Chapter 16: Ghost of

Alternate Chapter Title: The Not Christmas Themed Chapter For Christmas

February 2, 1993

The E.U. and China are starting military actions in Area 6, South America. As a result, Emperor Brandon and father negotiated a ceasefire while they focus on expelling the foreign invaders. There are also rumors of the French sponsoring terrorism in Area 2. It's a contentious situation. The Emperor doesn't want father to gain too much fame in repelling the invasion in Area 6. Father gets to be home more often at least. He's spending a lot of time with Gabrielle, according to the servants. Apparently, she needs to have a child for the agreement with her family to work. People talk about them in hushed voices, but never tell me anything. I still listen. I don't care if it is "adult stuff."

With this tentative peace, I hope I'll be able to see my siblings again. It's rather boring constantly traveling with Father. So far, there have been no assassination attempts, for which I am grateful. I do get to meet many other noble children as father tries to gather support. The girls constantly giggle. I admit that I am afraid to be seen with them. Arranged marriages are all to real. Although there are whispers that Cornelia should be married to Emperor Brandon's son. I've never met him, yet I doubt he would be good enough for Cornelia. I have a feeling, she won't be a very girly girl.

—Excerpts from Odysseus's Journal

Maineige Delac, Montreal, Area 2

Rubble crunched beneath Arthur Greenford's feet as he surveyed the damage. To think such damage was possible in a time of peace. He bit his lips angrily and watched as a clean up crew shoveled through the debris, looking for bodies. On the far right, a relief tent had been set up as the medics tended to those injured by the concussive blast. So far, they had found no survivors from within the manor. The fire must have consumed them.

The numbers were responsible. No one else was capable of such savagery. Arthur turned on his heels and marched to the tent. Margrave Gottwald had been at the manor for business... and with no sign of him, Arthur had to accept the worst. Margrave Gottwald was dead: consumed in a fiery inferno. His death robbed the Purist Party of a great leader.

His eyes spotted a young noble with familiar teal hair, carrying a shovel as he ambled through the debris. Jeremiah. The explosion had also robbed him of a father. Arthur frowned and wondered if he should aid the boy and console him. Jeremiah might have sworn loyalty to the commoner Empress, but he was still a pure noble and the young boy that Arthur used to play chess with.

Jeremiah crumbled to the ground. Arthur tore his eyes away. He wouldn't help. Not yet. He would allow the boy a moment to grieve, to process the untimely death of his father before Arthur offered his own comfort. It wouldn't be well received at the moment.

Within the tent, he saw the medics darting between various patients lying on the cots. Servants mostly, lucky enough to be outside of the manor. A guard stood rigid by the entrance, his hand resting on his machine gun, and his eyes watching carefully.

"ID, my lord," the guard ordered.

Pushing down the humiliation, Arthur withdrew his badge and passed it over. Proper decorum could be set aside in the wake of such a devastating attack. Just this one he would let the slight slide. "Any witnesses?"

The guard pointed to a red haired woman with tear tracks glistening on her face and nursing a tea. "Brigit Buteau. Earl Armfort's boon grants her the title of Viscount of the Iceplains."

Arthur scowled. There wasn't a hint of noble blood in her features: a commoner. Still, there was something familiar about her name. Something that he couldn't place at the moment. He strode forward and observed her. Her posture was perfect, yet she clutched the tea like an old hag.

Her hazel eyes met his coolly. "My lord?"

"Margrave Greenford. How did you attain the Viscountcy? I find it a bit convenient."

Her eyes widened and he could see tears forming in her eyes. "They're all dead, aren't they? I can't believe... I never wanted this."

The tears began to flow and Arthur felt his chest tighten at the awkward display. "Yet, for all your tears, you're a noble for now. No matter how much someone of your... worth does not deserve it. I wonder if your claim will hold up before the courts."

She hiccuped and wiped her tears with her long sleeve. "Lady Melbourne was conspiring against Lord Armfort. I informed him and he made me his champion..." she trailed off and suddenly started sobbing again. "I can't believe he's dead. Not after everything he did for me."

Swallowing, Arthur pushed through the vague sense of guilt at causing her to cry. "You fought in a Duel of Honor?"

She nodded. "With knightmares. I'm a decent pilot... and he trusted me." Looking up again, her teary eyes stared at him. "You'll find those who were responsible, right?"

"That isn't my responsibility... but yes."

"Thank you." She smiled and stared at him with wide hopeful eyes. She looked absolutely dreadful.

Arthur sneered. He was wasting his time. It was doubtful she knew anything and only luck had led to her survival, but still, he had a duty to his friend. Lord Gottwald would not go unavenged. "What were you doing before the blast?"

"I was leaving... to see my younger brother and celebrate with him." Buteau suddenly brought up her hand and stared at the cracked watch. "Do you know the time Lord Greenford? My brother... he must be so worried about me. I have to let him know I'm okay."

Ignoring her foolish request, "Anything suspicious before that?"

The commoner upstart had the audacity to look betrayed. "No. Lady Melbourne and Lord Gottwald were talking when I left. I think Lord Armfort wanted to, well, gloat. One of the serving boys followed me. I think he wanted my autograph."

Arthur stared at her as the nagging feeling of familiarity grew stronger. He knew of her somehow. But as he suspected, she was proving to be an absolutely useless witness. "May I see the contract?"

From beneath her coat, she retrieved a slightly singed roll of paper. He unfurled it and stared at the signed names at the bottom. Oberstein and the Viceroy had both signed off. There would be little that the courts could do to stop her claim. And suddenly he knew who she was. "I wouldn't expect a talented violinist as yourself to pilot knightmares. Although your stage name is Brigit Aubert, isn't it?"

"It was just fortune that led to me to knightmares. And you are correct Lord Greenford, but I wouldn't think I am talented enough to catch your discretionary eye."

Despite himself, Arthur snorted. She played in the Britannian Symphony as the fifth chair five years ago before she recused herself for unknown reason. Had she continued, she would surely have made second chair, or even first, by now. "I wouldn't undersell yourself. And while I may not find much worth in the symphony, the company I keep does. Why did you quit?"

Her face, formerly expressive, became blank. "My parents passed away and I did not have the time to attend rehearsals as well as take care of my brother. Is that all? Or do you wish to continue this interrogation? I really should be heading home. My brother worries so."

Not bothering to reply, Arthur walked out of the tent. Oberstein certainly knew more about the new enigmatic viscount. He would have never signed the contract otherwise although what potential he saw in supporting her, was beyond him. As always, Oberstein's motives were impossible to discern. Perhaps he wanted to give her enough rope to hang herself and hold her as a shining example of the inherent weakness of commoners. Perhaps he had just intended to eliminate Lady Melbourne and deliver the greatest insult possible. Or perhaps there was another reason.

Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania

Lelouch stood at perfect attention as the Drill Sergeant entered the room, followed by an elderly man dressed in a neat military uniform: an officer. A noble. The Drill Sergeant stepped backward and the officer strode between the neat columns of the assembled platoon with measured steps. His discerning eyes swept over them until he stopped before Edgar.

"Straighten your uniform Private. Show respect to your glorious nation of Britannia."

"Yes sir," Edgar shouted back.

The noble leaned forward and growled. "If you do not know an officer's rank, you'll address them as my lord. Although perhaps the problem is that you're blind, given my rank is on my collar." He tugged on his collar and Lelouch could make out a small crown, then turned and glowered at the Drill Sergeant. "It seems you have been slacking in teaching these boys their manners. I will be taking them for the rest of the day."

"Yes Major Maxwell." The Drill Sergeant saluted and left the room without a second glance.

Lelouch resisted the urge to fidget. The Drill Sergeant, while never nice, was familiar. Lelouch might not understand the man, but he apparently did care for their lives and he was a known quantity. Now, he was left with a strange lord and Lelouch felt oddly exposed. He shivered as Major Maxwell's eyes passed over him.

"Until now, your instructor has focused on making you physically capable of fulfilling duties... although it seems to have been wasted on some of you."

Next to Lelouch, Alex failed to hide his bristle. Unfortunately, it was true. Neither he nor Lelouch had gained significant muscle mass although Lelouch suspected that their true age might be the cause. They certainly worked hard enough.

"Now, you will learn how to take orders, who to take them from, and the basic responsibilities of a knight in case any noble is ever asinine to take one of you sorry lots as their Knight of Honor or by some miracle, one of you is actually accepted into the Knightmare Corps. Moving on, I'm Major Maxwell. My father is Earl of New Cambridge. What would my noble title be?"

Down the row, Roy raised his hand confidently and Major Maxwell called upon him. "You would be a Viscount."

"Wrong. Anyone else?"

Lelouch cringed. Roy had been almost entirely correct, but Major Maxwell had given no hint how close Roy had been.

Major Maxwell shook his head. "I see that I truly have my work cut out for me. Ignorance is not an excuse. Everyone. Drop down and give me twenty push-ups."

The ground struck his palms as Lelouch complied. His arms bent readily, and unlike the first night, he actually managed the pushups without turning into a seal that slowly peeled its torso off the ground. Barely, but it was an improvement. The platoon clambered to attention and snapped to attention in sync. The room fell oddly silent after the cacophony of noise.

"What is my noble title?"

Zit raised his hand cockily and everyone stared at him in exasperation. "Lord Pain-in-the-arse."

The idiotic teen never learned. "Twenty more pushups."

This time, Lelouch resembled a seal by the end. Despite his jelly arms, he raised his hand and waited for the noble to call upon him. It would once again call attention to him, but Lelouch didn't need to do a couple hundred pushups as everyone cycled through every possible title. Major Maxwell called on him and Lelouch replied confidently, "None my lord. You are the heir and until you either inherit your father's title or are bequeathed one, you don't have one. Viscount Maxwell or Viscount of one of your father's subsidiary holdings would be a courtesy title."

Major Maxwell did not smile and his face betrayed no emotion. "Correct. Private?"

Someday, Lelouch would learn to keep his mouth shut. Who was he kidding? He was allergic to standing by. "Lamperouge."

"My lord."

"Lamperouge, my lord."

The major looked at him in the eyes. "You thought it would be funny to keep that knowledge to yourself?"

"No, my lord."

Then the smile formed. It was too wide and shallow, but a smile like those Lelouch had seen on the knightmare pilots. A smile of sadistic glee. He missed the Drill Sergeant already. "Well, if Private Lamperouge knows everything, then why don't the rest of you. Drop down and give me twenty and you Private Lamperouge, let's see how much further your knowledge goes. How do you address a Duke?"

"Your grace, my lord." The rest of the platoon groaned loudly and Lelouch had a feeling that his bunk bed would not be safe that night.

Major Maxwell narrowed his eyes. "Royalty?"

The man loved his trick questions and Lelouch knew he should probably get it wrong and accept whatever punishment the lord wished to bestow, but he couldn't. Lelouch did not bow his head except on his own terms and never would he bow to someone, so petty. "Your majesty for the Emperor. Your highness for the prince and princesses... my lord."

The platoon slowly straightened and Major Maxwell was unable to hide the quiet fury within his eyes as he glared at Lelouch. "How many wives does the Emperor have?"

Seriously? Lelouch doubted anyone knew except those who wrote articles for gossip rags and even then, there was no certainty that they knew the truth. Did the major even know? Lelouch certainly did not keep track of how many women his father married every year. He had no interest in knowing such facts about his father. Settling for a guess, Lelouch tried, "Ninety-three?"

Lelouch dropped to the ground to do twenty push-ups as Major Maxwell called on the next person to answer the question. Somehow Alex answered correctly and later that night, when Lelouch asked him how. He had simply replied, "Ya told me I need to practice ma reading. And magazines are cheap."

Foiled by gossip rags. How unbelievable. Before sleep claimed him that night, Lelouch considered the terrifying possibility that Major Maxwell might actually read said gossip rags. His only solace was that Nunnally would find the entire incident absolutely hilarious.

Maineige Delac, Montreal, Area 2

Arthur caught sight of Jeremiah sitting at the edge of the table with a bottle of beer in his hand. Grabbing his mug, he walked over and sat down beside him. "We'll catch them Jeremiah."

Jeremiah finished the last of his beer and raised the bottle to ask for a refill. One of the servants rushed forward to replace it, caught sight of Arthur shaking his head, and returned. Jeremiah slurred, "What d'ya do that for?"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur gently tugged the bottle away. "You're drunk. Why don't you eat some real food and then get some sleep?"

"Don't wanna."

Twenty-two was too young to lose one's father, but it happened. Death came to all, regardless of age, when it was time. "Jeremiah. You can't help your father like this."

He hiccuped and tried to snatch the empty bottle back, but missed. "Nobody can help him. Only ash there." He paused and started to giggle. "Ya know what's funny? We burned the Elevens. And floaty floaty to the sky, they went. Bu'now, they burned us. And now we're ash. All spread out around us. Nobody can pick that up and put'em back together."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur pushed the bottle further away and waved the server over to order some bread. Turning back to Jeremiah, he warded off the clumsy attempt to regain the bottle. With a quick lunge, Jeremiah tried again, but his fingers pushed it to the side and it shattered on the ground. Jeremiah looked at him sadly. "It was empty? Why did ya do that for?"

"You're drunk Jeremiah. Now," he pushed the newly arrived bread basket over to him, "have some bread before you embarrass your father's memory. He didn't raise a drunkard as a son."

Jeremiah snorted. "Can't stop me now. Can't yell at me either for being a guard for Lady Marianne. She's so pretty, but then, I failed. I always fail."

And he was crying. Arthur gingerly patted the youth on his back. Everyone was crying around him today, which made sense considering the circumstances, but wasn't any less awkward. "You didn't fail Jeremiah. You're young and you helped finish of the Elevens. Piloted gloriously from what I've heard. You're one of the best knightmare pilots we have. You made your father proud."

"I didn't protect Lady Marianne. And now... she can't move her legs. And Nunnally saw her and now she can't see. It's all my fault. I should have been better." Jeremiah grabbed a bread roll and stuffed it into his mouth. Arthur frowned. He hadn't heard of the young princess being blind. "And Dad would've been home if I had been a better son. We were shouting. And it's all my fault."

Jeremiah had a guilt complex. That made things more difficult, but Jeremiah would be easier to manipulate and protect from unsavory elements as a result. The Purist Party did not have to end here. And Arthur would take care of his friend's son and show them the way and allow them to escape their foolish crush that shackled him to the commoner Empress. Arthur gently rubbed Jeremiah's back. "Your father doesn't blame you. He was proud of you. And you can continue to make him proud."

Unfocused eyes looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes really. The numbers did this, didn't they?"

Jeremiah nodded. "I'll kill them. Find them and bring glory to my family name. And then I'll join in Princess Cornelia and we'll conquer the Philippines with Lady Marianne's help. And the rest of the world... and there'll be no more killings."

Even drunk, all the boy thought about was how to serve that witch. Arthur sighed. "You can't do that Jeremiah. You have to protect your sister."

Jeremiah blinked. "How am I supposed to tell her? She's sixteen. Dad was looking at betrothal contracts for her. Everything was supposed to be perfect, but it isn't. Because he's dead."

"You're going to be Margrave Gottwald now Jeremiah. You have a duty. You can't do that if you're galvanizing off in foreign lands."

"What would Dad wanna me do? I can't leave Princess Cornelia. She has what's left of my honor." Jeremiah spread his arms dramatically and then slumped, his head hitting the table with a resounding thud. Grumbling, he muttered, "Am a coward. Cowardly… and weak… Can't save anyone… even the princess. Guilford did that."

Arthur forced a smile and resisted the urge to think ill of the dead. It was unfathomable that Gottwald would leave his son in the company of such ill advised figures, but Arthur couldn't change the past. Only the future. "The Viceroy will find the ones responsible soon enough Jeremiah. But you, you need to go home. Be with your sister. Prepare the funeral. And then stay safe. Out of the battlefield."

Jeremiah's glassy eyes focused on something only he could see. Slowly, he mused, "Safe? But am a soldier... What honor is there if I'm not risking m'life for my liege?"

"Your family has plenty of honor Jeremiah. Now that you're the margrave, all your dishonor is gone. No one will hold the actions of youth against you, but you have to stay alive to protect your sister. If you die, she becomes the margrave... and I know you don't think you're ready, but how do you think she will feel?"

Nodding, Jeremiah and sat upright to gaze into Arthur's eyes. "Thank you... Arthur. You always looked out for me. But... what am I supposed to do? I was going to fight, grow old, and then, when my hair turned white, take up my noble title."

That was the dream and Arthur laughed. It was a dream that few realized, but it was better than the reality that confronted Jeremiah now where death arrived with no warning. Jeremiah would have many enemies and Arthur would make sure that the boy survived those early formative years. Jeremiah didn't have the temperament yet to avoid making costly mistakes. He needed a safe environment to grow. One where nobles were beholden to Arthur and potential enemies lacked fangs. "Go to Area Eleven."

Jeremiah blinked and started to stand up. "Eleven? But that's far, far away. Cross the ocean. It'll take forever to get there… Why?"

Arthur nodded. "Not this moment. After everything else is taken care of. There was an assassination attempt in Area Eleven, remember? You can hunt down those Numbers, stay in the military, and maintain order. The Purist Party needs you there. Your father would have wanted this."

"The Purist were very, very important to Dad. I didn't like them, because you're mean to Lady Marianne. She's amazing... But I can protect her... from enemies. And then, she'll know." Jeremiah stopped his slurred speech and looked down. "Arthur, I don't feel so good."

"Let's get you to bed Jeremiah. Sleep off the alcohol."

Bleary eyes blinked and Jeremiah stood up and swayed. Leaning on Arthur, Jeremiah whispered loudly, "You're a good friend... like an uncle. Or something. Dad's best friend."

Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania

Lelouch glared at the author of his history textbook, Lance Gale, with hatred. History should have been a breeze, but instead, it was Lelouch's worst subject. If Lelouch had known nothing about history, it would have been easy. Instead, he was confronted by a textbook that was subtly wrong in how it described events. Lelouch remembered the lessons of his own tutors, distant as they may be, and the book was definitely wrong.

Roy set down his own bag besides Lelouch. "It's not the book's fault that you're bad at history."

Lelouch glared at him and slipped it within his own bag. Knight lessons would be starting soon and Lelouch had no desire to give Major Maxwell another reason to target him. "It most definitely is."

Looking up at the ceiling, Roy pressed his hands together in a mock prayer. "Please, please, let it be something besides posture."

"Don't fancy walking around with a book on your head again?" Lelouch asked as he grabbed his math book and set it on his own head.

Roy glared at him. "You're a freak of nature. It's like your head is secretly flat or something." He turned and grabbed Alex, trying to sneak around their argument. "Don't you agree?"

Alex glanced at both of them. A small mischievous smile formed and he grabbed the history book from his own bag and set it on his head. "Easy."

"Traitor," Roy muttered. "How do you two make it look so easy? Is it because you're short and skinny? It definitely is."

Alex shrugged and caught the book as it slid off his head. "Pickpocketing is much harder. We should learn that. More useful than balancing a book on one's head anyway."

Lelouch didn't respond to the raised eyebrow from Roy and slipped his book back into the bag. There was no way to explain that he and Nunnally had to do the same exercise under the strict eye of their tutor. Good posture was very important and even his mother had mastered the exercise. She, of course, had learned to do it while practicing her forms. Suzaku, probably, had done a similar exercise. His friend was a fitness freak.

The door slammed shut behind Major Maxwell and his knight, ending all conversation. The cart, that the knight had been pulling, rolled to a stop and allowed the assembled privates to catch a glimpse of its content: swords. Lelouch swallowed, his chest suddenly feeling tighter. He knew the basics, even if he hadn't touched a sword in years. Why was he nervous?

"Everyone grab a sword and pair off," ordered Major Maxwell.

Lelouch walked behind Roy and let his fingers curl around the hilt of the blade. It was cold. Wrapped in leather. He felt like there should be a tassel, but there was none. Alex's hand settled on his shoulder, pulling Lelouch back to reality.

"You okay?" Alex asked. "You were trembling there for a minute."

Lelouch nodded and pulled the sword free and walked to the wall to face off against Alex. The sword was heavy in his hands and as the instructor ordered them to stand en garde, Lelouch felt his heart hammering in his chest. Two swords clanged as Major Maxwell and his knight demonstrated in front of the class.

Everything smelled like sulfur and plaster.

Lelouch raised the blade, a phantom tassel pressed against his wrist.

Distantly, Alex called, "Lelouch? Are you alright?"

Glass crunched on the floor and Lelouch could feel his own heart beating faster. He was supposed to relax. He couldn't. Blood was pooling on his hand and he could hear something, no someone, gurgling. The sword fell out of his grasp as blood pooled on his arm.

It clanged on the ground. Alex stood before him. His mouth moving, but no sound reaching him. Lelouch fell to his knees, vomiting. He... he had... killed someone that night. That night when an assassin had stalked him and Nunnally. The white tassel had been stained red in blood. His stomach heaved again. There was no escape. Not from this... he had killed someone.

"Private Lamperouge!"

Lelouch couldn't move. He was trapped beneath the cabinet. Nunnally besides him.

"Private Lamperouge!"

Glassy eyes with something red stared at him. The eyes... why weren't they normal?

"Private Lamperouge!"

He was asking something... and he was so young. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. He had killed a child. Who sent a child to assassinate someone?

Something struck him across the cheek and Lelouch opened his eyes, which he hadn't even realized were closed, to stare at Roy. "Lelouch. It's alright. Breathe."

He opened his mouth and sweet oxygen filled him, battling within his lungs, for space. Roy was whispering and even Major Maxwell was looking at him in concern. They shouldn't worry. Lelouch didn't need help. He had killed someone already. Two people. There had been that scavenger in Area Eleven. That was another life on his conscience.

Roy was helping him forward, dragging him to sick call. Then the Drill Sergeant was beside him with startling clear blue eyes, so unlike that assassin. Vaguely, Lelouch could hear someone talking of a panic attack. But that was foolish. Why would he be panicking? He was fine. Perfectly fine. He had killed someone with his soft hands. Held a sword. Pointed a gun. Wielded them both with no mercy.

But he had done it for Nunally… For Suzaku… To save their lives. If he hadn't… They would have died… yet, he had still taken another's life… And he would do it again. A murderer. That was what he was. A monster.

Monsters didn't deserve help. He was fine. Afterall, why would he be panicking? The deed was already done. He was fine.

The others weren't though. They didn't know the monster that lurked within him. Lelouch had to warn them. Tell them to leave before he became like the soldiers in Area Eleven. Monsters he had called them… But they weren't so different in the end.

Ashford Academy, Area 11

"Hello I'm Rivalz Cardemonde. Is this the student council?"

Nunnally raised her head and pushed her homework to the side. He would be the new student that Milly had wanted to poach as their secretary. She held out her hand. "Yes. Milly mentioned something. I'm Nunnally, nice to meet you."

There was a brief moment of hesitation before his cold and clammy hands shook hers. "Nice to meet you. Lady Ashord said something about a supply list?"

"Yes. Milly was working on it. It should be on her desk." Nunnally pointed her finger at the corner of the room. It would have been helpful if Allie was there, but she had left to run her own errand.

He slowly walked to the corner and she heard him carefully nudge a few papers to the side. "Are you sure she'll be alright with me going through her things? Maybe it would be best if you found the paper?"

"I'm blind."

"Oh..." He paused. "Um, I'm so sorry. Was I being rude? I didn't mean to be rude."

Nunnally smiled slightly. His response had been far better than those of her many classmates. "Don't worry about it. Milly won't mind if you look through her papers."

The papers rustled as Rivalz returned to his search. "What do you think of Lady Ashford? She's rather... excitable. Wasn't expecting that. Figured someone of her station would be more concerned with propriety."

"Milly isn't like that," Nunnally said, although it was more of an assurance to herself. Recently, Milly had started sending less time with her and Allie. It was probably because she was busy planning for the party, but Nunnally couldn't help the small sliver of worry whenever she heard her laughing with older kids, including Sally. Perhaps Milly didn't need Nunnally anymore. Perhaps Milly wanted to spend time with kids her age. Perhaps Milly found Nunnally to be a burden. Useless. "Milly is very nice."

"Ah found it!" He fell silent and then let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of stuff. Can we even afford it?"

Nunnally pulled herself away from the worrying thoughts. "Lord Ashford gave us a generous budget, but I calculated everything through and set aside a little for emergencies."

"That's amazing Nunnally. I'm not bad at math, but that's a lot of work. Do you do it all in your head?" He briefly paused, "I'm being rude. That's a rude thing to ask, isn't it."

Laughing, Nunnally gestured to her homework. "I do quite a bit of it in my head, but I can use Nemeth braille to keep track of everything. It took a bit of time getting used to it. And you can relax. I'm blind, not a fragile little flower."

He chuckled nervously. "I guess I should get to this stuff. Don't know why I agreed to all of this. So much work... but it's better than the alternative I guess."

"What's worse?"

"Thinking. Stuff is kinda tense between my parents right now. My mother argued I should attend here, I'm glad. Gives me an excuse to be out of the house," said Rivalz and Nunnally could hear the sadness in his voice, before he abruptly became cheerful again. "And this is so much fun. Always been home schooled before. Think we can be friends?"

"Of course Rivalz. And I'm sorry about your parents... sometimes it's nice being away."

"Things not so easy with yours?"

Nunnally shook her head. "It's complicated. They're rather busy so my brother always watched over me. He's the best."

"I always wanted a sibling. We would have had so much fun together, but that never happened. So what does your brother do?"

"He enlisted, but he sends me a lot of letters." She pulled out his most recent letter and the small photo that he included and Allie had described to her in detail. "Here. There's a photo there too with his squadron. Lelouch is the second shortest."

The door slammed open and Milly flounced to Nunnally and ran her hands along Nunnally's side. "Hold still. The measurements aren't going to be accurate otherwise."

"Measurements?" Nunnally squeaked as the cold measuring tape wrapped around her legs. "Milly!"

Milly pulled back and a pencil scratched against paper. "Ooh secretary, you're finally here. No time to waste. The party is the day after tomorrow. Everything better be perfect by then. Come on. What are you waiting for! And Nunnally, if Sally comes by, please inform her that I'm so excited for what she's planning to wear."

The door slammed against the wall again and then creaked closed; Milly was gone like the maelstrom she was and she had swept Rivalz up with her. The door clicked open and lighter footsteps softly entered; the owner out of breath.

"I've been avoiding Milly for ages Nunnally! She's insane!" Allie wheezed between her breathes. "Sorry for taking so long, but had to make sure Milly wouldn't know about the black paint. Everything is ready for tomorrow."

It didn't matter that Milly was acting confusing or that their private sanctum had been invaded by a newcomer. Allie was there and Nunnally could always count on her best friend. Trying to express the depth of gratitude she felt with just her tone, Nunnally said, "Thank you Allie."

Scattering pages on the desk, Allie continued chuckled. "No problem Nunnally. Sally deserves it for stealing your homework. I'm so excited. Are you excited?"

"Of course Allie. It will be our first mission together... although it feels weird doing it without Lelouch. He was always the brains."

Pages continued to rustle and Allie's feet danced across the room as she opened various drawers. "Right. Still pulling my leg. Lelouch would never do something like that. He would be way too scared to. He's scared of my sister you know. Gwen isn't scary at all."

Nunnally rolled her eyes. Someday someone would believe her regarding Lelouch. It was just a matter of time. "Your sister scares me sometimes. She's always so direct."

"Hey I'm direct." Allie continued, quieter, "I'm not scary am I?"

"Not to me. But in a couple years, you'll be absolutely terrifying and people will hear you shout, and cower, before your mighty roar."

"Nunnally! Stop teasing me. And what's up with Milly anyway? She's been running around all week, barely taking any breaks. And she's being nice to Sally." So Nunnally hadn't been imagining it. Her heart sank as Allie continued, "I know she wants to have a super special end of the year celebration, but it's all a bit too much. She's ordering over a thousand balloons for some reason, has a cake that isn't even in the budget, so that's supposed to be an extra surprise, and keeps bothering me on what I think about so called different colors. They're the same color!"

Maybe if she put on a brave face, Milly wouldn't abandon them. If she was keeping secrets, it must be because she thought Nunnally couldn't handle them. She wasn't fragile. No matter what other people seemed to think. "Allie?"

"Yeah?"

Smoothing her face, Nunnally hid her worries. "It's nice outside. Let's play a game."

"Alright. All the paperwork is killing me anyway. Stupid nobles. Drowning everyone in paperwork," Allie grumbled and grabbed Nunnally's hand. "We can play out on the meadow. I've got the ball in the bag."

The sun was gentle on her skin and Nunnally twirled as the ocean breeze swooped in and playfully tugged on her skirt. It had to be beautiful outside like those wonderful summers in the Aries Villa that she could barely remember. They had been colorful and Lelouch would laugh excitedly. Sister Nelly would be there too with Euphie and sometimes sneak them small little treats. It would be nice to hear them again, but they were too busy.

Allie shouted and the ball sang as it flew through the air and Nunnally tilted her head to locate it. Stepping to the side, she heard it come closer. Approaching. Her hands moved upwards. And her fingers curled into the soft material. This was nice as well. Relaxing. Away from all troubles. If only Lelouch could be there with her. She missed him.

Nunnally heard Allie shout again and threw the ball towards her. Lelouch would have failed at this game. But he was getting stronger. So maybe the next time she saw him, they could play the game properly. He had promised to be there on her birthday. It was an impossible period of time. She couldn't wait. It was too long. But she would. Maybe...

The ball whistled through the air and Nunnally heard it further to her left, driven off course by the wind. Running over the soft grass, she tracked it and jumped. Her fingers skimmed past the ball and a soft thump landed on the ground behind her. She had missed. Searching the ground, Nunnally found it again and threw it to Allie.

Maybe she could ask her mother. Her mother's carvings had been beautiful, but birthdays were special. Lelouch would be upset... but if she asked to see her brother... If she asked for one favor, surely, her mother would accommodate her. She was an empress, and Nunnally might have been oblivious to what the meant, she knew now that her mother could get away with everything short of murdering family. And even then... she had her father's favor. Everyone knew that. The letter... had been proof. Surely, her parents wouldn't deny this wish of hers.

Nunnally's head jerked to the side as she heard the ball approach, too close, and right into the ball's trajectory. It bounced off of her head.

"Really," scoffed Sally, "I didn't think you could get any more pathetic blind girl. Maybe it'll be something heavier next time and then Milly won't have to waste time on you anymore."

Nunnally frowned. She had been too deep in her thoughts if Sally had managed to sneak up on her. Milly didn't waste her time on her, did she? Forcing a smile, she turned to the girl, "I think you should leave."

"Stop looking at me freak!"

Allie, ran over. "Don't talk to Nunnally like that!"

Sniffing, Sally said, "I'll talk however I please. Especially to filth like you. But not to worry. Milly has a surprise for the party. A big announcement." She laughed cruelly. "I bet she finally tired of the novelty of having a cripple and a little filthy peasant girl on the student council."

Tears formed in her eyes and Nunnally turned around, walking to Allie. Over her shoulder, she called out with a heavy heart, "Milly said she is excited to see what you'll be wearing."

Allie grabbed her arm. "I told you nobles are up to no good. We'll prank her next?"

No. Allie had to be wrong. Milly wouldn't do that. They had played together, made sculptures together, planned together. This was all a big misunderstanding. A lie that Sally was spreading to hurt them. Milly was just busy. After the party everything would go back to normal. Milly wouldn't betray Nunnally. Not for someone who was mean, annoying, socially acceptable, and... able to see. Would she?

"No," Nunnally whispered despondently. If Milly didn't want a little blind girl following her around anymore, it was her decision. Nunnally would just accept her fate.

Worldbuilding Thoughts:

- In episode 2, Lelouch calls himself Allen Spacer, the son of a Duke. Dukedoms are generally reserved for the royal family, so Lelouch basically claimed to be someone he is related to. The father would also be in line for succession potentially...

- The anime doesn't have rank insignias on the uniforms (or much of a uniform for high ranking characters), so I decided to put it on the collar where it might be overlooked.

Author's Note:

Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)

Hope everyone had a great Christmas and Happy Holidays to those who don't celebrate.