had somehow become the symbol of Britannia for them, in that moment, all of its crimes laid on her shoulders. All because of her appearance and her Britannian father. How could she possibly pay all of those debts-how could she be made to justify the spilt lifeblood that Britannia had coated its hands with? She felt like she was beginning to be crushed by the air around her. Why was she the one being made the scapegoat here? It wasn't fair… it wasn't fair, it wasn't—!
"Kindly leave Kallen out of this." The Prince said, and at those words the weight was gone. Had it disappeared, or… had it just moved to someone else? All eyes were on the Prince, now. He stood.
"The tactic you suggest is completely unviable. The Britannian Expeditionary force was trying to outpace Mistralian mobilization and cut off the capital, so they had to move quickly. Gathering together a horde of Grimm takes time." The Prince said.
"Oh, and you would know?" The Schnee girl said, crowding her arms and glaring. "You think you know better than the best historians of Atlas?"
"Yes, I do." The Prince looked past the Schnee girl, towards Professor Oobleck. "Any Britannian history textbook would tell you that the Mistralian Villagers' own fear of Britannia's might brought the Grimm, and that is what destroyed them." There was a minor uproar, but The Prince held out a hand. "They are, of course, completely wrong. You don't look in history textbooks for the truth of how war is fought, not in Britannia." The Prince glanced around, seeing that he had everyone's attention. "There is a book published in a new edition every year called 'The Britannian Youth Guide to Battle", and its senior partner, "The Britannian Knight's Guide to Battle". Both books received a new chapter after the war about fighting in lands infested with Grimm. In that chapter, it is suggested that if one wishes to move through Grimm-infested territory quickly, it is best to create distractions."
"You… you mean…" The Schnee girl said. Kallen couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"They didn't destroy the villages because they were in their way. They simply destroyed their defenses as they passed because it meant they wouldn't have to deal with the Grimm themselves." The Prince said.
Kallen didn't remember much of the rest of the class, or the walk back. She barely even realized that she was putting on her pajamas and getting into bed until she was already there. Sleep came quickly…
RUN! RUUUUUUN!
Oh spirits, they're still coming…
No, please, please, pleeeeeeaase!
Help me! Somebody, anybody—HEEEEEELP!
I'm sorry…I'm so sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so…
The doors! They're not holding—
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—
"—AAAH!" Kallen cried, lurching up from her bed, covered in sweat. It didn't seem like she'd woken anyone else up, but she was breathing hard after that.
That damn girl just had to bring that up again… she'd been able to sleep soundly for years. The goddamned past didn't know how to keep itself to itself. But… what The Prince had said… it made it so much worse.
They hadn't been townsfolk defending their city from a Britannian invasion force. They hadn't been having some glorious last stand where their sacrifices had had meaning somewhere in the ultimate battle. Their heroism had meant nothing. They had only been bait for the Grimm.
Something began to burn, deep in her chest, a dark sort of fury that Kallen had only felt a few times before. It was the kind that would keep building and building and building until she could find a way to release it. It was still so dark outside, though. There was nothing she could do. This rage would be as helpless and as pointless as the death of those villagers and townspeople—of her countrymen. Her people.
Then, her eyes darted over to the bed where, for once, the Prince was actually sleeping, and she remembered something that she could do. Something she had vowed to do.
She drew the dagger slowly out of her pillowcase, drawing on all of her experience and training to make no noise. It was a particularly long one, and it had a serrated blade designed specifically for slashing arteries. She'd picked it up off of an old man in Shinjuku Ghetto—it would never be traced back to her, assuming she left no fingerprints. She'd told the others that she slept with gloves because her hands got cold, which had felt like a weak lie at the time but had paid off in the long run.
Kallen slipped silently off of her bed and crawled along, passing under the edges by Suzaku and C.C.'s beds before finally coming to The Prince's. It had surprised her that he hadn't demanded something larger than the standard bed, deigning to sleep like normal people instead, but it would only make her job easier. She crept over to the head of the bed and rose silently up until she was standing over the sleeping prince, dagger in hand.
The Prince was sleeping soundly, for once, and his face looked… young. Much younger than he did when he was awake. She watched him breath in, then out, in, then out. He looked peaceful, and that made Kallen even angrier. How did someone like him, someone who had reaped the benefits of everything the Empire had done, someone who could just calmly say that the deaths of her countrymen were merely for the sake of convenience without any sign of remorse get to sleep so fitfully? How!?
Kallen raised her dagger, taking aim at his neck. It would be so simple, a single strike and he would be dead. A tyrant destroyed. A boy murdered.
Murdered?
Something about the way that that sounded pushed back the anger, if just for a moment.
Was that what she was doing? She was killing a monster for the greater good, wasn't she? That wasn't murder.
"No… please…" The Prince muttered in his sleep, face contorting with sudden fear. Kallen froze—had he woken up? But, no, those purple eyes didn't open.
"Please… it's not fair… it's my fault… please don't…" The Prince muttered, curling up underneath his blanket. Kallen just stared, knife still raised. When he was asleep, when those eyes were closed… he really was just a kid her age.
But… there had been so many kids her age. So many who were now dead, slaughtered by the hands of the Empire he represented. Maybe this was justice. It still felt wrong… horribly, horribly wrong. Kallen had a feeling that this particular act would haunt her for the rest of her days. Nonetheless, this wasn't about The Prince, and this wasn't about Kallen. This was about Britannia and Nihon. Her country. Her people. The vengeance that they deserved.
Wrath freshly rekindled, fate decided, racing to move faster than the guilt and shame that were rising in her chest, pushing through the rage-Kallen thrust swiftly down at The Princes' throat.
She closed her eyes as she felt her blade's descent stop, even then not fully ready to see what she had done. She opened them again, however, when she realized why her dagger had stopped.
A hand gripped her wrist like an iron manacle, locking her blade just inches above the sleeping Prince. Kallen had barely an instant to stare at it in shock before something slammed into her knee and she was suddenly tumbling through the air, crashing into a wall. Before she could even begin to recover, a hand just as firm wrapped around her throat, pressed into her windpipe and lifted her off of the ground, pushing her back into the wall. Kallen gasped and wheezed, tearing desperately at the hand that held her, to no effect.
"Well, well, well… it looks like I was right, eh Lelouch?" C.C. said, smiling up at Kallen as if she wasn't currently choking the life out of her.